sherlockbbc_fic

Teenage son/daughter of Sherlock and John (via mpreg, genderbent, adoption, cloning, up to you guys) dealing with his/her parents' shenanigans or his/her interaction or views of them.

(preferably with some kind of exasperated, fond amusement)

Really rough fill because this seized hold of my mind. Not exactly what you asked for and... yeah. It's a lot weird.

*

John had done the safe sex talk (in excruciating medical detail). John had done the no drugs talk (Sherlock had wanted to do it, but John didn’t think ‘no cocaine unless you’re really, really bored, and Marijuana doesn’t really count anyway’ constituted a decent anti-drugs talk). John, in fact, did most of the adult parent things, leaving Sherlock to explain how to read a teacher’s private life from the wear on the elbows of their shirt and how to pick a pocket and not get caught (John had given up on the ‘picking pockets is illegal’ lecture and resigned himself to the ‘don’t get caught because next time it might not be Lestrade who picks you up’ comment instead).

It was surprising then, to anyone who had ever met her, that John was not the scary one.

John, the ex-soldier, whose illegal firearm was one of the best kept worst kept secrets in London, was not the one you had to fear.

Boyfriends came in and they met her dads (that was always a bit unnerving because they had the ‘can’t say anything that might be even slightly homophobic’ problem which tended to make people trip over their words for a good couple of hours). They sat down and they talked with excruciating politeness to John, who, for his part, plays the straight-laced ex-military man with frightening precision.

She hadn’t been scared of that expression since she was three and he used it on the man who tried to give her sweets at the playground. That expression was safety to her.

Then they met Sherlock.

They always said that Sherlock was ‘cool’ and they laughed with him and they laughed at her stories about him. He was the slightly mad, but mostly harmless, relative to them and she was careful never to use the ‘s’ word – it wasn’t true, but it was the closest thing they had to a Sherlock in the dictionary. The ‘s’ word sent people running in the opposite direction (or invited her primary school teachers to contact social services. And act that had not been met kindly by either of her Dads, or her Uncles).

They found the idea that her parents fought crime ‘cool’ too, they didn’t seem to understand the hospital visits and the lessons in escapology that were more than just ways to pass the time; they were essential (when she was eleven years old she was kidnapped from school by an enterprising man who hoped to get one up on the infamous detective. She turned up two days later on the sofa at home, covered with a blanket and licking an ice cream. The man who kidnapped her was never found. The strangest thing about it, Uncle Greg said, was that Sherlock didn’t even bother looking).
Then she left the room. John would call her away and she knew that it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t refuse when he said ‘help me with the tea, my shoulder’s playing up’ or ‘is this your experiment on the worktop?’

When she got back, the room had always changed. Sometimes the guy of the week was gone (Mark, Stewart, Rob, they all ran) and sometimes they stayed (Ben had been frozen in place, every muscle rigid, Tom had tried to laugh it off and Harry... Harry had always had the survival instincts of a panda).

Sherlock was always the same, though, crouched on the chair, violin cradled in his lap and smiling vaguely.

And they never called Sherlock the ‘cool’ one again.

Authornon, are you still anoning? WE STILL WANT YOU, COME BACK :(

I'm so very sorry to be dim, but what's the 'S' word?

(am enjoying thus far, mind you)

If the relationship went any further than that day (and it often didn’t, sometimes because they ran, sometimes because Sherlock took her to one side later and said ‘cheating/lying/trying to shag your best friend’) then they checked whether Sherlock was in before they called and they didn’t stand on ceremony with John anymore, they drank his tea and they laughed a little hysterically at his jokes because somewhere, behind their eyes, they were thinking ‘this is the man who puts up with him’. ‘This is the man who loves him’ and that was almost as terrifying as the man himself.

It was annoying and frustrating and she wished that Sherlock would just leave her to make her own bloody mistakes and not comment that ‘that top is more likely to attract older men who wish to cheat on their wives’ or ‘that shade of lipstick is one commonly worn by prostitutes’. He meant well, but it stifled her.

Then her best friend went out with one of the men he’d sent running and two weeks later turned up with a black eye.

Later that night she learnt a lot from both of her parents about how to ruin a man’s life in untraceable and dubiously legal ways. Sherlock even lent her his lock-picks.

But if she thought her parents were bad, they were nothing compared to her Uncle.

Uncle Greg was good enough, he was not really her Uncle for starters, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut - most of the time. He wasn’t above eyeballing her boyfriends like they were criminals, but he left the intimidation to Sherlock and John. They were better at it, after all, and he seemed to understand that sometimes she needed someone not quite as crazy as the rest of the family.

Uncle Mycroft was the problem.

She hadn’t thought he took an interest in her personal life. She knew, of course, that he monitored them. Sherlock liked to make cutting remarks about it from time to time, while John bore it with the same hard-working forbearance he used on anything ‘Holmesian’ that is, he didn’t bother with it until it caused problems.

By the time she was five, she was used to the fact that sometimes an anonymous black car would pull up for her by the school gates and she would slide in to be greeted by a woman with a bright smile and far too much interest in her Blackberry. There was always a gift inside – a necklace or a new toy – which Sherlock would glare at when he caught sight of it. Sometimes it would whisk her away to places she had never been before, magical tea parties where she would pretend she was Alice in Wonderland. She even got her Uncle Mycroft into a top hat on one memorable occasion. He would pour her tea or squash and offer her scones while asking after her grades and her friends.

Once she complained to him about a teacher being useless... three days later the teacher was fired and she decided, with a little help from John, that it might be better to keep to the nice things after that.

Sometimes it just deposited her back at home, where she would be greeted by Mrs Hudson and a cup of hot cocoa (with marshmallows, every time).

But she had never thought that Uncle Mycroft would be interested in her boyfriends.

Until one relationship got serious.

She didn’t notice until the car dropped him off again, looking bewildered, worried and utterly terrified.

“He knew everything,” he muttered as she gave him a glass of whiskey (it was always best to have strong spirits around when dealing with Mycroft, John had told her repeatedly, usually after his fifth glass). “Everything. My credit history, my past girlfriends, my parents, the kitten I had as a child. What I was thinking.”

She nodded and patted him on the shoulder. Having an omniscient Uncle was something she had come to terms with, but she could see how it might be a little disturbing to someone ordinary. Her boyfriend had, however, become used to Sherlock, so she was not entirely sure why he was so thrown by this. It might be the government connection. Some people did have problems when they realised that every conspiracy theory they had ever read was wrong, and this was the man in charge of it all. It was the umbrella, probably.

“Did he offer you money?”

“He offered me poison...”

“Ah.”

She made a mental note to have a quiet word with her Uncle Mycroft (this could usually be arranged by picking up a pay phone and saying ‘I know you can hear me’ repeatedly, a strategy Sherlock had taught her).

He was still shaking by the time they went to bed and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would do when he met her grandmother.


*

Uh yeah, and I once swore I'd never write next gen fic again. And I got confused about the title half way through... and I couldn't think of a name for her and... right, going to go away and hide now.

LOVE THIS.

Heh, thanks.

Realised after I'd finished it that I'd forgotten Harry *headdesk*. That's a whole other story, though... spending her eighteenth birthday getting hammered in a gay bar because that's exactly what John told Harry not to let her do.

Don't hide, that was awesome! It was so funny and spot on, I feel so sorry for the boyfriends though - they're clearly not as sturdy as John when it comes to mysterious government officials :D

so yeah, fab fic :) <3

they're clearly not as sturdy as John when it comes to mysterious government officials :D

Very few people are. Also, they're a lot younger, and have less combat experience, which has got to count for something.

Thanks.

There was nothing I didn't love about this story!! Uncle Mycroft was epic, Sherlock and John were epic, the daughter was amazingly darling! I love this so much, do you mind if I marry it?

OMG THE WAFF!

Seriously, I'm not much into kid!fic, but this is so *perfect*. Cute, hilarious, and IC. Perfect.

Oh man, that was hilarious and adorable and a little bit terrifying all at once XD

this could usually be arranged by picking up a pay phone and saying ‘I know you can hear me’ repeatedly, a strategy Sherlock had taught her

Pff. XD That's so him.

dear author,

you've made my bad day so much better!

because this is amazing. really, really amzing.

thank you.

LOVED THIS! And I _hate_ !kidfic...

HOLY SHIT THIS IS EPIC. This deserves a whole 'verse of its own. Where she came from! John and Sherlock with a toddler! Watsons! Moriarty! Gladstone! Being a rebellious teenager! The time she out-deducted Sherlock! ZOMG I AM DYING HERE!!!!!!!

Seriously, though, this is such a good job of showing through telling - we learn so much about these characters through THIS character and we learn about her too. It's just so clever and DEEP and full of heart and I...Mycroft, with the car! Lestrade being the normal one! John's threatening face being safety! SHERLOCK.

Just OMG THANK YOU.

(and, seriously: A WHOLE FREAKING 'VERSE!)

Omg. This is. This is wonderful. I mean, the whole thing is wonderful (BAMF Mycroft! Sherlock terrifying his little girl's boyfriends! John being quietly badass!) but I think what made me squeak the most is that LESTRADE IS PART OF THE FAMILY. *wriggles of glee*

I do hope you'll consider writing more next gen fic in future, too -- this is really great. I love their daughter. :D

(this could usually be arranged by picking up a pay phone and saying ‘I know you can hear me’ repeatedly, a strategy Sherlock had taught her)

I think I love you! :D

OMG! I am re-reading (agaaaaaain) and after the Birthday fics I am wondering: Who organized her 11th birthday kidnapping? WHO GOT HER BACK?????

OMG, this is everything I wanted this fill to be, and cheered me up so much! =D

Haha, poor boyfriends. Poor, poor boyfriends.

I love that the daughter picked up Sherlock's er, habits, and lol at the 'lessons'.

And Mycroft is PERFECT. Ever the doting uncle.

oh my god i wanna just compile all of these fics into a little book and take it everywhere with me! These are all amazing, wonderful, fantastic, and every other adjective for awesome!

Anyone know if this has been finished/edited/archived? I want to rec it to the WORLD.

Did anon!author ever get the external hard drive? Did it fix laptop woes? But most importantly, does this mean the LizzieVerse is nicely packaged somewhere for our linking pleasure?

Oooh, is this what the 'lizzieverse' morphed into or is it just something similar?