Chapter Text
John was waiting for Sherlock to come home. A few days earlier Mycroft had informed his younger brother that their cousin, Lysander, and his wife had been killed in a car accident. Sherlock had looked stunned then saddened. He'd explained to John that he and Lysander had been quite close as children, being similar in age. He hadn't cried, just sunk into silent contemplation, moonstone eyes distant.
Two days ago the Holmes brothers had left for the funeral. John had wanted to go with his husband but hadn't been able to get the time off. Sherlock had looked lost for a moment before John assured him he'd be waiting at home, with tea and a take away, when he returned.
The slamming of cars doors seconds before the front door banged open, alerted John to Sherlock's return home. The door to the flat smashed into the wall as Sherlock strode in, face like thunder. John stared at him, alarmed.
"Sherlock? What's wrong?"
"Lysander... He... It's too ridiculous!"
"Take a deep breath and explain."
"Prehaps I can assist there, John," Mycroft said calmly, from behind his brother. "I would like to introduce you to Lyssa."
Sherlock moved out of the door revealing a tiny figure.
"This is Lysander and Diane's daughter. Sherlock was named as her guardian in their will."
"Which is incredibly stupid!" Sherlock snapped. "What do I know about children? Why can't you take her?"
"Because I know even less than you," Mycroft replied, tugging his cuffs straight. "And you are the legal guardian."
John couldn't tear his eyes from the girl. She couldn't have been any older the six. Her long, black hair was caught in a ponytail, skin as pale as Sherlock's. Her eyes were huge and as green as jade, looking straight at the doctor. Tears filled those eyes and before he known what he was doing, John knelt down, wrapping his arms around the girl.
"You poor thing," he murmured as she sobbed into his jumper. "It's alright. We'll take care of you."
"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock asked, incredulous. "WE will take care of her?"
"Yes, Sherlock, WE will. She hasn't got anyone else..."
"On the contrary, she has Mycroft..."
"I think not," the elder Holmes snorted.
"Mummy..."
"For God's sake, she's nearly 80."
"And Diane's parents."
"Who want nothing to do with her as well you know. You heard them at the will reading."
Lyssa clung tighter to John as the brothers argued.
"We could put her into care if you're truly against raising her," Mycroft suggested.
"No!" John cried. "Sherlock, we can't. She's alone and frightened. You two are the only family she knows."
Sherlock's sharp gaze focused on his husband, seeing how he was holding the little girl so protectively.
"You want us to raise her together," he deduced. "You want to be a father figure to her."
Looking down into the tiny, tear streaking face, John nodded.
"Yes I do."
Lyssa slid from his grasp, crossing to Sherlock. Staring into his face, eyes so serious, she studied the detective.
"My Daddy talked about you alot. He said you were the smartest, kindest man he ever knew. He said you'd always look after me if... If anything..." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. John took a step towards her but Sherlock had knelt and taken her in his arms. His face was thunderstruck. It reminded John of the moment Sherlock realised he was in love.
"Please, 'Lock," Lyssa sobbed. "Don't send me away."
"What did you call me?" he asked gently.
"Daddy always called you 'Lock. Thats how I know you."
Long, pale fingers brushed the tears from Lyssa's face and Sherlock gave her a small smile.
"Of course we won't send you away. You belong here, with us."