Sherlock - fic - The Inspector’s Daughter, PG
Title - The Inspector’s Daughter
Author - laurab1
Pairings - Sherlock/Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Sherlock/Lestrade’s daughter
Rating - PG
Length - 400 words
Spoilers - S1 of Sherlock (and possibly a little of Rupert Graves’ character in Single Father)
Summary - Twilight happens, and Sherlock suffers the consequences.
Disclaimer - Alas, none of these people are mine. This version of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC et al. Sherlock Holmes as created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is in the public domain.
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
The Inspector’s Daughter
by Laura
She’s known Sherlock for five years, since she was ten. Somewhere along the way, the kid who played Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter had turned into the kid who played Edward Cullen in Twilight, and his little girl had turned into a teenage daughter with a fondness for black and vampires.
And a crush on Sherlock.
Bloody Hell. As if being a teenage girl wasn’t hard enough work, at the best of times, she had to go and give herself yet more baggage.
(It’s not like he doesn’t understand, for God’s sake. He’ll continue keeping that thought to himself, though. He’s been doing so for five years, anyway. And now, Dr John Watson has most of Sherlock’s hard-earned regard.)
Greg sees it every time the consulting detective turns up at his house (far too often unannounced): the way fifteen year old Becky looks up at him. He’s her very own tall, pale, good-looking, odd guy! Sherlock might not be a vampire, but he certainly looks like one.
He also certainly looks twice her age. More than that, even. Which is why he’s now at Baker Street, but without a case for the detective and his doctor. Well, without a criminal one, at least.
He’d somehow persuaded Sherlock to put down his experiment and laptop, and make them both tea. They were now sat on the sofa, drinking it. No time like the present, so Greg decides to just get on with it: “She’s fifteen, Sherlock. Becky’s fifteen, she’s my daughter, and she fancies you.”
Sherlock exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. As always, very little of this was news to him. “Yes, since she was thirteen, since Twilight was released in cinemas. Of course I bloody knew, Lestrade. I promise you, sincerely, that I will not encourage or lead your daughter on, in any way.”
“Thank you, Sherlock,” Greg replies, finishing his cup. He places it on the coffee table, and rises from the sofa.
“Thank you, Lestrade,” Sherlock echoes, instantly exchanging his own cup for the laptop.
Dismissal, then. But he has accomplished this side of his mission. Now he must have words with Becky. She won’t take too kindly to this, he suspects; it’s for her own good, though. But if he can stop his daughter making huge eyes at Sherlock every single time she sees him, and stop himself worrying about it, Greg will count it as a victory.
-end-
Author - laurab1
Pairings - Sherlock/Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Sherlock/Lestrade’s daughter
Rating - PG
Length - 400 words
Spoilers - S1 of Sherlock (and possibly a little of Rupert Graves’ character in Single Father)
Summary - Twilight happens, and Sherlock suffers the consequences.
Disclaimer - Alas, none of these people are mine. This version of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC et al. Sherlock Holmes as created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is in the public domain.
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
The Inspector’s Daughter
by Laura
She’s known Sherlock for five years, since she was ten. Somewhere along the way, the kid who played Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter had turned into the kid who played Edward Cullen in Twilight, and his little girl had turned into a teenage daughter with a fondness for black and vampires.
And a crush on Sherlock.
Bloody Hell. As if being a teenage girl wasn’t hard enough work, at the best of times, she had to go and give herself yet more baggage.
(It’s not like he doesn’t understand, for God’s sake. He’ll continue keeping that thought to himself, though. He’s been doing so for five years, anyway. And now, Dr John Watson has most of Sherlock’s hard-earned regard.)
Greg sees it every time the consulting detective turns up at his house (far too often unannounced): the way fifteen year old Becky looks up at him. He’s her very own tall, pale, good-looking, odd guy! Sherlock might not be a vampire, but he certainly looks like one.
He also certainly looks twice her age. More than that, even. Which is why he’s now at Baker Street, but without a case for the detective and his doctor. Well, without a criminal one, at least.
He’d somehow persuaded Sherlock to put down his experiment and laptop, and make them both tea. They were now sat on the sofa, drinking it. No time like the present, so Greg decides to just get on with it: “She’s fifteen, Sherlock. Becky’s fifteen, she’s my daughter, and she fancies you.”
Sherlock exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. As always, very little of this was news to him. “Yes, since she was thirteen, since Twilight was released in cinemas. Of course I bloody knew, Lestrade. I promise you, sincerely, that I will not encourage or lead your daughter on, in any way.”
“Thank you, Sherlock,” Greg replies, finishing his cup. He places it on the coffee table, and rises from the sofa.
“Thank you, Lestrade,” Sherlock echoes, instantly exchanging his own cup for the laptop.
Dismissal, then. But he has accomplished this side of his mission. Now he must have words with Becky. She won’t take too kindly to this, he suspects; it’s for her own good, though. But if he can stop his daughter making huge eyes at Sherlock every single time she sees him, and stop himself worrying about it, Greg will count it as a victory.
-end-