Remember when I used to be able to write? I seem to have lost my muse almost completely and I'm so sorry. I can only put it down to lack of sleep so hopefully, soon, I'll be able to catch up. Anyway, here's a little something I've been dabbling in for a few weeks. I'm not sure whether to continue it, so input would be lovely. Thanks xx

"What shall we call her, darling?" Mrs Holmes ran a hand through Sherlock's thick curls, watching with a smile as the six year old peered into the small cage, his fingers tightly gripping the bars. Inside the cage, her knees pressed up to her chest, the five year old girl stared at the other side of the room, avoiding looking at her new 'owners'.
"Lady.."
"Ha. No.." the voice of Mycroft Holmes filled the room, as the thirteen year old leaned against the door frame, watching the sight before him.
"Why not?" Sherlock pouted, turning to look at his brother.
"Don't give me that look, Sherlock. Lady is a title for nobility, and that.. thing is no such thing."
Sherlock frowned as he assessed what his brother was saying, before nodding.
"Well what's her actual name?" he asked, looking up at his mother.
"I.. don't know, darling, I didn't ask."
"Sherlock, you can't let her keep her actual name.." Mycroft rolled his eyes. Honestly, his brother was an amateur when it came to owning another person.
"I know, but I want to know."
"Sherlock, you don't NEED to know.."
"Shut up, Mycroft. She's MY pet.."
Mycroft rolled his eyes, sitting down on the sofa.
"She's mine, and I want to know her name"
"My name.." the girl growled, looking up at Sherlock finally. "is Molly"

"But I don't want to.." Molly protested as her father pulled her towards the large front door, his thick fist grabbing tightly hold to the pale arm of the five year old.
"You don't have a choice, Molly.. I'm sorry.." her father stopped pulling her and knelt down to look into her face. He sighed, biting his lower lip as he struggled to find the words to explain to his daughter why she was being given away.
"Mummy and I can't afford to look after you any more.. Mr and Mrs Holmes will pay good money for you.. and they'll look after you. You'll be much better off. Now come on.."

Her little outburst had cost her, Mycroft had seen to that. With his father away, Mycroft had taken it upon himself to be the man of the house, and his father had always taught him that any insolence in their slaves, or 'pets' as they sold it to Sherlock, must be dealt with immediately. Gripping the young girl by the hair, he'd dragged her from her cage and into the punishment room, administering 40 lashes with the 'training whip' before locking her in solitary confinement. She had cried, as any five year old would, until she had fallen asleep.

"What's your name?" a soft voice reached her ears as she stirred in the early hours of the morning. "You're new, right?"
The young girl blinked open her eyes and looked at the girl beside her. She was a bit older than Molly, probably about eight or nine, with lovely thick dark hair. Molly nodded in response to her second question, before answering the first.
"I'm Molly.." she said softly. The other girl frowned.
"They've not given you a name yet?"
"No... what's yours?"
"I'm Anthea.. But Mycroft calls me Kitten.. I'm his.. 'pet'." she smiled, picking up a flimsy piece of material that she'd placed on the ground when she'd entered the room. "He wanted me to bring you your new clothes.. It's not much, but it's warmer than nothing.."
Anthea's fingers lifted the material over Molly's head, and the younger girl slipped her arms in to the holes. It looked like a sack, really, but it was much warmer now.

"She needs to go to a training school." Mycroft announced over breakfast, and Sherlock looked up at his brother with wide eyes.
"Why?"
"Because she's wild, Sherlock.. She's not been raised to properly be your pet. Six weeks, that's all she'll need. And then you'll have her back"
"If I say yes.." Sherlock pondered as he looked at Mycroft, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly "Can I call her Molly?"
Mycroft paused for a moment, before shrugging. Training school would strip away every part of Molly that was Molly, he saw no reason why Sherlock couldn't keep the name. She was his pet after all.