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Violate part 11 (Sherlock’s POV):

“First of all, we would like to inform you that no one has contacted us and told us anything useful regarding the girl’s past,” Lestrade said, folding his hands in front of him on the table. Sherlock internally rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. Why so formal all of the sudden?

“…This means we can’t bring her back to her biological parents, which makes adoption the only option here,” Lestrade continued. John’s hands were slightly shaking, Sherlock noticed. They looked sweaty as well, judged by the shiny reflection of the skin. Violet did not seem to notice though, as she kept examine them, carefully touching them with one finger at the time.

“We have received several files from foster homes who would be interested in her, people who are experienced and who seem absolutely ideal for the job of taking good care of her.”

The police officer looked at Sherlock, who frowned. Was he now secretly referring to Anderson’s speech? . Beside him John just stared stiffly at the table, his jaw clenched. He did not look alright, Sherlock thought, feeling it somehow was his fault. Because now she would be sent away because of him - because of the convincing speech Anderson had made, and John wouldn’t even know.

“We only want what is best for her,” Lestrade muttered confidentially, gazing at the little body on John’s lap for a second. John just nodded, almost looking like a robot, though his eyes seemed sad. Was he the only one who noticed that? Sherlock thought. He felt an urge to grab the doctor’s trembling hand but he knew he had to behave himself and closed his eyes instead, ready for the news Lestrade was about to tell.

“Especially after being reminded,” the police officer continued, “of the general state that babies are in at this age. A phase of selective behavior and generally a tendency of avoiding contact with strangers amongst other things…”

A quiet gasp escaped John’s mouth all of the sudden, but it was only Sherlock who reacted to it. He looked at the doctor with observing eyes, not understanding the flash of realization in John’s gaze until Lestrade finally finished his speech:

“… Yet you have taken on the job of taking care of her, and… Yeah, I’ve been told by several reliable sources that it has been…Been quite a success. You seem to get along with her really well and-“ Lestrade gestured with his hands as if he did not know what else to say. He bit his lips for a second, then placed his fingertips on a piece of paper in front of him on the table. A letter, possibly.

“Um… Of course keeping her a secret can be and has probably been a… a, umm… yeah, well, a mouthful for you, but that’s... We’ll figure something out. What I want to know is whether or not you would be interested in…?”

The recognition of the words hit Sherlock so hard he could not even control the voice inside his mind that started replaying the conversation he had had not even 6 hours ago:

”… It must be quite a mouthful to keep her a secret from others, but you surely seem to somehow manage…”

”… It only took a few minutes of… Let’s say psychologically guiding questions before John without noticing had revealed quite a lot of funny little anecdotes from your new life as a foster parent…”

”…Please don’t scold John because of what he told me. I needed him to elaborate when he accidentally mentioned her…”

”It was for your own good, brother”  

”An advantage, trust me.”
He couldn’t believe it. His body had completely shut itself off and it suddenly felt like he was watching himself on a screen; sitting there, next to John and Violet, eyes flickering and mouth open in total surprise.

“… Interested in… What?” he heard John ask, his voice sounded distant. Lestrade looked at the woman, who until now had kept quiet. She smiled at his shrugging, help-seeking gesture before turning her gaze towards the two men, who both were beyond speechless.

“As an expert in this field, I would say that I find it quite extraordinary that you have managed to truly bond with her so quickly. I have followed hundreds of orphan children throughout the years on their journey towards a better life and a better future and… Just seeing you communicate and interact with her so calmly, Mr Watson, really thrills me because…” she paused, smiling at the little girl in John’s lap, who had no idea what was going on around her. “… I must say that I have seen how hard it can be, especially for babies around her age and younger, to find that peaceful state of mind in the everyday. I mean, you don’t have to do a lot of observing to know that she has been treated well by you two…” she smirked, still looking at Violet, who now babbled sweet little nonsense words to herself.

“… Therefore we would like to know if you’re as interested as we are in making sure not to break that trust and that bond you obviously have developed with her throughout the last 14 days…” Lestrade added, staring at the table in… Shyness? His cheeks seemed a bit pink for his skin tone, Sherlock noticed, still feeling paralyzed, not able to react physically. His brain, on the other hand, was about to break down because of the amount of thoughts and questions that suddenly rushed through his head.

It was insane. Madness! What would John reply? Would he reject her? No, he couldn’t reject her, not now! Had Lestrade lost his mind? Was he on their side now, or was it only a façade that would vanish as soon as the expert lady left the room? Would Violet be happy with this? What would her future look like? Would she mind this? What if she turned out hating him because of this? Would-

“We-… We have discussed this at home and… We both- We both really want to keep her,” John stammered, nodding slowly at the woman. Sherlock pouted his mouth in surprise, staring ahead of him, realizing what this actually implied. He could feel the doctor’s eyes turn towards him, then quickly look the other way. Ashamed of the lie, he had just told the police. It made Sherlock smirk on the inside for some reason. He scowled at John’s shoes, noticing how the thin sole was moving downwards as the doctor obviously curled his toes.

“Really? Oh, I’m so glad to hear that,” the woman said, smiling even wider at both of them, clearly satisfied with the decision. Lestrade just nodded stiffly, not knowing where he should look. Sherlock gazed at him, then fixed his eyes on the woman who kept talking and explaining, it seemed, gesturing with her arms. He acted like he was listening; nodded and smiled at her while she babbled on about contracts and economic advantages for her company. Inside his mind, though, the voices were screaming at him, not giving him a chance to listen to anything but them. On the one hand he felt incredibly relieved and… Possibly excited. But in the middle of all this, a low, roaring, raspy voice scolded him for letting this actually happening. This is not going to work out! She will not be happy, you and John will keep fighting, one of you could die, John will leave you alone with her, none of you can stay like this, this is WRONG!

He knew that the voice had something else coming, but it was as if those thoughts had been blocked by the walls of his mind palace- they wouldn’t let the warnings come in for some reason. He wanted to forget about it, but he couldn’t because he knew that what that voice would have told him if it had been able to let itself further into his head was not good news. Not good at all. And it made him frown on the inside; the feeling of this not being the end.
Violate part 11 (Sherlock's POV)
Lestrade explains everything
Violate, part 10 (John’s POV):

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this earlier?” John whispered, scrolling down until he could see Lestrade’s name on Sherlock’s phone screen. On the inside he was about to burst out in anger. He wanted to scream. Sherlock just bit his lip, apparently he did not know what to say. John clenched his teeth. He felt so… Angry and shocked and frustrated all at the same time, he didn’t know what to do. This afternoon a bloody police man would actually come and pick them up; this afternoon! And Sherlock had known about this and not told him!

“If you think I’m in any way alright with this-“

“I know you’re not, you’re irritated. Your ears turned red again,” Sherlock replied, pointing at John’s ears, then immediately looking down at his feet again as if he had already regretted what he had just said. John’s eyebrows dropped even more downwards than they already were. He felt like yelling and cursing in Sherlock’s face. Yet he still managed to more or less control his voice as he spoke:

“Is this a joke to you? The police have…” he aggressively gestured with his arms as if he was searching for words:

“Lestrade has nothing on her, they haven’t found anything and now they just… Want her anyway for no reason!” he finally exclaimed. Lestrade had been so sure that her real parents would confess but that wasn’t the case now. No one had called up the police and mentioned her. What had the police planned out as a plan B?

“Meeweeee…” they could hear her babble from down on the floor where she was lying on her belly with her arms and legs spread out, doing the “airplane”.

“Sherlock, they can’t take her away like that. They can’t, it will… It can damage her to be kept away from the people who take care of her, she is in a development state of selective behavior, they should know that…” he continued in a low whisper. Sherlock just looked at the little girl, nodding absent-mindedly. His gaze was distant. What was he thinking about?


Sherlock’s phone was vibrating in John’s hand. Another text from Lestrade:

The policeman is waiting outside. A black Volvo; be descreet. Lestrade.”

”It’s time,” Sherlock simply mumbled, looking at the doctor. His eyes seemed more icy than usual. John just stood beside him in complete shock with the phone in hand, dropping his mouth, wanting to say something; protest, argue, discuss all the reasons why she should just stay there with them. But he couldn’t do that. The authority was the one deciding all the rules of this game. A policeman was waiting outside. They could not escape the situation. So John just shut his mouth, clenched his teeth and picked up the little baby instead, doing his part of the job. Sherlock followed right behind him, carrying the suitcase they had filled up with all her things.

They looked at each other one last time. Then the doctor opened the door, gazing around, protectively covering the little girl’s warm head. She did not seem to mind.

“There it is. Come on,” Sherlock mumbled, walking quickly towards the black car parked about a quarter of a mile down the road. John tried to keep up with him and walked faster. He opened the back door, sliding in at the same time as Sherlock did from the other side of the Volvo. A blonde-haired man in sweater, pilot shades and jeans nodded a silent “hello” at them. John raised his eyebrows in response, placing Violet in the baby seat that had been placed in the middle of the backseat. Sherlock just nodded back once at the man, then looked out the window, shutting them all out of his sight.

“The baby seat should have been placed next to the guy driving, how come they don’t know something like that?” John whispered to Sherlock, as his head leaned in to get a better view at the seat belt strap placed between Violet’s legs.

“They probably just want to be discreet ,” Sherlock whispered back sarcastically, still looking out the window. John grunted, holding a seat belt strap in each hand. He looked hesitantly up at Sherlock again, who slowly turned towards him, for some reason understanding that the doctor could need some help with this. And so he placed his hands on top of John’s and systematically guided him through the fastening of Violet’s seat belt.

“The one in the middle first, and then this metal thing through here…” he said, moving John’s hand, which still held on to the strap. His hands were surprisingly warm, John noticed. How on earth did Sherlock know how to do this? he wondered. He looked at Violet, who suddenly started squealing very high-pitched, curling her mouth into a little happy smile. Then she started clapping the back of Sherlock’s hand as if they were playing a game where everybody should place their hand on top of each other’s. Sherlock smiled lightly down at her as he finally pushed the metal gadgets together until they could hear the characteristic “click” sound come from it. He let go of John’s one hand and let his palm face Violet’s. She seemed even more entertained by this; the little clapping sound that came from it when she punched down on it. Then he grabbed John’s wrist and placed the doctor’s hand next to his own, turning John’s palm upwards as well. Violet squealed once again, almost laughed, and saliva started drooling down her chin. She started clapping John’s hand as well, her little round fingers lightly pressing against his skin. John smiled lightly, fishing up a handkerchief from his pocket and started carefully wiping the little baby’s chin. Her eyes grew big as the cloth touched her face, and she instantly tried to look down at John’s hand wiping, squinting her eyes during the process. It made John smile even more. Her adorable innocence was so consoling.

“Ma? Mawawa?” She said, reaching upwards with her arms as if she wanted a hug. John looked up at Sherlock, who elegantly stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. He still smiled down at her, but the smile had turned a bit… Sad. It did not reach his eyes anymore, John noticed.

“Momowomooo…” Violet continued, reaching her hand up towards the detective’s face. Sherlock just leaned forward and grabbed her little palm, placing it around his jaw, letting her explore his face. Her breathing turned heavy in a combination of excitement and concentration and she looked so focused as she followed his jawline, pointing and pressing her finger down on his bottom lip, babbling quietly as if she was conversing with herself. John found himself staring at them. He immediately turned his head a bit, pretending he was looking out the window when Sherlock looked (suspiciously?) at him. He couldn’t help it, it was such an incredible experience, observing the two interact with each other. The bond was undoubtedly there, even though the detective would not admit it.

The car parked right outside the police’s headquarters and the blond guy got out of the car, showing his ID card to one of the guards, who were marching around nearby the building.

“Here, let me,” Sherlock said, unclicking the metal buckle so that Violet was free of the seat belt.

“Alright, should I take…?” John asked, gesturing towards the suitcase. Sherlock looked at it.

“I’ll take the suitcase,” the dark-haired man simply replied (hesitantly? John wondered), leaving the girl for the doctor to carry. He nodded, lifting up the little baby girl, who looked at him with an open - drooling - mouth. He turned around and looked up at the large tower block, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the whole scenario. He was somewhat happy about the fact that he didn’t work in a place like this; too many offices, too much white designer furniture, too many fancy suits and serious faces. Not really his cup of tea.

“Alright, come with me,” the blonde man said. He had placed his shades in his hair and guided the two men into the building through what seemed like some sort of “backdoor”, into a lift, where John instantly slid himself inside right behind the blonde man, next to Sherlock. What now? The detective just placed the suitcase on the floor, then stretched his long frame until he stood upright with his arms placed on his back. John tried to do the same, not really sure of how he should behave. Looking confident and tall and strong seemed like a good idea, though.

“Heee! Hiwawa! Lababooo!” Violet suddenly squealed, as she recognized the mirror walls inside the elevator. John almost jumped and automatically looked up at Sherlock, who just gazed discreetly down at her as she tried to point at the wall behind John. The blond police man did not seem to bother turning towards them, fortunately. John just gestured questioningly with his free hand, shrugging as discreetly as he could at Sherlock. Should he just ignore her? The little girl started her babbling again, doing some sort of waving with her hand. That made the detective turn 90 degrees around towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder into it, while he just smiled lightly and waved back at her. Her eyes got bigger and she waved even more uncontrollably violent, her eyes now fixed on John, who silently followed Sherlock’s lead, still keeping an eye on the police man though, even though he didn’t seem to notice anything. It took a moment before John realized that he was actually rocking her calmly back and forth, tilting his head towards hers as she widened her eyes even more, moving her limbs while staring into her own reflection as if it were a stranger looking back and responding to her.

It somehow felt like, for a long second, that everything froze in the little dark, cramped room. Suddenly the policeman was gone, and all John could see was Sherlock and himself, holding Violet, staring into the mirror walls around them. He looked around, stared into all the reflections that showed off their bodies from different angles, feeling the same overwhelming sensation rush through his body as he had felt it before when he had regarded the building. He blinked and the image of the policeman returned, now followed by other policemen in uniforms. The mirrors disappeared and before John could react he felt Sherlock’s back pressing against his own, as the doctor realized that they were completely surrounded by the police. He turned his head in horror, pressing Violet’s head protectively towards his chest as he watched the policemen approach them from every angle. He tried to breath but his lungs felt like they were already filled up with air, and he could feel a wave of panic hit him hard as he tried to find a way out of there, tried to escape the authority that was facing them and wanted to take her away…

A warm hand pressed against his forehead and John’s eyes were immediately drawn to Sherlock’s in front of him, as he managed to focus his gaze again, feeling dizzy.

“Hey, calm down, breath slowly…” Sherlock whispered, scowling shyly at the policeman next to them. John just nodded confusedly, looking around. They were still in the lift with the policeman. Sherlock’s pupils turned small in concern, as he stared at the doctor, who just kept nodding, looking up towards the ceiling. Nothing strange there either. What on earth had just happened, he thought, finally looking down at little Violet, who was still in his arms, gazing at him and Sherlock in turns.


The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, letting in a large beam of light. What a relief. Mr blonde-hair finally turned around towards the two, who immediately stepped away from each other, acting like nothing had happened. He nodded slowly, sending them both a fake smile:

“Off you go. You jus-“

“… Walk down the hall, then left. We know already,” Sherlock interrupted, not even looking at the policeman, who seemed both surprised and a little offended at the same time by this. The doctor and detective both held their breaths, waiting for the guy to leave. He disappeared into another room down the hallway and as if on cue, Sherlock turned towards John again, eyebrows wrinkled downwards.

“…Are you alright?“ he asked in his low voice.

“I’m… fine, I just…” John closed his eyes for a second, trying to let the cramped, trapped feeling escape his mind.

“It looked like you were gone for a second. And you started hyperventilating, more or less,” Sherlock muttered quietly, as he walked out the elevator, waiting for John to catch up with him so that they could walk side by side. John nodded again, lifting Violet upwards a bit. What should he say? He didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it was it was gone now.

“I guess I just felt a little… a little bit angsty in there…” he said, looking down at the linoleum floor in front of him, trying to control his still sped up breath. Sherlock did not reply, though John could surely feel his icy irises resting on him as they turned left and a moment later stood outside the door to Lestrade’s office. Sherlock didn’t hesitate but simply opened it up and was instantly met by four shocked faces that just stared at them in surprise. Two women and two men, including Lestrade, were sitting around his office table, clearly in the middle of some sort of discussion, sipping on coffee and holding some papers in their hands. Lestrade glared at Sherlock, miming “excuse me” to the others, before he stood up and literally dragged Sherlock with him out of the door again, closing it a little too roughly behind him for it to sound casual.

“What on earth are you doing?,” he hissed at the taller man.

“You said we should come!“ Sherlock muttered, wrinkling his nose at the police officer. Like an unsatisfied child, John thought.

“Yeah, but don’t just burst in there, for Christ’s sake! Sherlock, I’m in the middle of a serious meetin-“

“What about her case-“

“This is about her case!” Lestrade hissed impatiently.

John looked back at Sherlock, waiting for him to answer. He felt like he was watching a tennis match, turning his head from one side to another.

“… Perhaps we should just wait out here then…” he finally suggested himself. The other two just looked at him, Sherlock narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, there are chairs right here for you,” Lestrade said, pointing at three fancy wooden chairs with satin cushions that were placed up against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“Right, then we’ll just…” John said, lightly smiling at Lestrade, who just nodded, grabbing the door knob again. Sherlock hesitated though, standing with his arms crossed and the suitcase placed on the floor between his long legs.

“Look, I’ll call for you, when we’re ready, you’ll come in here in a bit,” Lestrade added, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock as if he wanted to imply that he really meant it. Sherlock did not react, but John nodded in response, biting his lips. Lestrade seemed satisfied with this and let himself inside his office.

It took three minutes. John just sat with Violet, moving her arms up and down and to the side while she seemed incredibly excited about this, discovering new ways to move her limbs. Sherlock stubbornly refused to sit down, walking back and forth with his arms crossed in front of him like a shy teenager instead. The door knob rustled and both men looked up at Lestrade, who stuck out his head. Behind him the other man and one of the women walked out with a briefcase in their hands, bowing their heads in a silent “goodbye” before they both turned in the direction Sherlock and John had come from; towards the lift.

“You can come in now. No, no, just bring her with you, that’s alright,” the police officer mumbled, when John stood up with the little girl sitting on his arm. They hurried inside, Sherlock first, then John, who felt like a student walking into an examination room. Lestrade gestured towards two other chairs identical with the ones outside that were placed next to each other by the end of the table, across from Lestrade. John gazed at the other woman in there; she was sitting with her legs crossed in a uniform not unlike the ones stewardesses usually wear on board an airplane, he registered. Both Lestrade and the other man who had just left were in suits. John started wondering if he should have been wearing a suit as well, discreetly looking down at his own black, worn-out jacket. Nah, he shook it off his mind again. That was completely irrelevant.

They all nodded a quick “hello” to each other (apparently that was the way these people greeted each other out here, John thought) and then Lestrade simply cleared his throat and started explaining everything before anyone could open their mouth and protest.
Violate part 10 (John's POV)
Yay, part 10! John and Sherlock are asked to come so that Lestrade can explain them what is going to happen to Violet (baby-cuteness + angsty warning!)
Violate part 9 (Sherlock’s POV):


“…No, when was it? 20 minutes ago? Something like that. Anyway, she won’t wake up and if she does, you just do as I told you, but com’on…” John grabbed his purse on the table, continuing:

”You know I’ll be back in an hour, tops. Mrs. Hudson will be back here in no time, and by the way it was you who insisted I should be the one changing her and buying food and diap-“

“Sshh, I get it, John, stop talking! I can’t think when you start one of your monologues, it’s like a buzzing noise inside my mind!” Sherlock hissed from down where he was lying on the sofa, placing his fingers on his temples, closing his eyes as if he were suffering from a bad headache.

“You always start worrying when I’m about to leave the flat! You think you won’t be able to handle her and you’ve complained like a hundred times already-“

“You haven’t been out grocery-shopping a hundred times while she’s been here-“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sherlock, shut up!” John interrupted, zipping his jacket.

“You shu- Just… Leave!”

“Guess what? I was just about to!”

“Well, see ya,” Sherlock said in a low voice, not bothering looking up at the doctor, who clenched his fists and marched down the stairs. He didn’t slam the door, though, definitely only because he knew Violet was asleep. Sherlock realized he was clenching his jaw in irritation, now gazing towards the staircase where John had just walked out. Why did they always start arguing when the subject of their conversation was about Violet?

He hadn’t shown John the text he had received from Lestrade the night before. Apparently a police man would come and bring them all to the police station later.

… in the afternoon at some time. We’ll let you know. Behave nicely for once, okay? Lestrade

Something about the last sentence annoyed Sherlock deeply. “Behave nicely”… What did that even mean? It made Sherlock frown. How could that only apply to him? It wasn’t him who had humiliated another co-worker in front of everybody else, claiming that the co-worker did not own the right mind-set to be considered a potential parent-like substitute, that the co-worker lacked “an alarming amount of empathy and generally did not seem to be able to properly express humane feelings, including expressing love for and to other individuals.” Anderson had really thought that speech through; Sherlock could tell. The way his eyes had flickered as he had delivered those words to Lestrade indicated that he had even written it all down and most likely practiced in front of the mirror at home, speculating on how he was going to tell it all to his boss at the perfect time. The time where everybody would be there, not able to avoid hearing what he was saying. They had all completely frozen, hold their breath, waiting for Lestrade’s answer, looking at the freak, who had just been exposed for their entertainment in the meantime…

No. Sherlock did not want to think about it. But no matter how much he tried, the thoughts kept climbing up the walls on the outside of his mind palace. They wanted to come in. There it was again. The voice that kept saying the sentence, he still wasn’t able to finish.

If John had been there beside him…

How would he have reacted? That was the question, Sherlock could not answer. He didn’t dare. That was one of the reasons why he hated listening to John’s angry, insulting voice, because inside of his mind it would start buzzing and he would soon hear it when he replayed the scene on the police station where he had been humiliated in front of everybody. He would hear John insult him alongside everybody else, who undoubtedly thought some of the same things Anderson had said out loud. Sherlock knew that he needed to keep John on his side and prove that he could be good at this. He needed someone to understand him, to understand that a sociopath was able to have and express feelings just like everybody else...

The sound of shoes getting wiped off on the door mat distracted his spiral of sentimental thoughts. The sounds were too quiet to be Mrs. Hudson, too systematic... Then Sherlock realized that he had heard it 10 times. 10 times exactly.

”Oh, Mycroft, you could at least try to control it”, he mumbled, watching his brother’s silhouette appear in the door frame.

“The OCD always seems to annoy you for some reason,” the shadow replied. Sherlock leaned his head towards the armrest, moaning in frustration and irritation, then turned his face towards the wall.

”Perhaps you shouldn’t…  complain so loudly, shouldn’t she be lying asleep around this time?” Mycroft continued. The comment regarding the baby made Sherlock turn his head again, gazing up at his archenemy, who soundlessly entered the room.

”Who told you? Lestrade?”



”It must be quite a mouthful to keep her a secret from others, but you surely seem to somehow manage; I was surprised at first, when I got to know the truth of what has been going on around here for the last… 14 days, is it?”

“14 and a half.”

“Right,” Mycroft smirked;

“… And I hear they want to put her up for adoption? When?” he continued.

“Today,” Sherlock replied. Mycroft raised his eyebrows:

“Today? … And how do you all feel abo-“

“Why does everybody ask that sentimental nonsense? “How do you feel about this and that?” What do you want me to answer?! There is nothing we can do about it anyway; it doesn’t matter!”

“It matters in a case like this, Sherlock! This is not a dead human corpse you have brought home for your experiments, this child is reliant on you and John, and if she is mistreated in any way, it can and will have consequences regarding her future…”

Sherlock stared at the wall again.

“Don’t just turn away!” Mycroft exclaimed. Sherlock could feel his brother approaching him, until he stood right beside the sofa.

“What do you want from me!?”

“I want you to listen and to give me a straight answer when I ask you. Now I’ll ask again: how do you feel about them taking her away from you?” Mycroft’s eyes were resting on him, Sherlock could feel them examine his body language.

“How can that possibly matter?”

“Sherlock… This is not only about you, this is about the way you have bonded with this child for the last two weeks. I understand she is not so happy when you are not there with her?”

“What do you me-“

“It only took a few minutes of… Let’s say psychologically guiding questions before John without noticing had revealed quite a lot of funny little anecdotes from your new life as a foster parent, he told me about his fiancé’s visit. He said that you claim that you do not know how to handle her, but he thinks otherwise. How do you think John feels about the fact that today she is-“

“John doesn’t know it is today,” Sherlock interrupted, staring blankly ahead of himself, almost as if he was hypnotized.

“Oh? And when were you planning-“

“I don’t know,” Sherlock mumbled. Now it felt like a real headache was actually entering his head.

“How does he think about her - do you think?”

“John?” Sherlock said, looking at his brother in surprise. He had not reflected upon that… Not yet, at least. Mycroft blinked. That meaned yes.

“He smiles at her a lot and talks to her as if he thinks she can actually reply, which sometimes sounds really disturbing…”

“You think he would be happy if she went away?”

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, then he hesitated.

“You think you would be happy if she went away?” Mycroft added, raising his eyebrows patiently.

Silence. The brothers’ eyes were completely locked; it made Sherlock feel trapped. He knew that his brother could sometimes just tell what he was feeling by looking into his eyes, and Sherlock did not want him to do that. At least he thought he didn’t. His face expression was about to reveal something, he knew it was. He watched in despair how his brother - his archenemy - slowly narrowed his eyes as if he had found something interesting inside his little brother’s mind he would be able to read.

Then the sound of a little baby crying in the other room made both men freeze for a second, before they both looked at the closed door where the sound came from. Sherlock instantly got up, his torso lightly touching his brother’s jacket as he walked right past him in the direction they both were still gazing towards. He opened the door which made the crying sound remarkably louder, and a moment later he was standing in the door frame with the little baby in his arms, resting his head towards hers, who was facing his upper chest. His hand brushed through her thin dark hair while the other found hers, fumbling with her fingers. The moment she grabbed his thumb, the crying slowly started fading out, turning into little whimpers at first; then again into even more quiet more or less melancholic mumbling sounds.

When Sherlock finally turned his gaze away from her and tiredly, yet relieved, looked up at his brother once again, something had changed in Mycroft’s face. He did not look as serious and reserved as usual, Sherlock noticed without being able to tell what had made the difference. His eyes had just somehow turned warmer, as he crossed the room until he only stood a few feet away from his younger brother. His arms were formally placed and folded on his back when his upright body leaned in to have a closer look at the little baby who still clung to Sherlock, pressing her head towards the front of his shoulder.

“I was hoping I would get the chance to see her,” Mycroft said, tilting his head.

“Well, now you have,” Sherlock mumbled, looking down at the little body in his arms.

“John told me you found out her name is Violet.”

“Mm. She responds to it.”

“Is that so? Well, it suits her, I think,” Mycroft said. Sherlock just nodded.

“… What will they do with her, Sherlock?” Their eyes locked again. Sherlock could sense a flash of concern in his archenemy’s gaze.

“They haven’t told me. I honestly think they don’t really know yet,” he half-whispered confidentially. Mycroft stared at him for a moment, not saying anything. Then he simply nodded, bringing an arm up so that he could run his hand through Violet’s hair.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” he then mumbled and stood up straight and formal as always, gazing at Sherlock one last time.

“Oh,” he continued, as he was just about to walk down the stairs again, looking over his shoulder:

“Please don’t scold John because of what he told me. I needed him to elaborate when he accidentally mentioned her. It was for your own good, brother. An advantage, trust me… Good day, Sherlock.”

The door closed downstairs. Three minutes later it opened again, and Mrs. Hudson’s characteristic shoe-wiping sounds were heard throughout the flat.
Violate part 9 (Sherlock's POV)
It's been two weeks since Violet was found, and Sherlock gets an unexpected visit at home..
Violate part 8 (John’s POV):

“She’s  already asleep,” John whispered, closing the door to his bedroom, where Violet was lying peacefully with the dummy in her mouth. Mary just smiled at him, reaching for her tea cup, so that she could bring it to the sink.

“Just leave it there, Mrs. Hudson would get furious if she found out I’d let you do the dishes,” John continued.

“Right, alright,” Mary smirked. John placed his cup in the sink as well, leaning in and planted a solid kiss on Mary’s mouth. He could feel how her lips were smiling upwards.

“W-what?” he laughed, kissing her again. She giggled, lightly shaking her head.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, stroking his arm. John could not stop smiling at her pink cheeks.

“It’s just… I promised Sarah… You met her here the other day…”

“… When we went grocery-sho - yeah, yeah, I remember her…”

“She needed me to bring her some papers she needs to sign today and… Sorry, sweetie!” She tilted her head when she noticed the disappointed flash in his eyes, grabbing his hand and kissed him one last time.

“No, no, it’s fine, I mean… If you have an appointment, of course you have to - I mean, not that I will ever forgive you if the appointment isn’t extremely important but…” he babbled, gazing upwards as if he was considering the consequences of her leaving him for no significant reason.

“It is, I promise! You know I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t. John! You know I wouldn’t!” She exclaimed, yet he still did not look completely satisfied with her answer. She put on her coat, taking his hand once again, then went in for a hug. John wrapped his arms around her curvy upper body, breathed in:

“But you’ll call, right, when you’re done?”

“Mhmmm, It’ll be the first thing I’ll think of,” she mumbled.


“… I really have t-”

”Off you go!”  John almost commanded, gesturing towards the door:

“… Before I change my mind and handcuff you to the sofa…” he added. Mary giggled, sending him a finger kiss at the bottom of the stairs.


“Where have you been?” John asked, looking up from the computer as Sherlock two hours later literally jumped into the other armchair with what looked like a brochure of some sort in his hand.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier?” Sherlock asked, wrinkling up his nose in speculation. John sighed and placed the laptop on the floor, folding his hands. He needed to evaluate the situation with Sherlock, needed some answers to all the questions inside of his head regarding the little baby girl, who still lay asleep inside his bedroom.

“And? Did they find anything?”

“Nope. But I’d already told you they wouldn’t,” the dark-haired man said, suddenly crumpling up the brochure in his hands. He threw it over his shoulder on the floor behind him.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just some links and book titles.” Silence. John raised his eyebrows, demanding an elaboration. Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking a deep, annoyed breath:

“They want me to study the great art of being a parent, so of course they had written down all the necessary material I would possibly be needing in order to do so. And here’s the best part: who do you think came up with the whole idea of humiliating my status as a sociopath - not a psychopath - in front of everybody?”

John wrinkled his forehead. Sherlock did not wait for him to answer:

“Anderson of course!”

“Did they tell you that?”

“Well, they did not have to, I just had to look into the bastard’s monkeylike smiley-face to know that he had something to do with it. Have you ever noticed that he actually looks even more like an actual baboon when he is smiling? It must be the teeth that does it… No, now I feel sorry to all the baboons out there because I just compared them to him, that wasn’t very nice of me…” he said.

“I don’t really think it would be fair to compare him with anything, really,” John mumbled.

“We would have to write a lot of sorry-letters afterwards, that’s for sure,” Sherlock added.

“…’sorry, mould’, ‘sorry, rats’,” John began. He could catch a glimpse of a smirk on Sherlock’s mouth.

“… ’I’m really sorry, worms and mites, I don’t know what came over me, really…’” Sherlock continued. John looked up, trying to come up with something worse. Silence for a moment, then Sherlock could not contain himself:

“’Sorry, Hitler…’” he mumbled, looking away from John, trying to suppress his smile, because he knew it was highly inappropriate. John looked down, clenching his teeth in an attempt to keep the laughter inside. Both men’s eyes flickered, until they made eye contact. Then the giggling started at the exact same time. John just shook his head, really trying to stop it, but he couldn’t. It was just too bizarre to not be hilarious.

“How come you don’t know the fact that it’s a queen who rules our country, but when it comes t-to…” John said, before he gave up and the laughter took over. Sherlock just smirked with an index finger resting on his bottom lip. John stroked his forehead with the back of his hand as if he was wiping away sweat.  He tried to control his breath, tried to behave himself so that he wouldn’t accidentally wake Violet up. The thought of her sleeping in his room made him clear his throat though. He knew he needed to focus on the seriousness of the case.

“So…” He said, licking his lips: “… What exactly have Lestrade and Co. planned out for her?” Sherlock brushed his chin with his thumb. John was sure he had spotted a hint of something… Melancholia(?) inside the icy-blue irises, when he had asked the question.

“They will mention her in the media… Without letting out too many details, obviously,” he added:

“They will tell the journalists that they have found an ideal foster family that will take care of her until adoption will be considered an option-”

“And when will adoption be considered an option?” John interrupted. Sherlock smiled sarcastically:

“Oh, they believe that her biological parents will confess within the next two weeks… But until then…” he continued, gazing towards the kitchen behind John’s chair. Avoiding John's eyes.

”Then… She’ll be staying here?” John asked, realizing that he was holding his breath, waiting.

“Yeah,” Sherlock simply replied. John nodded stiffly twice, finding himself staring at the sofa table. It just happened automatically, it seemed, this attempt to avoid the other man’s gaze. But John had to ask, he knew he had to ask Sherlock the question, though the words were stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, hoped that Sherlock could not feel... How much this mattered. He wanted it to sound as casual and random as possible:

“… And… How do we feel about that?” he asked, looking at Sherlock’s flickering eyes, until they finally locked with the doctor’s gaze as a reaction to his words.

“We don’t feel anything about it, we can’t change the circumstances anyway.”

Nothing. John could sense nothing inside those eyes, no anger, no annoyance, nothing … He frowned. It was so frustrating to not know how that man felt about her, how he thought of her… But for now, John could not confront him any further, he was afraid of the answer he could possibly be given. So he just nodded, because Sherlock was right; there was nothing they could do but just wait and see for the next two weeks.

And so they did.
Violate part 8 (John's POV)
Sherlock returns from his police visit and updates John on the situation regarding Violet
Violate part 7 (Sherlock’s POV):
Mary reacted a little less excited than Mrs. Hudson when she got to meet the little girl the following day. John had explained all the details regarding the situation over the phone, and Sherlock had literally heard the gasp she instantly let out, as her fiancé had told her that a little baby had been delivered on Baker Street. He had just rolled his eyes at their conversation.

“Alright, but you wanna come over then? Later? Yeah, no, it’s fine, I guess we’re going to stay here for at least…” John said, looking questioningly at Sherlock, who made a “how-would-I -know?” face at him and shrugged.

“… Yeah, this afternoon… Alright, yeah… yep, love you too… See ya.” Finally he hung up. His light smile almost made Sherlock retch. He tried to transport all his attention towards the little girl lying on the floor with her new dummy comforter in her mouth, doing the weird uncontrolled arm and leg movements all at once.

“Mary wa-“

“I know,” Sherlock interrupted, not taking his eyes off of Violet’s, which looked more or less rounder than ever. He could feel John’s annoyed gaze on him, even though he did not complain but simply walked out of the room. Neither had he complained when Sherlock “accidentally” had left him with her only because he had figured that her diaper needed to get changed. Why couldn’t John just accept the fact that it would be so much more reasonable of Sherlock to leave and let him do it instead? Hadn’t he realized that he was simply a natural at doing those… practical baby-related things? Sherlock sighed. In time…

“Hmmmnngh, heeweniniii…” Violet mumbled, dropping the dummy on the floor next to her. She then pouted her little lips, blowing out air between them so that she sounded like a car speeding up. Saliva started splashing out of her mouth during the process. Sherlock made a face, closing his eyes for a long moment in slight disgust, then noticed her arms stretch up towards him, as if she wanted him to lift her up.

“What, you want to get up?” he asked, grabbing her round small hands and pulling her up in a sitting position. She looked down on the floor, clearly confused about the new point of view she had from up there. Sherlock instantly placed a hand on her back so that she would not fall backwards and slam her head against the floor.

“Ma! Mawaba ba! ba!” she screamed, hitting the floor hard with her hands.

“Are you punishing the floor?” Sherlock asked her, looking at her with an almost fascinated, yet questioning look in his eyes.

“What exactly are you teaching her?” John interrupted, suddenly standing in the door frame with his arms crossed. Sherlock gestured towards the little baby and shrugged.

“Nothing, she does it by herself, I haven’t…” Then Sherlock noticed the smile on John’s face and he narrowed his eyes in realization.

“Riiight. A joke.”

“Does her presence confuse you?” John almost laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, smiling indulgently at the doctor’s silly suggestion. John’s smile did not vanish though. Sherlock looked up at him once again, raising his eyebrows like a teenager would do towards an annoying parent, going what?!. John was clearly in his teasing mood now; Sherlock could tell. Something seemed to amuse him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” John smirked.

“I don’t answer silly questions not worth answering…”

“It’s not silly, it’s actually quite simple,” he said. Oh, that man did not seem to give up that easily…

“Right,” Sherlock simply replied, standing up with Violet in his arms. John’s gaze was fixed on him, not letting go. His body was in the way as well, not letting Sherlock through the door.

“… You know what I think? I think it does,” John said right as Sherlock tried to walk past him in the door frame. Their eyes met for a brief moment, only inches from each other. Sherlock noticed the satisfied smile on the doctor’s face; he clearly thought that he had won. Sherlock then smiled down at him as well.

“And you know what I think?” He asked, making John’s eyes flicker a little.

“I think you should walk downstairs and welcome your fiancé inside,” Sherlock continued. He laughed on the inside as he watched John’s smile fade little by little as his own smile got wider.

“W-what?” He laughed a little nervously at Sherlock’s advice:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry … She is not downstai-“


John closed his eyes as he heard the knocking coming from downstairs. He was defeated. Sherlock placed a hand in front of his mouth and widened his eyes in theatrical surprise and exclaimed in bitter sarcasm:

“Ohhh God, seems like there’s someone at the door, who could that possibly beeee?” he asked in a deep, almost singing tone. John bit his bottom lip, clenching his hands into fists. For a second, Sherlock was actually afraid that he was going to punch him, and he instantly lifted Violet a little upwards, reminding John that he should at least behave himself as long as she was with them. It helped. Instead of attacking, John simply just walked away from the other two, heading towards the staircase, towards Mary’s calling voice. Violet mumbled something that sounded like a question, looking in his direction.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, trust me,” Sherlock said, as he waited for Mary to walk up the stairs. A moment later, he caught a glimpse of her blonde hair, and he instantly leaned in and whispered in Violet’s ear:

“There is someone else here that wants to meet you, don’t worry about her, she’s alright.” He then breathed in her baby-scent, fumbling with her little hand until her fingers had grabbed his thumb once again.

“Ohhh, there she is…!” Mary exclaimed, smiling at John, then at Sherlock a little more politely before approaching him. Violet’s arm moved up and down as she noticed the new face in the room.

“… And you were the one who found her?” She asked, looking up at Sherlock while padding Violet on the head. (Why does everybody do that? Sherlock thought.)

“Yes,” he said, looking over at John, who seemed to be in a happier state all of the sudden.

“Oh, wauw,” she simply replied, studying Violet’s little features, while Sherlock gave John a look; don’t just stand there! He felt awkward being the center of attention with the girl in his arms like some sort of trophy. Finally, John managed to actually take some action and offered his Juliet a cup of coffee.

“Oh, it’s okay, I mean, I don’t wanna bother you with anything…“

Sherlock could feel his mobile vibrate in his pocket and reached down to grab it. John ignored him and smiled at Mary, already heading for the kitchen table:

“Of course not, we were just about to have some as well-“

“No, we weren’t,” Sherlock mumbled, staring at the phone screen. A text from Lestrade:

Items now analyzed; would you mind picking them up? Lestrade,

Yes, we were,” John insisted with his teeth clenched. Now it was him, who made a face at Sherlock.

“We just had some…” Sherlock protested, looking up at John with confused eyes.

“I was going for a second cup,” John hissed, making Mary smile a bit, uncertain of what was going on. Sherlock put his phone down, walking towards the sofa table, heading for his scarf and jacket, which he had tossed there the evening before.

“… What?” John asked, while Sherlock surprisingly enough actually managed to put on the jacket without letting go of the baby girl, who had put one of her hands in her mouth, drooling like a waterfall.

“Lestrade wants to see me,” Sherlock simply mumbled and pretended he was searching for something nearby the kitchen so that he could give Violet to John, not Mary (he didn’t know why he did not want anyone but himself and John to carry her around and hold her, but somewhere inside his mind a voice told him that anything else would be wrong. Just… Wrong.)        

John stared at him, resting Violet’s body on his left arm. Sherlock bowed in Mary’s direction, looked her in the eyes and noticed how she tilted her head a bit (in confusion? Admiration? Speculation?). He then saw out of the corner of his eye, that John and Violet were watching him as well. He internally sighed, reaching the staircase the second later.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” he yelled, moving his arm upwards towards the door. He spread out his fingers, forming his hand so that it could grab the door knob; then he heard it.

A little baby crying. He completely froze, gazed upwards towards the sound.

Violet, crying.

He found himself caught in a brief, rare moment of non-deliberated, instinct-based behavior, as he instantly put down his arm again, turning around, running up the stairs two steps at the time, scanning the room before him that he had in fact just left. He found the problem at once.

John had handed Violet to Mary, who tried to console the now crying baby the best that she could, rocking her back and forth, while John spoke calmly to her:

“Calm down, Violet, Mary is not dangerous, calm dooowwn, sshh, shhh…” He said, padding her on the head, but it did not help one bit. And for an obvious reason.

Wahhh! Ehuhuu! Nmmmm, waahhh!!,

Sherlock could not restrain himself:

“You’re holding her in a wrong way, no, don’t let her head stay down like that, she doesn’t like that, move her leg to the left…” He said, coming to Violet’s rescue. Mary frowned, lifting her upwards as if that would help.

“It’s like she doesn’t-“

“No, to the left! Here, let me show you,” Sherlock interrupted, not looking at anyone but the baby in front of him. Mary instantly handed her to him and he placed her on his arm the same way he had just been standing with her a few minutes ago. The screaming stopped the second she noticed his presence. She pressed her little face in towards his chest as if she was tired or just being shy.

“Her leg is out here, see,” he said, pointing at her little left thigh with his free hand.

“… Now you try,” he continued, as he literally placed her in Mary’s arms again, adjusting her position, so that Mary would hold her the right way this time. However, Violet’s face was still curled up as if she had just eaten a lemon.

“She still seems a little unhappy, perhaps you should just take her,” Mary said politely, smiling apologetically at John, who sent her a forgiving smile, stroking her shoulder. He then looked down at the baby:

“Here, you want me to hold yo- okay, alright,” the doctor mumbled, lifting Violet into his grip as he noticed how the little girl’s arms were instantly reaching for him. He tilted his head towards her little one, doing the rocking-back-and-fourth-thing with her, until she (again) started playing with his hair. Sherlock frowned, looking at Violet, then Mary and Violet again.

“It’s probably just her age,” Mary sighed, looking down at the little, now calm, girl in John’s arms.

“Sure, no, yeah, it’s… Yeah, just the way they normally interact… Around that age…” John exclaimed, clearly trying to scientifically explain it in a way that would not make it sound like Mary had done anything wrong. He then gazed and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Sherlock, who still looked a little confused.

“What? Oh! Yeah, Lestrade wants to see me, so…” Sherlock mumbled, clearing his throat. John nodded discreetly.

“I’ll be off, then,” the dark-haired man stated. Then he walked out of the room for the second time that afternoon.
Violate part 7 (Sherlock's POV)
Mary gets to meet Violet as well, but they don't really get along at first..




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