Sherlock knew that there would come a day when Maggie Holmes would come home with a boy that she "loved". It was simple biology; Maggie would some day seek to procreate as all creatures do, but Sherlock would have none of what she brought home. Of course, he did not have such high standards as to say to any boy that he would kill him if he hurt Maggie, but he did want the boy she brought home to be brilliant enough to be some semblance of a match for his daughter.

The first boy she brought home was a horrific disaster. Molly had been excited, obviously, but Sherlock had remained seated in his favorite armchair as he waited for dinner to be ready and for his daughter to arrive with her "boyfriend". The minute she walked in the door with him, Sherlock took one glance, and immediately knew that he was not going to be staying for dinner.

"Dad," Maggie started to say to her father, nervous that he would do his thing and scare the boy off, "this is-" she didn't even get to introduce him before Sherlock interrupted.

"Somebody who was clearly hoping to shag you tonight, judging by the tin of mints and packet of condoms in his pockets," he said in one breath. "Next." Both Molly and Maggie were mortified by Sherlock's blanket statement, but it did turn out that that boy in particular truly did have not so pure intentions towards Maggie. He didn't stay near her very long. The next two boys weren't any better, and the two after that had been such unbelievable idiots that Sherlock was convinced they were Anderson's sons.

Now, it was time for boy number six. Maggie had assured her father that he was different than all the others, and Sherlock had agreed to meet him, but they would be doing it at the Diogenes Club with Mycroft. Maggie had begged her father to leave Uncle Mycroft out of it, but Sherlock had been very clear; either the boy met with the both of them, or he would not be allowed to meet with Maggie at all. So, begrudgingly, Maggie had made the arrangements.

So Sherlock was sitting next to his brother, across from a single empty chair that remained solely for Maggie's prospect. Between them sat a coffee table, and a kettle of tea on a tray. The boy was scheduled to arrive any moment, and sure enough, he did. He stood a little under six feet tall, and he wore a dark leather jacket over his grey t-shirt. His jeans were dark blue, and his sneakers, Sherlock could tell, had been worn quite a bit, though judging by the young man's relaxed posture, they were obviously comfortable enough for him. He stood casually in front of the two brothers, his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting for somebody to say something. Ultimately, Sherlock gestured to the chair across from him and Mycroft. The boy sat down, straight, yet still comfortable.

"Mr. Holmes," he said, addressing Sherlock, "My name is Jack Hunter, and I'm here to ask permission to date your daughter." Jack spoke with a clean American accent, which made Sherlock question just what he was doing here in Britain that would keep him here long enough to date his daughter.

Sherlock looked the boy over once more, and saw a confident air about him. His clothes were freshly laundered, meaning that he had access to a decent means of washing them. His confidence was noted, but Sherlock saw something in his eyes, almost as if there was something hidden behind them. Sherlock dismissed it immediately as a trick of the light.

"And just what would a young American be doing here in England that would warrant your dating my daughter?" Sherlock asked plainly.

"Actually, I'm working at a leading software firm right now. I've got a steady job that will provide me with stable income for quite some time now. If you'd like, I can give you the number of my supervisor and you can give him a call."

The American was fairly open, that meant that he didn't fear if Sherlock called his supervisor or not. "That won't be necessary," Sherlock replied. They continued to make conversation, and Sherlock continued to make deductions off of what he saw and heard. Ultimately, he could see no real reason as to why this Jack could not date his daughter. While he hadn't changed much in the years since he married Molly, he had grown a bit more lenient in some of his decisions, and Molly had pleaded with him to be forgiving over what boy Maggie brought over.

Finally, after several minutes of chatting, Sherlock looked at his brother, who silently acknowledged that he had come to the same conclusions that his younger brother had reached about the American: he was worthy.

Sherlock looked back to the young man. "You came seeking permission to date my daughter. Why?"

"Well, sir, quite frankly, I believe it to be a matter of honor." Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You see, Mr. Holmes, I was adopted by a Japanese family as an infant, and was taught that honor was one of the most important things in a person's life. So, when I decided that I wanted to get to know Maggie better, I thought that I would first approach you and acquire permission."

Sherlock leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. "In that case, young man, you have my permission to date Maggie, though there will be conditions."

"Of course, Sir. Thank you." It was at that moment that the door opened and another young man in his late teens enter, wearing baggy pants and a loose tank top, chewing bubble gum, and speaking in a crude cockney accent.

“Hey, I’m ‘ere to talk to a Mista ‘Olmes about ‘is dau’ter.”