Consulting Daughter (BBC Sherlock)

Dad

Sherlock's POV:

Two hours.

The woman had been sitting in my living room for two hours.

If I thought very casually about it, she wasn't there at all. I could almost imagine someone else sitting in her place- anyone at all who was not radiating false charisma and disrupting my beautiful silence.

"I'm bored." The woman pouted.

"Not my problem." I shrugged.

"I haven't had any fun in ages."

"Not my problem." I repeated.

She was silent. Then: "Let's have dinner."

I glanced at her, annoyed.

I was just starting to think that John, Molly, and Kyna were never going to come back and I was going to be alone in the living room with a dominatrix forever, when the door opened.

"Sorry we're back so late." John apologized, breathless and cheery. "Molly wanted to stop by the grocery store." His arms were full of bags; as were Molly's and Kyna's.

"Well it's not my fault. Honestly, has anyone else noticed that there is never any milk in the fridge? It's always fingers and eyeballs."

"What's wrong with that?" Kyna asked. She and Molly struggled with their bags.

I shot up from my chair to help.

"Th-thank you." Molly turned a little pink. I ignored that. I noticed Kyna smirking at me and I ignored that as well.

"What's this? Is Sherlock being nice?" My daughter asked, as I relieved her of her burden.

"I'm nice," I demanded.

Everyone laughed, including the woman.

"Mister Holmes, I have never seen anyone less kind."

"I-"

There was a knock on the door.

Everyone turned to look at it. I frowned. Only one person ever knocked like that. Two taps- three taps.

"No!" Kyna warned, no doubt thinking just as quickly as me, but John had already opened the door.

"Wiggins," I growled, my displeasure clear in my tone.

"Hello." He waved. His fear was intoxicating. In his books, he was making a declaration of courage just by being here.

I looked around for Kyna, but suddenly, she wasn't in the room.

"Joss isn't here," I told him, catching onto her subtle hint. "So you can leave."

"I need to talk to her, please."

"No you don't." I told him.

"Yes, I do."

We stared at each other. He looked terrified, but he stood his ground.

"I don't think you heard me, Peter." I hissed.

"Wiggins, you'd better just leave," John said, eyeing me cautiously.

Molly was slowly creeping towards the kitchen, like she didn't want to be noticed. Irene had made a stand and was just behind me, her eyebrows arched.

"Who is this?" She asked quietly. I felt her nails dig into my shoulder.

Peter held out a hand. "I'm Kyna's boy-"

"He's my informant," I interrupted.

There was an awkward pause.