type: four-shot I guess, sorry I had this idea and couldn't not do it

Pairing: johnlock, adopted!reader

Warnings: none

The adoptive services warned him it would happen.

He knew it would happen eventually, but it didn't keep it from hurting.

It all started when he saw a little web hidden behind a stack of books, before he could fully read it she was blocking it in an instant.

She was searching for her biological father, and John didn't like it. He sat down on the couch, she was finishing up in the bathroom from her shower. "Sherlock I don't like it." He grumbled, leaning into the detective's side, his cup of tea in hand.

"It's a natural instinct to want to know where we come from." Sherlock didn't look up from his book.

"I know but-" before he couldn't finish his rant she appeared in the living room, a pair of sweats and a t shirt that was too big slung over her small form. Her hair wrapped up in a towel. "Everything alright?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Everything's fine." Sherlock remarked, turning the page.

"Right." She clearly knew everything wasn't but didn't say a word, she walked and plopped down on John's chair. She picked up her own book, and they rested in a peaceful silence.

At least until there was a knock at the door, the knock that changed everything.

"You didn't tell me we were having company!" She squealed, racing out of the room. John rolled his eyes, slowly standing and setting his cup down on the side table. He opened the door, feeling his blood run cold at what he found there.

His grip on the door tightened, narrowing his eyes. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He growled, Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Standing, he approached the door from behind, his reaction very similar to John.

"Sorry to interrupt whatever is going on in there." Jim cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, very different from his usual smoothness. He seemed... Nervous.

"What do you want?" John hissed.

"I came for my daughter." He stood up straighter, looking them both in the eye.

John could feel the color drain from his face. "Your daughter isn't here."

"Oh, you do have a (first name) Brook in here, don't you?" He questioned bitterly.

Sherlock seemed to realize what he was hinting at and pushed past John. "You're the one who left her. You don't get to take her back." He growled, his baritone lowering.

"Look Dr. Watson." He said boredly. "You already lost one daughter, and your wife. I lost my wife and now I'm losing my daughter and You WILL NOT KEEP HER FROM ME."

He seemed to gain back a bit of his self control for a moment, Sherlock used his arm to keep John from beating the living shit out of Jim.

"Where's Sebastian?" Sherlock questioned.

"He doesn't know." Jim looked at the floor, his hands in his pockets. "We'll see what she thinks." Sherlock stood up straight, "(your name)." He called.

"Yeah?" She soon came out, her hair dried and she'd replaced the sweats with jeans.

"Do you know a Richard Brook?" He questioned, looking at her, his form covering the door and preventing her from seeing Jim.

John turned and looked at her, her eyes widened. "Yes. He's my father." She said quietly, as if her voice had decided to stop working.

"Well he's here." John sighed and she looked up at him, "Really?!" She bounced, "wait no! I'm a mess!" She tried to smooth her hair and pants, Sherlock slowly moved aside and revealed Jim.

She looked at Jim and stepped back, his chest clearly bandaged under his shirt.

"No." She whispered. "You tried to kill me! You tried to kill them!" She backed away and Him stepped inside, daring Sherlock or John to stop him.

"I didn't know who you were then." Jim's tone had changed to a softer one neither John or Sherlock had ever heard before.

"You can't be! My father is Richard Brook not-" it all seemed to click. 

She looked down at the floor, fists clenching.

"I'm sorry." Jim looked at her, his hands awkwardly in his pockets, words sounded foreign in his mouth.

"Why wasn't I good enough?" The words escaped in a soft, broke whisper. Suddenly she wasn't the fifteen year old standing here a few moments ago, she was the small broken girl they'd found at a crime scene. It broke John's heart.

"It had nothing to do with you. Your mother and I had a fall out, nothing more nothing less."

"Why are you here?" She looked up at him, "tell me honestly why you're here."

"I found the identity of my daughter." He scratched the back of his neck, "You are not my father." She growled.

"Yes I-"

"No. We may share some blood but I will never, ever acknowledge you has family. " she hissed, jabbing a finger in John and Sherlock's direction. "These men are my fathers. They've raised me and took me and never once held a gun to my chest." She poked him in the chest, causing him to step back slightly. "If you wanted me maybe you would of paid a visit." She hissed, "do what you do best Jim Moriarty, get out. Leave me." A dark look glimmered in her eyes, everyone seemed to be a bit stunned at the sudden ferociousness. Jim stood up straighter and fixed his jacket. "Fine."  He turned to find Sherlock standing by it, holding it wide open. "Bye bye."

Jim stomped out without another word, Sherlock closed the door. "Good riddance."

John looked over at (y/n). She'd stayed the same spot, seeming to be completely frozen. She looked at John, "I'm sorry." She whispered, "I had no idea that he was- I mean I never imagined that-" she rambled, tears threatening to spill. John didn't say a word, he just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, returning the embrace.

A/N

Ayo so I had this idea and couldn't not use it.

I think I'll be writing Holmes Games next since it seemed to get the most votes. Voting is still open and as I write I slowly remove ideas from the list.

I don't have much to say.

And to all those people asking why I hate my selfies, here's my answer:

IMMA CALL YALL MY AGENTS

love ya agents

Bye bye for now