A/N: Oh gosh I'm writing parent!lock. This idea came to me before a nap. Bear with me.

Rain pounded down on Baker Street. A woman left a labeled bundle on the doorstep of the flat addressed as 221b. She rang the doorbell and then turned, tear-stained face looking relieved. She hurried off in to the shadows as she heard an older woman call out to someone. The bundle would be safe and now she could be at peace.

John was suppressing a giggle as he unlocked the front door to the flat. He and Sherlock were still on an end-of-case high. Running through the streets of London at midnight in the pouring rain, gun cocked and aimed –

"Oh! Boys, I – John, there's something, oh goodness." Mrs Hudson was up in arms. John's protective nature kicked in and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"All right now calm down." He said softly. "What is it?"

"You've been left a present." Sherlock said flatly. He looked ominously towards Mrs Hudson's flat.

Mrs Hudson started walking forward, muttering to herself. John followed, nervousness pooling in his gut. He could feel Sherlock's presence behind him, the second man obviously curious. Mrs Hudson fluttered her hands around a … car seat that usually held infants. John froze, Sherlock stopping next to him.

"John, she came with a note addressed to you, I just – it was raining and I didn't know…" She crossed her arms in exasperation. "I couldn't just leave her out there."

John stood, shocked, in the doorway while Sherlock swept forward, eyes flashing. He picked up a note, read it, flipped it over once, twice, three times, and then threw it in John's direction. John kicked forward to catch the letter. It was just a small bit of paper, the words were written quickly.

John –

She's beautiful, but she's too much like you. Her name is Lana. Take care of her. Please.

John stared at the note in disbelief. A baby. A baby? When was the last time he'd even had sex? Oh God … about ten months ago. Shit.

Sherlock had the baby out of the car seat, holding the tiny human away from him like it was contaminated. He'd obviously never held a baby before. He wasn't even supporting her head!

John rushed forward and took the little girl away from the detective as gently as possible. Mrs Hudson clucked and tutted and awkwardly walked circles around them. John looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. She had a small tuft of dark hair and big blue eyes. She jerked a little but then looked up at John and immediately relaxed, something like wonder crossing her face.

John felt a huge goofy grin break across his face. She was so beautiful. "Lana," He whispered to the baby girl. "What a pretty name." He traced her cheek with his index finger and then put it next to her little hand. He watched in amazement as five tiny digits curled around his.

"John, she can't stay." Sherlock said curtly.

John's head snapped up. "What."

"We can't take care of a child." Sherlock's how-big-of-an-idiot-are-you face brought out the sneer in the detective's voice. "How would we feed her or clothe her? Where would she sleep? What would she do while we were solving cases?" Sherlock waved his hands next to John's head. "Think it through a little!"

John felt his arms tighten around the little girl, his daughter. "Where will she go?"

"John stop being so thick. We'd put her up for adoption. Leave the mess to someone else." Sherlock straightened and began to walk out of Mrs Hudson's flat.

Something inside John was screaming. He was instantly protective and possessive of the infant in his arms. "No." He said.

Sherlock turned slowly, his expression mocking confusion. "What?"

"I said no, Sherlock." John raised his chin a little, feeling rebellious; the warmth in his arms giving him strength.

"John, you don't even know if she is really your daughter." Sherlock retorted, glacial eyes narrowing.

"I'll take her to Bart's tomorrow and get a paternity test." John shot back. "We probably won't have another case for a while anyway. You've just finished one." John looked back down at the baby. She was nearly asleep. His heart melted. "I – Sherlock, she's just a baby."

Sherlock's shoulders drooped, his head turning in what could be called disgust. "Fine. Keep it until you know for sure if it's yours." He headed back out of the flat and towards their own.

John ignored the obvious dehumanizing of the child in his arms looked at Mrs Hudson nearly helplessly. She took the little girl from his arms and immediately the infant started fussing. John felt his heart tug and he took her back. "Lana," He cooed. "Lana, baby, shush now. I'm here." The baby quieted once she saw John's face again and he couldn't help the ridiculous smile that crawled across his face.

Mrs Hudson put her hand on his shoulder and looked at the girl in his arms warmly. "Do you want me to go buy some formula and some diapers?" She asked quietly.

"Mrs Hudson, you are a saint." He looked at her in near disbelief. He gave her cheek a quick peck. "That would be beyond helpful. She's probably just about a month old."

"Got it." The land lady said, throwing on a coat. "Be back in a tick."

"Thank you!" He called after her. John looked back at the baby in his arms. She was asleep now. He rocked her gently, unable to help himself. "Lana," He whispered again.