PROLOGUE

The five year old child knew this was a lot not good. Mummy and daddy (specially daddy) had already warned, not only her, but nanny that soap operas were not to be seen by children and that it could cause her brain damage. But the child, and nanny, couldn't help it. Today was the last episode and the child, and nanny, needed to know whether the girl and the boy lived happily ever after.

The child was sitting on a nice, comfy sofa and nanny was pressing a tissue to her eyes when the girl and the boy married. They kissed, held hands and keep saying 'I love you' to each other. This made her think about her parents: she had never seen them kissing or holding hands or saying 'I love you' to each other.

She wondered why mummy and daddy never held hands when they went to the supermarket, or when they went to the hospital where mummy worked at, or when they went to the chinese down the road, or the shop next door to buy sweet things to her when she had been a good girl. She had seen people holding hands and kissing, but her parents never did that and she wanted to know why.

The little girl drank more of the chocolate milk her nanny had prepared for her and waited until the couple from the soap opera kissed one last time and 'The End' covered nanny's tv screen. Then, she thanked her nanny for the chocolate milk, took three big cookies nanny baked for her and headed for the stairs. She practically jumped all the seventeen steps that separated her house from nanny's and found daddy was still working.

The five year old girl stepped in and glanced at the pile of papers in the living room, the dummy hanging from the ceiling, which was wearing daddy's clothes, and the big map of London all spread on the floor. Immediately, the girl knew mummy was not going to be happy when she got home: mummy always argued with daddy when the flat was dirty with things related to daddy's job.

She turned to the kitchen and found a similar disaster there. The sink was full of dirty cups and dishes, the floor was covered by old newspapers and daddy was sitting at the table and using his new microscope, a present mummy had given him for his birthday.

She sat across her daddy and waited. Long minutes passed and daddy continued working. Dragging a chair to the counter, the girl found a clean dish and placed the three cookies she took from nanny. Then she placed the plate in the middle of the table, with his chocolate milk and decided daddy should have them because she didn't remember his daddy eating any breakfast or lunch.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Sherlock didn't need to look up from her microscope. The particles he was analysing were the key to solve the case. If the suspect had been to those places he said he had, and then the case was a total mystery. He was the only suspect and –

"Why you and mum never kiss?" The five year old asked.

Silence. Sherlock finally was getting somewhere. Dust, brick, vegetation. Yes. He lied. Of course he did. He killed his wife to get his hands on the insurance and save his company from bankruptcy –

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why you and mum never hold hands?"

He knew he had to call Lestrade and tell him all about it. The suspect wouldn't run away, not when he could save his family business. Besides, he had children and Sherlock knew what parents are capable of when they have children. He was a parent himself and he knew he would do anything for his child –

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why you and mum never say 'I love you'?"

Now he put the evidence aside and turned to his daughter. The five year old girl was sitting across him, drinking chocolate milk and eating cookies he wished she wouldn't because he thought too much sugar was always bad for kids. Maybe he should talk to Mrs. Hudson and tell her not to give his daughter those cookies and –

"You've been watching that thing again," Sherlock said, clasping his hands together and sighing heavily. "Two cookies? That's a record."

"Jenny and Mark married and lived happily ever after!"

"Jenny and Mark?"

"Yes, daddy. Mark's evil brother tried to kill him but Jenny saved him and Mark's evil brother's in jail now. So Jenny and Mark got married at the end."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You are not allowed to watch soap operas."

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love mum?"

"Of course I love her." Sherlock said, standing up and cleaning up the table.

The little girl helped her father by taking the dirty cups to the sink so he could wash them. "But you never kiss or hold hands."

"And?"

"That's what most couples do."

"Where did you get that idea from?" The detective asked, washing the cups and cleaning the counter.

"Mrs. Turner's married ones kiss and hold hands," the girl started explaining between sips of her chocolate milk. "And in the streets people hold hands and kiss too and they do that in telly and movies."

Sherlock frowned. He dried his hands and leaned on the counter. His hands were resting on his hips as he looked down at his daughter and wondered where she was getting such ideas from.

Ah. That soup opera. They should definitely have a word with Mrs Hudson. While he thought it could cause his daughter some kind of brain damage, his wife said it was all fine, that some silly story wasn't going to hurt her more than seeing him dissecting fingers or toes or putting eyeballs into the microwave.

"We don't need to hold hands or kiss like other couples do."

"Why?"

Sherlock shrugged. "We just don't."

"You're weird." She smiled and started helping her daddy cleaning up the living room. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"You love mummy, right?"

"Of course I love her."

"She said she loves you too."

Sherlock smiled a bit. "I know. And I love you too. Now, your mother's coming soon. Why don't you help me cleaning? I'll let you chose supper."

"Dim sum!"