Dalliance

A Study In A New Era

     It wasn't unusual for the youth of London to stumble into 221b Baker Street- in fact it happened quite often. Sherlock just refuses to take the cases of the youth seeing as there are more interesting and pressing cases for him to involve himself.
     This was all very true until she stumbled in. Her hair was a raven and curled in the slightest- soft green eyes hid behind said hair. She wore torn black jeans and a tucked in green sweater with a black leather belt and obviously old black converse. Her lips were pastel pink and full. Her eyebrows arched in a puzzled look as she eyed my companion standing in the light of the window, violin in hand.
      She acted as if she owned the place walking from door and sitting herself on the coffee table between the far wall and my chair.
      My companion waved her off and continued to play the piece he was currently perfecting, a Bach symphony in the key of A minor. 
     Her eyes wandered around the room finally settling on Sherlock playing beside the far window.
     "Can I help you miss," the classic response for when Sherlock waves someone off and leaves me to deal with the sometimes sobbing person in my living room.
      Her eyes met mine, there was something eerily familiar about their brown tone. "Yes," she began "I'm looking for my father."
      I was puzzled to say the least. Young people come in quite often- none with intent such enough to make Sherlock interested, because, after the young girls remark, my friend set down his Violin and turned to the girl.
     "And why bother me with such a thing?" My companion interrogated.
     "Because I believe you know him."
       "And what would lead you to such a discovery?"
       I had never seen such a look of shock upon Sherlock's face when she said what's coming next- I do believe it was a look of astonishment. I am also inclined to believe that my face was just as, if not more, baffled then my friends.
      "Because, Mr. Holmes, you are him."
      After his moment of confusion, an emotion I did not believe he was capable of, he took a step towards the now standing girl. Once he was inches from her when he spoke- hardly in a whisper.
       "You can't be here."
       "But I am," she responded almost silently.
       "You where never born- you died in the womb."
        "Obviously not."
        "Dalliance?" My friend spoke barley audible.
         "Father." Until this moment my companion made it a point to never show emotion- but by the looks of it 16 years ago he had some form of love resulting in this child. She was about the age of my Rosie- who was taking up residence in the apartment downstairs- yet came only an inch or two under Sherlock's six feet.
          At this point I decided to excuse myself- letting my friend reunite with something once lost to him.
           I went down the stair to Rosie's room to inquire her about the mysterious 'daughter' upstairs.
          "Rosamund?" I asked knocking on the door. She opened music blasting out the door- oh the joys of being a single father of a 16 year old girl.
           "Do you know that girl that's upstairs- she claims to be Sherlock's daughter."
            "What's her name?
            "Dalliance."
            "As in a brief love affair," she questioned.
            "Bless your vocabulary," I kissed the top of her head. Irene Adler was the only woman my friend ever loved, and she had the wits to name her child after what her and Sherlock had, a dalliance. If this girl was who she claimed to be it means she was the product of two dangerously smart and deceptive people, "you can go listen to your music now." I turned away.
             "No I want to meet her," she said pushing past me and running up the stairs.
              That's the thing about my Rosie- she's unstoppable when she wants to be. She had her mother's curly blonde hair and her slender and short form- but my eyes. Grey and green like fog off the coast after a storm. Sometimes it was a blessing- the fact that she looked so much like Marry- sometimes it was quite the opposite.
           I wish that Marty's death hadn't driven such a void between me and Sherlock, he pretends as if he didn't feel guilty but I knew my friend more then he cares to believe. I had moved back into 221B and Ms. Hudson was kind enough to lend us a room in the flat downstairs for when Rosamund was big enough.
         Rosie has grown up living in the chaos of Baker Street. Raised by myself and Sherlock she made an interesting mix of the both of us. She had the brains of my companion and the people skills of myself, making herself not only one of Holmes favorite people to have a conversation with but also his girl in a way. Sherlock took Rosie under her wing and took the place of a secondary parent- although I am not gay.
         I chased her up the stairs the top opening on to a surprising scene. Rosie was hugging Dalliance as if they were old friends. Sherlock sitting in his chair a slight expression of confusion in his eyes.
         "Do you two know each other?" I puzzled.
          "Dalliance used to sneak through my window and play with me when we were kids, then one day she stopped coming. I tired to tell Sherlock about her but he always said that I was being silly and he was on a case," she threw a mocking look at Holmes, "She was my best friend- and now she's like my sister. Can we keep her please please please." Rosie hung off of Dalliance's arm. A pleading look in her eye.
          Sherlock rose from his chair and turned the girls. His long slender form like a panther- dark, sleek, and mysterious. My friend has a way of presenting himself in this way when he wanted to show he meant business. Rosie immediately reacted- subconsciously straightening her posture and raising her shoulders.
           "Rosamund, can you give your father and I a moment," Sherlock said maintaining eye contact with me. Rosie and Dalliance stepped out of the room leaving me and my companion alone. Sherlock took his seat again.
          I stepped toward him and took my seat across from him. "Who is she Sherlock?" I quizzed him.
          "She's my daughter. I thought she made that clear." 
   "Sherlock... a daughter. How? Who?"
    "After everything that happened with Marry and Euros you told me that if Irene Adler was still alive to go be with her while I had a the chance. So, I did. We had brief love when she got pregnant. Irene told me she lost the baby and called what we had a Dalliance before disappearing. I had suspicions that she was lying to me but I was never certain and didn't want to give any thought to the matter."
       "What do we do now Sherlock? She's here we can't just send her back to the streets can we?"
         "She is my daughter John. We have a room downstairs as I'm sure Ms. Hudson wouldn't mind." Sherlock's eyes were hopeful in the slightest though he tired to hold he stern emotionless gaze.
           "Yes, I guess that's fine." I said trying not to sound to mad about it or too excited to have another teenage girl in my house.
             And so begins a new era on Baker Street.