Heyo, people. I am just IN LOVE with BBC Sherlock. It's DEFINITELY the best show I've ever watched. SO I tried to transfer some of this crazy fangirl-ness into a series of little one-shots of life and Baker Street once Rosie is about ten. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I'll enjoy writing them!

Rosie Watson was in a terrible mood.

Her day had been AWFUL. Completely, entirely AWFUL.

To start with, she'd been woken up far too early in the morning because Uncle Sherlock was playing the violin in order to think. She finally fell back asleep only to rise extremely late, make it out the door fifteen minutes after the first bell rang, and get to class dead last. Needless to say she was marked "tardy", making it the third that month.

Mrs. Wentworth, her teacher, was not pleased.

Then, in Science, Mr. Zamboni announced that Rosie's homework report was by no means satisfactory. In front of the whole class!

That wasn't even her own fault. Her subject, the Solar System, was a subject best directed at her dad, John; but he was away in Ireland for the week. Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, was too busy to help. And Uncle Sherlock only muttered something about the Van Buren Supernova and Vermeer, then directed her to Molly Hooper. Molly was too busy cutting up brains to help, so that was that. Rosie had to copy-paste Wikipedia sentences until one o'clock in the morning, which was evident when she couldn't explain a word of her own report.

After utterly failing the Science assignment (she'd have to totally rewrite it that night, along with the new homework they were assigned), Rosie had to sit outside in the fog along with all the others for fifteen minutes during break-time. That was when Zach Toleman called Sherlock a fake, so she punched him in the stomach.

The headmistress was rather annoyed with that.

Immediately after break was Phys Ed. They had to do it in the Gym because it was too cold to go outside; Gabby Telminger accidentally tripped Rosie up in the cloakroom, causing a painful interaction between the floor and Rosie's chin. By the time it was the end of school, it looked like she'd spray-painted her chin purple.

Then, after that total train wreck of a day, Rosie had to trudge all the way home because Mrs. Hudson's car was being repaired and John wasn't there to take her to Baker Street by taxi. Of course, it started to rain on the way back.

Rosie banged open the door to 221B Baker Street, stepping through the entrance in a fit of anger.

"Hello, dear- oh, is it raining?" Mrs. Hudson bustled to her with a smile.

"No," Rosie said sarcastically, "I just danced around under a hose in the middle of November."

"Don't be cheeky, dear, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not cheeky! I just had a bad day."

"We all have bad days, Rosie. Dearie, what happened to your chin?!"

Rosie scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

Mrs. Hudson tutted, but offered to help Rosie out of her sodden coat. She was Rosie's godmother, after all, and often took care of her in little ways.

Rosie declined the help. She didn't feel like owing anyone anything, not today. So after angrily shedding her outer layers, Rosie yanked the band out of her ponytail and stomped upstairs.

Uncle Sherlock was at it AGAIN, still playing the violin. Rosie could hear him from the stairs. He was composing- she'd never heard this tune before.

"Lot of good that rotten violin is." She remarked sullenly, throwing her backpack on the carpet and plopping down on the couch.

"Hello, Rosie. Bad day at school, was it?"

Sherlock still had his back to her, but he'd stopped playing.

"Yeah. See if you can guess why?"

"Guess? I don't 'guess'." He insisted.

"Sure you do."

"Hm. You definitely got a bad score on some kind of work- most likely a report and not a test, since I haven't seen you studying and you wouldn't be as upset if you hadn't prepared. Now, I know you've been asking about the Solar System, which points towards report even more because you know that nobody currently in this house can explain it to you. I'd assume you were late today as well- sorry about that –and I can hear it's raining, so you're probably soaked. From the way you speak, all grumpily, I'd say you had a quarrel with an adult, probably a teacher. And you're not ignoring me so you feel bad for me, suggesting you defended me from somebody and got in trouble for that. You don't sound in pain but I know you, you wouldn't insult somebody as defense, so I'm assuming you punched the person who insulted me in a soft area, most likely the stomach."

He turned around and stared right at Rosie. "And yes, a bruise on the chin. Obviously caused by a flat surface because there are no cuts or grooves in the skin, I'd say you tripped up and fell on a floor towards the middle of the day. Why the middle of the day? If it were earlier it would've started healing, later and it'd still be blue. Now, Rosie, do you really think all that was guessing?"

Rosie, despite having heard Sherlock do this sort of thing very often, was quite impressed.

"All correct." She admitted. "But it's still your fault I failed the Science assignment."

Sherlock raised the violin to his chin again. "You know I don't understand in Astronomy. It was pointless for you to ask in the first place."

Rosie grunted as he started to play again. The music was quite soothing, actually, calming her down a bit. She heaved herself off the couch and went to the fridge to get some ice for her bruised chin.

(Of course, there were some body parts in there. There always were. Rosie tried not to let it bother her, though. Thankfully, it didn't.)