"Well I didn't see this coming." John announced as both he and Sherlock stared at the her. She stared back at them, wide blue eyes framed with long dark eyelashes and filled with confusion. They had found her on the door steps moments ago with a letter saying her name who she was. She also had a small pink backpack that was clutched to her chest. "I didn't know you had..." John trailed off, looking over at Sherlock who didn't look away from the girl.

"How old are you?" He asked roughly. He clearly wasn't one of those people who puts on a soft, kind voice for children. The little girl in front of them frowned and looked down at her hands. She dropped her pink back-pack on the floor and frowned as she counted on her fingers. Eventually she held up both of her hands with a total of eight fingers sticking up.

"Six." She said with a smug nod. John frowned to himself. She didn't look six. She looked about four. Maybe it was just her face or her height or the dirt that covered her skin.

"That's eight." Sherlock shot back quickly.

"Sherlock." John warned. The little girl glared up and Sherlock and shook her head. Her hair tickled her cheeks, dark and matted around her small face. A poster girl for child neglect.

"It's six." She snapped. "I know. I can count." Sherlock scoffed and took a deep breath, ready to launch into some lecture to the small child before John cut in. He crouched down to the little girls level and smiled. She leant back in her seat nervous and stared at him. Her small fingers with the chewed down nails began to fidget on her lap.

"Where's your mum, Sophia?" He asked.

"Spain." She said with a firm nod. "She said she couldn't deal with anymore. She said I had to live with my dickhead of a dad while she went to live with her boyfriend." John was taken back by the language but decided not to point it out. The girl let her eyes wander around the room. "He was nasty, anyway. I didn't like him. He told me to call him daddy but I didn't. I don't want a daddy." With that she looked over at Sherlock, her blue eyes burning into him. He just shrugged and fell back into his seat.

"I don't want a daughter." He replied. John stood up, turning to him angrily. Sherlock just shrugged and sank back in his seat, eye closed and fingers to his lips.

"My mummy hates you." Sophia snapped. "She said you ran away."

"I didn't run away. I told her I was leaving and I told her where to find me if she had any enquiries." Sherlock said calmly.

"You never paid for me." The young girl shot back. All this, John figured, was clearly regurgitated words from her mother.

"Your mother never made me aware of her pregnancy." Sherlock sighed, annoyed that he had to explain himself to a child. His voice was low, sarcastic and somewhat angry."Your mummy never told me that you existed."

"Mummy said that you're the reason I'm naughty. She said that I get it from you." Sophia said. Sherlock scoffed to himself. John saw this as a reasonable time to step in.

"Sophia! When was the last time you had a bath?" He asked. The girl shrugged. He then turned to Sherlock. Apart from the fact that the young girl must be uncomfortable and, if left any longer, may become ill due to how unhygienic she appeared. John was starting to gag from the smell of her. Then there was also the way she was scratching her head. As a doctor he saw this a lot in kids her age. Headlice. God knows how long they'd been left in her hair. "How are we going to do this?"

"Do what?" Sherlock asked. "There's a foster home in the next town over. We'll put her on the tube with a sandwich and a note saying where she's going. She'll be fine."

"Jam sandwich. I like jam." Sophia added happily. John couldn't believe what he had just heard. Anger raised up within him.

"You're not running away from this." He growled, trying his damn hardest not to shout at the man. "She is your daughter."

"She doesn't even want to be here, John." Sherlock shouted back. "She'd be happier with other children who are completely unwanted by their parents."

"How can you be so heartless?" John finally yelled. Sophia let out a whine and put her hands over her ears. Her eyes shut but no one noticed. John and Sherlock were too angry at each other. They only looked back towards her when Mrs Hudson came into the room asking about what all the shouting was about.

"Thank God." John sighed before sticking on a false smile and turning to Sophia. "Sophia, this is our landlady. Her names Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson, this is Sophia. She's Sherlock's daughter." Mrs Hudson began to giggle, thinking it was a joke. Upon looking at John's serious stare, she quickly bit her tongue.

"Daughter?" She asked. "Oh Sherlock."

"Could you take Sophia downstairs and give her a bath?" John asked. "Sherlock and I need to talk."

"I'm not your babysitter." Mrs Hudson replied.

"But you are a woman." He said. "Please, just while I talk to Sherlock." Mrs Hudson sighed and looked down at the young girl who stared back up with wide confused eyes. She couldn't say no to a thing as cute as her.

"Come on, darling. We'll get you a nice warm bath. Get you all cleaned up." Mrs Hudson smiled. Sophia leapt to her feet with an eagerness that John had never seen before. She grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Most children hated the idea of baths and screamed at the mere mention of it. Sophia was acting as if it was Disneyworld.

"Can you clean my hair?" She asked excitedly. "There are bugs in it." Mrs Hudson's face dropped for a second but she soon put on another smile. She nodded cheerfully before looking up at John.

"Good thing I keep a bottle of lotion spare for times like these." She said. John could have kissed her. He made a mental note to buy her flowers or something as he watched her take the young girls hand and lead her out of the room. Before they were out of the door Sophia spun around and got one last look at the pair. There was no doubting whose daughter she was, John thought. The eyes said it all. Blue and endless just like Sherlock's.

/

"That's all she had in her bag." Mrs Hudson sighed as she and the two boys gathered in the doorway of the kitchen, looking out into the living room where Sophia sat with a dirt covered bear. She was, as she had told John, showing him around. She was wearing dull, stained, faded yellow pyjamas that were too small. The pants grazed above her ankles and the sleeves above her wrists. Her hair was now clean and untangled. Her skin was much paler than expected now that all of the flith was scrubbed off. "A pair of grubby pyjamas, a bear that's god knows how old and a packet of stale biscuits." Mrs Hudson looked up at Sherlock with a frown. "Where's her mother, Sherlock?"

"Ran away." John answered when he remained silent.

"I don't know how the poor thing wasn't taken off of her." Mrs Hudson sighed. "Those bruises..."

"Bruises?" Sherlock asked suddenly. His face washed with anger, his eyes blazed. Before Mrs Hudson could answer, he swiftly strode across the room. He stood in front of Sophia who smiled up at him innocently. "Show me." He said.

"OK." She whispered. She stood up and stuck her arms in the air, pressing her bear up to Sherlock's chest. "This is Steve! He's my best friend." Sherlock signed and batted away the bear.

"Not the toy. The bruises."

"He's not a toy." Sophia barked as she cradled the bear in her arms. "His name is Steve and he doesn't like you."

"Show me where your bruises are." Sherlock repeated calmly. Sophia glared at him and bit her lip. She looked down at the bear, as if asking for advice, before nodding to herself. She gripped the bottom hem of her pyjama shirt and pulled it up so just her belly was on show. Sherlock crouched down to her height. There were bruises scattered across her skin in different colours and sizes like puddles of murky water. Sherlock's eyes fell closed for a split second before he let out a growl. Sophia jumped in shock. He got back to his feet and walked towards John and Mrs Hudson. "They're bruises left over from being punched and grabbed. Not by her mother, no, by a man. Her mothers boyfriend probably. Coward."

"Oh my." Mrs Hudson said quietly with a shake of her head. "Poor girl."

"I'm sorry." Sophia's tiny voice whimpered. "I didn't mean to make him angry."

"No! No, no." John panicked. "Its not your fault."

"Why is he angry?" She sniffed, on the verge of tears. A chubby finger pointed towards Sherlock.

"He's just... Sad." John tried weakly. Sophia sniffled once more before wiping at her face with her sleeves.

"When mummy's boyfriend was sad or angry he'd hurt me. The television said you're not supposed to hurt anyone." She said quietly, looking back down at Steve who stared back with clouded eyes.

"No ones going to hurt you anymore." John said quietly. "We won't let them."

/

Sophia slept through the night in Sherlock's bed. He wasn't sleeping that night any way but that didn't mean he wanted to give up his bed. John had to practically demand that he let the girl sleep in it. Sherlock wanted to leave her on the floor where she dropped off to sleep. She was comfy there, surely. But no. John carried her to Sherlock's bed and Sherlock stayed in the living room.

He was still there when John woke up and padded into the room sleepily. He didn't exchange pleasantries but instead slapped a handful of notes into Sherlock's hand. "That should be enough. No go."

"Go where?" Sherlock asked cautiously. John sighed and fell back into his seat.

"To the shops to buy your daughter clothes."

"Can't." Sherlock replied quickly. "I don't know how to buy children's clothes. We'll send Mrs Hudson to do it."

"No, Sherlock. She's your daughter." John sighed. He rooted around in the pocket of his dressing gown before bringing out a folded up piece of paper. "Look, I made you a list." He said as he handed over the paper. "That should be enough for now. Until we can..." He drifted off.

"Send her away." Sherlock finished, getting to his feet.

"Convince Mycroft to help." John correct. Sherlock let out a groan as he walked towards the door. He grabbed his coat from the coat stand and shot a glare towards John.

"If Mycroft starts to interfere with this, I won't ever hear the end of it." He said, as he put on this coat. A look of horror washed over his face. "And he'll tell mother. Think of the Christmases." John smirked and watched as Sherlock looped his scarf around his neck and left. He couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going on. Getting Sherlock to go shopping had been far too easy.

/

"You're a good chef." Sophia said from the kitchen table. John looked over and smiled at her.

"It was just toast." He said, watching as she licked the crumbs off of her fingers. She shrugged him off and ran her finger around the plate, picking up more crumbs. "You can have some more if you'd like." John offered. Sophia shook her head furiously making her hair bounce. It had dried over night leaving it curly like her fathers. Her father who had now been gone for quite some time. John glanced at the clock and decided it was time to call him. His hand only just managed to brush over the phone when the sound of the door being opened rang out.

"Sherlock! Finally!" John called out. Sherlock smiled as he walked into the kitchen. Only he wasn't alone. Molly followed with bags of shopping. John gave Sherlock a look that read 'what on earth?'.

"I dropped in at Molly's flat on the way to the shops and she offered to come along and help." He said happily.

"I wouldn't say offered." Molly mumbled as she dropped the bags down on the table. Her eyes landed on Sophia who was frowning in confusion. She smiled down at the younger girl and leant forward slightly. "You must be Sophia. My names Molly." Sophia didn't reply. Molly shifted awkwardly under the six year old stare. "I'm your daddy's friend."

"I don't want a daddy." Sophia said quietly. She looked up at Sherlock next. "Mummy said he's a twat." Molly choked on the air while Sherlock just glared back at the girl.

"We don't use words like that in this house, Sophia." John said awkwardly, knowing it wasn't his place but nobody else was about to step in. "Now why don't you say thank you to Sherlock and Molly for buying you all of these new clothes?"

"Clothes?" Sophia asked curiously. She reached out and slid a finger inside of the bag, lifting it open slightly. "For me?" John nodded. Sophia smiled and reached her whole hand into the first bag. "Do you have a little girl as well?" She asked Molly quickly. "Mummy's friends gave me their little girls' clothes as well."

"Oh no, no." Molly laughed. "These are new. We got them from the shops." Sophia stared up at Molly in awe.

"Thank you." She grinned. "My own clothes! You people must be rich!"

"You'd think." Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

A/N : This is, of course, going to be far more light and humorous than my other nonsense.

I wrote this originally just for my online-friend-come-roommate but I thought you guys might like it.

I took the photograph on the cover and edited it myself in case you were wondering.

Please review.

I will give you a small pot of jam if you review.