"Bored." A moments silence. "I'm so very bored." Another pause.

Sherlock threw himself up and out of his chair and started to jump around on the sofa. He then sat back down. He steepled his hands and began to think, not there was much to think about. No new cases that excited any client that came to him was so dull. Dull.

"Why are the criminal underworld deciding to be so delightfully boring." Sherlock moaned.

"Well what about the case that…" John started before being cut off. John was behind his laptop typing another of his and Sherlock's cases for his blog.

"Delightfully dull. He wasn't dead, he's run off with his lover and just made it looked as if he was dead." Sherlock continued in his monotone voice.

Sherlock stood and picked up his violin and bow and started to play whilst walking around. Mrs Hudson walked in with a cheerful "hoo hoo" and went into the fridge and let out a squeal.

"Thumbs. Sherlock. Thumbs." Mrs Hudson said as she shut the fridge and quickly as she had opened.

"Throw them away they are too old now. The experiment didn't work. Oh and make tea as well. A nice brew to help stimulate the mind in this day of bored." Sherlock asked as he lowered his violin.

"I'm your landlady not your house keeper." Mrs Hudson uttered as she walked out of the room.

John had left to go to work at the surgery some time ago. Sherlock was just in his chair looking into the kitchen doing absolutely nothing. Mrs Hudson came in and out and spoke to him but it clearly wasn't important enough as he filtered it and paid no attention to what she had said. Just then his phone started to buzz. Lestrade. Sherlock thought a great deal about whether or not to answer the phone. It was a great effort but Sherlock answered the phone. John walked through the door just as Sherlock answered the phone.

"Lestrade. What do you want?"

"Hello to you to." The detective replied slightly offended. "We've got a murder. Victim's been dead no more than a couple of hours. No witnesses. It looks like a Study in Pink all over again."

"What do mean?" Sherlock queried

"You'll see you get here."

"Is Anderson going to be there?"

"Yes. Why?

"He annoys me. I can't work when he's around and Donovan." Sherlock huffed

"Just come." Lestrade said before hanging up the phone.

Sherlock stood up and put his blue scarf around his neck and his woollen coat and ran down the stairs. Utterly clueless. The police are totally clueless. Sherlock thought as he hailed a taxi. Both he and John climbed in. They arrived and they walked straight towards the flat.

"Freaks arrived." Donovan said as she lifted the police tape for John and Sherlock

"Piss off Donovan." Sherlock called as he walked straight past her.

Sherlock and John went straight upstairs and were greeted by Lestrade. Sherlock examined the body. Middle aged female. Business woman judging by the suit. Multiple cuts to the lower arms and backs of the upper leg. A further four cuts were made to right side of her neck. All fresh and deep across main veins and arteries. Not a self-harmer no scars to prove. Sherlock spotted a screwed up piece of paper in her closed hand. He pulled it out.

You're going to enjoy this game, Sherlock.

"What's that a note?" John asked.

"Not a suicide one." Sherlock whispered to John. "This isn't suicide. She was murdered."

"What are you talking about, freak." Anderson spat at him.

"Shut up Anderson. Actually get him out of here. I can't concentrate and he's lowering the IQ of everyone in the room." Sherlock retorted.

"Sherlock" John said trying to get him to stop.

"I'm staying to see how you know this wasn't a woman who had enough committing suicide. We found the knife in her hand covered in blood. We taking it for fingerprint analysis." Anderson said trying to better Sherlock. "The knife…"

"Bye Anderson." Sherlock stood up and pushed Anderson out of the room and slammed the door in his face.

"Have you got any evidence to prove that this is murder, Sherlock." Greg asked.

"Not yet. However, she wasn't a self-harmer no evidence of scars to prove that she had previously cut herself also no suicide note the only note that was found clearly wanted me to investigate, I don't investigate suicides, I investigate murders. The note was clearly written by the victim under pressure. It's scruffy and scruffy they were clearly being held a knifepoint. This is opposite to a Study in Pink this isn't self-inflicted this was done on purpose. The note suggests that there is going to be more bodies. Lestrade call me as soon as another body turns up." Sherlock opened the door. "Out of my way Anderson."

Sherlock was sat in usual char in 221B Baker Street waiting for Lestrade to call about another body. Nothing added up he knew it wasn't a suicide but how did he prove it wasn't a suicide. John was due back from work at some point soon. He heard the front door shut. John was talking to Mrs Hudson but he knew that somebody else was there. A girl, she was about 15. Sherlock was confused, why was John bringing home a teenager. He listened in.

"She came in to surgery. She had been attacked. She told me she'd been living on the streets for months. Her mother had been killed and she hadn't seen her dad in 10 years." John explained.

"Poor thing." Mrs Hudson said sympathetically. "Sherlock. What's he going to say."

He suddenly paid more interest when he heard his name being mentioned.

"She knows about him." John said.

"Thank you for this. You don't have to." He heard the girl speak for the first time.

"Don't be silly."

He heard both of them coming upstairs. He turned to face the door. John came in first and invited the girl in. She looked around the room nervously taking in every detail. She didn't look like she had been on the streets for months. She had new clothes but they weren't borrowed they were brand new. She clearly had money. She was slim but slimmer than most clearly had been eating whilst she lived on the streets despite the money she had probably down the anxiety the way she hugged herself and was very inward didn't look up much. She had black hair that came down past her shoulders slightly and had brown hairs. She had a backpack that she obviously carried her things in. He felt like he knew from somewhere. He couldn't work it out.

"Sherlock…" John started.

"I knew. I heard you talking downstairs. An orphaned girl of 15 who was attacked this morning. Her mother killed and she hadn't…hadn't… hadn't seen her father in 10…10 years. I'm so sorry." Sherlock stood and took his leave.

"Sherlock. Sorry, he's not usually like this." John followed Sherlock out. "What's going on?"

"I know that girl. She is my…my…my daughter." Sherlock struggled to say this.

"You a father." John said confused

Sherlock went back into the room. "You came here with John today in a hope of finding somewhere to stay for a while before you went back to living on the streets or as long as I allow you to stay. You seemed scared when you came in. Scared of me? I now understand why. It's because as soon as John mentioned you knew who I was. Hello Rosie, 10 years. 10 years and there hasn't been one day when I haven't thought about you."

"Sherlock. Do you want to explain?"

"This is Rosie. My child who I haven't seen in 10 years. She was the result of drug-infused night with her mother. Her mother never wanted her to see me. Well because of who I was and personally don't blame. Not only because of drug habit but because of work as a consulting detective didn't want me to harm Rosie. My haven't you grown."

"Hello dad" Rosie said.