The rain was pounding down on the roof of the flat. John sat at his computer, sipping tea as he proof-read his latest blog post. Sherlock sprawled out by the window, hands clasped in prayer as he looked out at the stormy skies, thinking.

He glanced down at the street below, seeing a dozen or so people running with umbrellas or hands above them, jackets pulled taunt against the elements. One of the figures turned left, ducking under the Speedy's awning.

"John, make sure to open the door. We have a guest." He murmured. John looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't hear a knock."

Clunk-Clunk

Sherlock smirked. John rolled his eyes and stood.

"How do you do tha..." He faded off as he opened the door. "Oh, hi sweetie." His voice immediately changed to something sweeter, softer.

"John, why is there a child at our door?" John sighed through his nose.

"How can you even tell, your back is turned."

Sherlock scoffed. "I judged by the alarming amounts of condescension in your voice." He stood. "Paired with the smell of perfume only worn by office receptionists and-" He turned around. "Teenage girls."

The girl at the door had dark hair with spring curls that hung in her face. She was thin with high cheekbones and alabaster skin. Her jacket was wet from running in the rain. Her eyes, darting and grey, looked up at Sherlock with curiosity.

Sherlock strode to the door and peered down at her. "If you're here to hire us for an investigation we're closed. Come back in the morning."

She smirked. "Please, anything worth finding out I can do on my own."

John bit back a shocked chuckle. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, but they quickly narrowed again.

"Quite a lot of cockiness from someone whose...thirteen?"

"Fourteen." She shot back. "It's not cockiness if you're good at what you do."

Sherlock stared at her intently. John coughed awkwardly, causing both the girl and Sherlock to look at him. He smiled uncomfortably, leaning down a bit so he was at eye level with the girl.

"Sorry, honey, but, who exactly are you?"

She raised an eyebrow and pouted. "I thought it was obvious. Apparently not. Disappointing."

"Maybe not to the average mind but to an extraordinary one it is transparent." Sherlock spoke sharply from behind John.

John groaned in exasperation. "Then ENLIGHTEN me, oh Great One. Sherlock, who's...who's this?"

Sherlock glanced at John, then back at the girl. His eyes scanned her.

Private school

Single parent household

Type AB blood

European decent

High intelligence

No respect for authority

The facts all added up. There was no denying it. He swallowed, looking the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

"Well, She's...she's my daughter."

John's mug crashed to the floor and broke into a hundred pieces. The girl smirked and looked at Sherlock with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Hello dad."