Missy woke again at about two in the afternoon and came to the living room to find Sherlock and I sitting in our favorite chairs, discussing a topic Missy knew very well- herself.

"-can't let her stay around too long, John. She'll get in the way of cases. It'll be a mess," Sherlock said.

"Cases?" Missy asked through a yawn.

Sherlock jumped a bit in his seat. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"It's afternoon," the girl said. "I can be awake if I want."

I sprung to my feet, hearing the impatience creeping into her voice. "Alright! What would you like to do today, Missy?"

She rolled her eyes. (Wasn't she a bit young for the eye-rolling stage?) "Well, I'd like to go home."

I nodded, ignoring the part of me that hoped she would stay. "We can bring you home."

"No you can't."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot towards the sky. "You hardly know us. It isn't fair to judge us so quickly."

Missy took a seat on the couch. "I think you're the judgey one here."

"First of all, the word you're looking for is 'judgmental.' Second, I don't like-"

She cut off my husband with a wave of her hand. "What did you mean by cases?"

I smiled at her, though slightly afraid on the inside. "We solve mysteries together- Sherlock and I."

"Like murder and stuff?"

Though a bit taken aback by her first thought upon hearing the word 'mystery,' I shrugged. "Sometimes, yes. But there have been other fun cases! Once, we ended up meeting a glowing rabbit and-"

She shook her head. "That's boring. I want to hear about murder."

I turned to Sherlock for support and slowly sank back into my chair. He nodded, looking from me to Missy and then back again. "Alright, then. Let me tell you all about the Mayfly Man..."

Sherlock ended his story a half hour later. Missy had been completely bewitched by it. She was silent and attentive- better behavior than I expected from her, certainly. All the girl needed was a tale of murder. Who could have guessed?

She narrowed her eyes at my husband. "What if you're lying?"

"I wouldn't be the only one in this house doing so," he responded smartly.

Missy folded her arms and turned her nose up at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. No one's coming to pick you up, Missy. You're on your own."

"Am not."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. "Are too."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm smart."

"Nuh-uh."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as though he was just begging for an argument with the little girl. "Oh, Missy, you'd be surprised." Before she could retort, he turned to me. "John, we'll be making a trip to the toy store today. She'll need a few things if she's going to stay as long as it seems."

"And how long is that?" I asked.

He sighed. "Forever."

I nodded, and before I knew it, we were standing outside Toys R Us. I'd never set foot inside the store before. It always seemed like I'd just be hurting myself further because of the whole can't-have-biological-kids situation. I'd just be teasing myself with things and children I wouldn't ever own.

Of course, that had all changed, and Missy practically sprinted inside the door, Sherlock on her heels, trying to keep her in sight without tripping over his own feet. I couldn't help but smile as I followed them, speed walking to keep up and muttering apologies to the customers around me.

It wasn't quite the magical, picture-perfect toy store that I'd imagined, but it was perfectly fine. There may have been more screaming children than laughing ones, but there were children all the same- and I'd been deprived of those for far too long.

When I turned the corner into one of the toy-stuffed aisles, I found Sherlock and Missy standing together, both crouching to catch their breath. Laughing, I ran up to the pair.

"Are you two okay?" I asked, stifling a giggle.

Missy looked up to me, and although she was frowning, there was a defined glint of happiness in her eyes. "No."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Because all of that running looked like an awful lot of fun."

Sherlock straightened himself (how ironic) and looked at me with a smile playing on the edges of his lips. "Let's just fill a cart. She's a bit too excited here for my liking- and my health."

Missy led the way as we pushed a cart through the twisting maze of the large store. Although we told her not to go overboard on the toys and that we were only here to buy the necessities, I didn't stop her from sneaking a few extra Barbies onto the pile. Besides that, it was all blankets and pillows and kiddy DVDS. A teddy bear here, a soccer ball there, and every once in a while, a snack "for the road."

By the end of the hour we spent in the store Sherlock considered "actual, living hell," we had anything and everything a little girl could possibly need as well as a smile on Missy's face. She had the most adorable smile anyone could imagine- the cutest little baby teeth and eyes that lit up with the rest of her face.

The delightful grin faded the slightest bit when we returned to Baker Street. As we unpacked her things, Missy seemed uneasy- and my husband picked up on it faster than lightning.

As the three of us spread Missy's new flowered comforter over her bed, he glanced over at her just long enough to show slight concern. "You alright, Missy?"

"Fine." Her tone was sharp, and her response was even quicker than Sherlock's usually were. Still, she seemed fine as we added the final touches to her new bedroom- a sweet dollhouse and an elephant nightlight. She gave me a closed-lip smile when I offered to make macaroni for dinner. Better than she'd been that morning, sure, but where had the glowing little girl from the toy store gone?

Missy stayed in her room to play as Sherlock and I left to make dinner. I sighed as I set the pot of water on to boil. "She has her ups and downs, doesn't she?"

Sherlock was sat at the kitchen table, watching. "It's only been a day, John. You can't make full judgments."

"Sherlock, there have been hundreds of times when I've seen you figure out someone's entire life story within ten seconds. How is a day too long?"

"She's different, John. She's a child."

"But what's her story?"

My husband shrugged. "I can't tell."

I looked up from the instructions on the box. "What?"

He shrugged again. "It's difficult to read children. Their opinions are mixed with those of their parents; their heads are full of fluff and innocence. They're all similar, and they're all difficult."

"They're children, Sherlock. The whole point of them is that they're completely and totally simple."

"Too simple. You can't read a book off a blank page, can you? The same thing goes for kids. Too simple to have a story."

"She has one, though! She has a massive story and somehow we're a part of it!"

"John," Sherlock said, standing from his chair, "I can name of every country in any order you tell me to. I can tell you the Periodic Table backwards or forwards. I can fluently speak to you in 53 different languages. I know that your water will boil in three minutes and fifty-eight seconds. I can give you almost any piece of textbook information, but I cannot tell you anything about that girl. I just can't. Whatever tracks she has have been completely covered." He cleared his throat. "I'll be in our room if you need me."

With that, he was gone. It seemed like he was a bit disappointed in himself, but I couldn't blame the guy. Missy was a huge mystery to us- more confusing than a lot of cases we'd solved.

The thing was, Missy wasn't a case to Sherlock. She was a person.

Three minutes and fifty-seven seconds later, the water boiled.