Chapter Text
THE hand of a girl lingered momentarily, inches from the wooden door of 221B. Dark brown curls hung next to her face as a pair of blue eyes peered through round spectacles. There was no mistaking who this girl could be, not even the dumbest person could ignore the hair and especially as she stood outside the very house with said person inside. Her closed hand made contact with the wood and a loud knock echoed through the building. An older woman of around 70 answered the door, smiling when she saw the girl.
She couldn't help but deduce so many things about the woman. How she had property somewhere expensive, most likely central london and that she had a lot of money sitting in the pot. Drug dealer husband, although now widowed... happily. Loved rock music judging by the collection of records on the shelf and how she hoovers the front entrance daily due to constant traffic.
"I know who you are here to see." She said kindly before reaching a hand out to take the girls. The girl with the curls took it before announcing her name.
"Atlas." She said as she tucked a piece of curly brown hair behind her ears and repositioned her glasses. Her cheeks blushed as she said her name, cursing under her breath. Atlas was supposedly a boy's name, although she's said on several occasions, it could easily fit a girl.
"What a lovely name." The older lady said, somewhat not sure what to think of the name. "Mrs Hudson." She said introducing herself, before motioning for her to go up the stairs. So much of her life already had been building up to this moment, the moment she would meet her father. Normally you would assume that a girl would search her mother, but when your said mother is in a psych hospital somewhere in the middle of the ocean, there is very little to go on. In her mind, she didn't want her mother in her life, she just wanted someone, anyone, to give a damn about her.
For so long the young girl had been shuffled from one home to the next, never quite being given what she needed. Now, many puzzle piece's missing she hoped that this would make a change.
Mrs Hudson followed her up the stairs and knocked on the door of what the girl assumed to be the flat.
"Sherlock. We have a -"
"We don't get visitor's unless it's Lestrade." A voice replied as something was heard bubbling in the room next door.
"He's right. However may-" A different man to that who had spoken stood in the door to the flat, not hiding his expression of surprise mixed with amusement. The girl smiled at him as her blue eyes held his own for a few moments.
"Uhh...Sherlock." The man said. It must be Dr John Watson, the man who writes the blog's on Sherlock's webpage. The way he was standing suggested Iraq or Afghanistan due to the fact he was leaning slightly heavier on one of his legs. However, she knew this was psychosomatic and that it was actually his shoulder judging by the way he kept positioning his arm. She made a mental note to ask him later.
Sherlock reluctantly put down what he was working on and made his way to the door. His eyes went wide and his lips were pursed as he looked at the girl in some sort of awe.
"Atlas." She said presenting a hand to the man before he took it. She shook it lightly while reading the man and she began to curse herself. Not the time. However she couldn't help it and she learned rather a lot about the man she was stood opposite.
"I won't be taking your case." Sherlock said somewhat bitterly before beginning to close the door. Mrs Hudson being the bad ass she was stuck her foot in the way and Sherlock frowned at her.
"Let her in Sherlock. You know fine well she's not a client. If she was a client I would have said 'Sherlock! You have another one.' But did I say that?" Mrs Hudson said somewhat sassily. Her hands drawing to her waist, here eyes meeting Sherlock's beaten look. "No. I didn't think I had."
"Plus I really need to ask your friend a question." Atlas added as Sherlock reluctantly opened the door the entire room finally being revealed. Collected dust lingered on many surfaces and Atlas grimaced as she smelt hair burning. Round the corner she could just see some sort of chemical compound in the middle of being formed and she smiled. Maybe this was the right place to come looking.
"Come on then. What's your question?" Sherlock asked his eyes analysing every detail about her. He too was learning much about the girl however she did well at not showing any emotion on her face or anywhere else.
"Dr Watson?" Atlas asked as Mrs Hudson's eyes went wide at realisation. She hadn't told the girl that his name was John Watson or that he was a doctor. And she'd been with the girl since she arrived. Though she put it down to the fact she may have researched them. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
Sherlock shared a look with John before giving the answer. Atlas nodded understanding, clearly Sherlock was on to who she was.
"It was nice to meet you." Atlas said reaching out a hand to Dr Watson which he took gladly. However he didn't let go.
"I'm going to make a deduction and your going to tell me if I'm right Sherlock." John announced before letting go of the girl's hand. Sherlock looked at him expectantly before Atlas managed to say something.
"Your right. Whatever your thinking is right Dr Watson. Yes. Your theory is correct, and yours Mrs Hudson." Atlas said aiming the last section in Mrs Hudson's direction as she leaned against the door frame.
"But I -"
"When I entered you said 'I know who your here to see.'" Atlas explained. "Your right."
"Am I missing something?" Sherlock asked nochantly before John sniggered. Sherlock did in fact know, he wasn't stupid. For God's sake the last time he was with her she was seven.
"Don't over think it." Atlas replied laughing slightly under breath before her own blue eyes met his. And then she watched as the lightbulb of realisation illuminated. "There you go."
"Nope. I refuse to believe it." Sherlock exclaimed before darting into the kitchen.
"I'll come back some other time. I'll be at Books & Beans on Brubeck street until he wants to speak." Atlas announced before picking up her large backpack and satchel and leaving the room. Atlas darted down the stairs, brushing away tears as they threatened, then fell from her eyes.
•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•
"SHERLOCK your such an ass." Mrs Hudson announced as she watched the man standing in the kitchen.
"She didn't say the words. They didn't come out her mouth. She is not my daughter." Sherlock stated trying to convince the others, however it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that it wasn't true.
"You could at least speak to her Sherlock. God only knows the things she's been through." John said to his friend pleadingly. He wasn't about to watch one of the few relationships his friend got the potential to make go rushing down the drain again. "Right you do know."
"She was moved from home to home after three incidents that occurred with her mother. The first was running down the street with her hair on fire, the second was jumping out a window and landing on the street below and the final one was pulling a gun out on people in a public place before shooting and inevitably killing two. Atlas was only around three when that last one happened. Her mother got put in psych. I left them when she was around seven maybe six." Sherlock explained, John's eyebrows narrowing.
"How old is she? What like eighteen?" John asked studying his friend up and down. For the first time in ages Sherlock's face was vulnerable and he looked like he wanted to cry. The normally composed man seemed to be breaking at the seams and John knew that there was more to the story than was being let on.
"Fifteen." Sherlock croaked and John nodded for Mrs Hudson to leave them alone. She did so leaving the two men alone to hash things out. "I counted. Her birthday is the 16th of November." Sherlock's face was blank but in one way it was also withdrawn.
"Sherlock. You do realise her name is actually a boy's name. The titan who was given the punishment of holding the sky on his shoulders." John watched as Sherlock's mouth curved up slightly at the edges.
"Gender neutral actually. " Sherlock laughed slightly before his composure seemed to falter and for a moment Sherlock was the most vulnerable John had ever seen him. "I really failed her."
"But you have an opportunity to fix it." John added, his normal 'don't-mess-this-up' tone being applied. Not long after Mary had died he lived in a pool of regret whilst he held back the whole 'cheating' idea. And he wished he'd made it up to her before it was too late. "So for god sake Sherlock get your coat on, we need to go see her."
•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•
ATLAS didn't expect to see Sherlock and John come waltzing into Books & Beans and order something to drink. It was nearing early evening and she sat quite quietly reading 'War and Peace' by Leo Tolstoy, a rather heavy book. From her little corner of the coffee shop she could observe the people around her and they would be none the wiser to her sometimes long time staring.
"Ah. Hello." Sherlock said seating himself opposite the girl in a little booth. She glanced at him momentarily over the edge of the book, she would finish the paragraph before she put it down. John soon joined them handing Sherlock what appeared to be a cup of black tea.
"That's funny. I didn't have you down as a black tea drinker." Atlas announced without removing her eyes from the page infront of her. Sherlock looked at her funny before taking a sniff and sure enough, black tea had a different smell to that of something other. Eventually, she closed the book placing it down on the table and staring eye to eye with Sherlock.
"It's nice to see you again." Atlas said trying to strike up some form of conversation, however it didn't seem to latch on. "I was hoping you could tell me where my mother is. I just want to know where. Then maybe I can see you every once in a while." Atlas began again. "Maybe...Maybe I could see her."
"You can't." Sherlock announced, John giving him a sideways look of somewhat disapproval.
"Why can't I?" Atlas asked her own mind taking different pathways to analyse the situation as best as possible.
"You just can't." Sherlock announced again, this time something in his voice quivering slightly as he said it. Again confused as to why he said it, Atlas decided not to press it. Something wasn't adding up, but inside she was bubbling at the thought of her dad being sat just opposite her.
"Okay." She whispered quietly, Sherlock's head snapping up to meet her eyes.
"I would say you look like her-"
"But I don't. I look like you. I looked like you when I was seven years old." Atlas announced her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Did this mean that Sherlock was admitting it? Saying it was true?
"Have you got somewhere to stay?" John asked, shocked when she shook her head and gestured to the bags leaning against their feet under the table.
"I was going to try a few B&B's. Just see what I can find." Atlas said as she looked at the man. She didn't like what he was about to offer, but it was probably safer than most places at the moment.
"Stay with us." Sherlock said, surprising both parties until they realised that this situation was rather different to normal. "You might have to take the couch until we can figure out what to do. John's selling his house."
"How old's your daughter Rosie?" Atlas asked.
"I don't remember mentioning Rosie." John said critically of the girl. Suddenly an urge uncertainty courses through his veins.
"There is a flower hanging out your jacket pocket and a photo on the mantelpiece in the hall of a young child and inside the frame is a note left by your late wife." Atlas began. "I could go on, but I don't want to."
"Bloody hell. Your just like him." John exclaimed while Atlas laughed. She looked around the cafe before sharing a knowing look with Sherlock.
"It's strange to find walking down the street a game." Atlas began her mouth speaking what her brain thought without a filter. "Do you ever find it get's to be too much sometimes?"
Sherlock silently nodded taking a sip of his tea. He reached a hand over and took her own and in a moment she felt happy. It was strange that her father could do that but she seemed relaxed. "And then sometimes my brain works to fast and I can't get the words out my mouth fast enough." Sherlock laughed, Atlas joining in.
"Half the time its illegible and then you change your mind two seconds later." John added and the laughter continued, something easy between the three of them. Little did they know, that it was only the beginning.