Sherlock burst into Lestrade's office. It had been roughly 8 in the morning when Sherlock got a text from the Detective Inspector, saying to come down to Scotland Yard immediately so that he could be briefed on the latest case that Lestrade had for Sherlock. John wasn't with the Consulting Detective, as an hour before the text he had had to go to work for a surgery.

But inside the office was not a gray-haired man waiting some-what impatiently for Sherlock to arrive. Instead, sitting at Lestrade's desk, was a little girl, about 5 years old. Her hair was a dark brown and fell slightly past her shoulders (Slightly damp, recently had a bath). Blue eyes were glued on a paper in front of her as she worked at it with a crayon (left handed, crayon dull from use). Her clothes were a skirt and shirt with a small jacket (simple, but new and tidy). Next to the girl sat a bright pink backpack, almost bursting from holding so many contents (Going to be staying away from home for a while).

After a few seconds, in which Sherlock had approached the desk and placed his hands on it, making his presence known, the girl looked up.

"Hello!" The girl chirped happily.

"Where is Lestrade?" Sherlock's voice was slightly annoyed at having to wait like this, with a case so close.

"Daddy's out getting coffee. He told me I can wait here, since I'm a big girl." The way she said the words 'big girl' made it sound like it was the highest praise of all. Sherlock easily pieced together the rest of the girl's story. Most likely she lived with her mother, and this was one of the few times that she got to visit Lestrade, or 'daddy', as the parents was most definitely divorced. Her mom had dressed her up in the best clothes she had in hopes to impress the father and show they were doing fine without him. She had taken a rushed bath before coming, probably getting as clean as she could before seeing her father.

"Great, he's making me wait." Sherlock grumbled and sat down in a chair, starting to escape to his mind palace. Before he could completely accomplish this, however, the little girl spoke and broke into his thoughts.

"I'm Alice." Sherlock didn't respond. "What's your name?"

"What does it matter to you? You are at a young age that will mean little to you once you have grown, nor will you remember much from it."

"Please?"

"Adding the word does not invoke any more emphasis than any other word." Alice huffed slightly at this word, but didn't say anything for a few more moments. Feeling relieved the little girl was finally quiet, Sherlock once again started into his mind palace. He was well into it when a voice much closer than he expected it to be forced him out of it once again.

"Look what I made!" Sherlock's eyes shot open to see a crudely drawn picture centimeters from his face. It depicted a figure made out of different colored circles and lines. If you used more than a little imagination, it could look like a man with gray hair standing on grass. He was smiling, and next to him was an even worse looking figure of a girl, one arm much longer than the other so that it could reach the circle that served as the man's hand. Alice was probably looking for a compliment, but Sherlock was not amused in the slightest.

"You're art is horrific." Sherlock commented before closing his eyes once again. Alice stuck out her lower lip at this, pouting, and folded her arms.

"You must be Sherlock." At this, Sherlock's eyes open and looked at the girl, who had wandered back to Lestrade's desk and was now drawing on a new piece of paper.

"How would you know that?" In spite of himself, Sherlock was shocked that the girl knew him, or at least his name. Sure he was Lestrade's daughter, but they didn't live together.

"Whenever I talk to daddy, he always talks about you." Alice didn't look up as she put away a grey crayon and took out a cobalt blue. "He talks about how you think you're smarterer than everyone, and how you get on lots of lastest nerves. Sometimes when he talks to me on phone, daddy goes on and on about how he hates it when you get in trouble on purpose, or you don't eats for days." She now replaced the blue and took out a black. She touched it to the paper, but didn't bring it across the paper, instead looking up, her face showing a little bit of confusion and a whole lot of curiosity.

"What?" Sherlock snapped as Alice's gaze intensified.

"Aren't you gonna' say something mean?" Her young, blue eyes met his own intense gaze, unwavering. When you're that young, you don't know fear, and this child didn't have a speck of that emotion yet.

"You have interested me. You may continue if you wish." Alice smirked as best a 5 year old can as she heard the nearly nonexistent plea in Sherlock's voice. Sherlock, in spite of himself, was enjoying this peek into Lestrade's life and what he said about him.

"Usually once he's done ranting, he talks about another kid. He calls the guy his son, which I guess would make him my brother, but I've never seen him. He never even says his name. But he does say that he met the kid before I was even born. The guy was really, really sick, and daddy helped him get better. He stills sees the guy, but he's not the same boy that he used to know. Daddy says the change is good though, so I guess my brother is good." Alice smoothed the paper as she finished what she was working on. She held it in front of her, lips pursed as they looked over the paper at Sherlock and then back to the paper.

"Daddy had told me what he looks like though. Daddy says my brother is really tall and has curly, black hair. His eyes are somewhere between blue and green and he's really skinny and really pale." The pursed lips curved into a smile now. "And I'm happy I finally met him." Getting off the chair, she walked over to him and handed the paper to Sherlock, who took it in his hands and brought it to his face, looking at it in interest.

On the paper was a man who was so tall that his head was at the top of the page and his feet were touching the bottom. The man's limbs were made out of lines, making him inhumanly skinny. His hands and feet were simple circles, filled in quickly and with the white paper showing through in many spots. His head was a longer oval; on the top was a mass of black curls. The man's eyes were green, with blue scribbled on top of them. His mouth was a straight line. A long overcoat was drawn on his thin form, along with a blue scarf.

Before Sherlock could say anything, the door to the office opened and in walked Lestrade, a cup of coffee in his hand. Sherlock quickly folded the paper and stuck it into one of his pockets. Lestrade didn't seem to notice him for a few seconds, scooping up Alice and pulling her into a hug and kissing her all over her face while Alice let out happy, high-pitched giggles. Putting the girl down on top of his desk, the Detective Inspector turned and faced Sherlock, grabbing a file from his desk and handing it to Sherlock.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Sherlock. I didn't expect you to be here so quickly. Now then, many believe that this was a suicide, but there have been several, extremely similar 'suicides' in the space of 4 days…" Lestrade trailed on about the case, and soon Sherlock was swept up into it, Alice momentarily leaving his mind.

Later that night, as Sherlock was making himself some tea (John was still at the hospital), he reached into his pocket and felt something. Pulling it out, Sherlock immediately recognized the picture that Alice had drawn of him. A rare, small smile graced the Consulting Detective's mouth as he walked over to the fridge and, taking 2 magnets, set his 'little sister's' picture on it.

When John came home late that evening and asked about it, Sherlock would claim that he had no idea where it came from.