NOTE: Inspired by Series 3 episode 3. My version of how Sherlock got clean. I started out to write a short fic and it got long of its own accord. Special guest appearance by a young Greg Lestrade! WARNINGS: brief mentions of drugs; angst; bits of fluff.
Mycroft Holmes loved the German language. It had a wonderful growling quality to it that he found quite amusing, and it hadn't taken him more than an hour to learn it. What he didn't like was the German ambassador who was currently sitting in his office, boring him with some supposedly important matter that was nowhere near being important enough to keep him from home at nearly 10p.m.
As he sat there, attempting to seem interested and not respond sarcastically to the annoying man sitting across from him, out of the corner of his eye, Mycroft saw someone waving their hand at him. He briefly looked over to see his new assistant waving at him. It was so hard to find good help these days. Then again, he'd only had her a few days and hadn't even bothered to figure out her first name yet. Last names were just fine.
Sending a frown in her direction, Mycroft used the remote on his desk to close the curtains over the window, offering an apology for the interruption to the ambassador. His assistant, however, was not to be deterred and began knocking on the door. Mycroft pressed a button on the intercom. "Russell, I'm in a meeting. Please cease and desist."
The door opened and Mycroft bit back a curse. "Sir, there's a phone call."
"I don't care; can you not see I'm with the ambassador?"
"Sir, I really think you need to take this call," the assistant responded. "It's from home."
If Rose was calling him again because she couldn't find her favorite pajamas or the shoes she wanted to wear tomorrow, there was going to be one very sorry ten year old in his house when he got home, Mycroft thought. He picked up his phone as Russell transferred the call and opened his mouth to start scolding but couldn't get a syllable out. It was in fact his sister and she sounded hysterical.
"My! My I don't know what to do! Sherlock won't wake up! He fell over and he's shaking and spitting up. He won't wake up My!" Rose screamed and sobbed.
"Oh my god," Mycroft said, unable to censor himself.
"Mycroft! What do I do?!"
"I'm going to call you on my mobile, I'll call you right back. I'm leaving right this minute and coming home. Just stay there and keep trying to wake him up," Mycroft instructed. He turned on his mobile and made a silent vow never to turn it off again, then hung up the landline and called Rose back. She was no less upset than she'd been a moment ago.
"Russell, send an ambulance and officers to my home. Call them now," Mycroft instructed as he ran through the office. "I'm coming to you as fast as I can Rose. You're being such a good girl, being so helpful for Sherlock and I. Everything will be alright." He only hoped that was the case.
The traffic was unbearable, or at least it felt so to Mycroft. Never had a trek across London taken so long, he was quite sure of it, but he kept talking to Rose, promising he was almost there. Suddenly, the line went dead.
If it was even possible, Rose was more hysterical when the ambulance arrived. She dropped the phone and ran to the door to open it up. The paramedics rushed by her to where Sherlock was lying on the living room floor. They didn't miss the needle near the chair he'd fallen out of while seizing and directed an officer to collect it as they started chest compressions.
Rose could only stand there, watching it all in horror, until a man stepped in front of her and blocked the view. It was an officer, who knelt down in front of her. "Hi sweetheart," he said soothingly. "My name is Greg. What's your name?"
"Rose Holmes. That's my brother. Is he going to die?"
The little girl looked absolutely terrified and young officer Greg Lestrade's heart went out to her. "The paramedics are going to take very good care of him, I promise. Is there anyone else at home?"
She shook her head. "My isn't here yet."
"Let's find you some shoes and a jacket then, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you while they take care of your brother. Can you show me where that's at? Please? And who is 'My'?" Greg hoped he could distract her and get her out of the way while they hauled her brother out of the house on a stretcher.
"He's my other brother, Mycroft. I called him and he said he would come," Rose whimpered.
He stood up and took her hand, squeezing it gently, letting her lead him down the hallway. "Oh yes, here we are," he murmured, opening the closet door. Rose wouldn't let go of his hand and Greg could feel her trembling. With his free hand he pulled out a coat and shoes that could only belong to a little girl and sat her on the floor, helping her get into her shoes.
"I want My, where is he? He said he was coming," she whimpered.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon sweetheart. But until he gets here, I'm going to take care of you. Remember? I promise, I won't let anything happen to you." He could hear the stretcher on its way out the door.
"How old are you Rose?" Greg asked. His only response was a resurgence of her sobs. Without a second of hesitation, he lifted her up in his arms. "Hold on to me, alright? Let's go see if 'My' is here yet."
She pressed her face against his neck, wrapped her arms and legs around him as best she could, and let Greg carry her outside. The ambulance doors slammed shut and the paramedics jumped in to head to hospital.
"Want to sit in my car? I'll let you play with the lights," he offered, rubbing Rose's back. Greg could feel her shake her head no. "Alright, should we just sit on the steps then?" This time she nodded in the affirmative.
"You're a brave girl, you know that? Very, very brave," Greg praised as he moved to sit on the front steps with her. He moved her to sit on his lap so she could watch for whoever she was waiting for. If someone wasn't here soon though, he'd have to call children's services.
Within just a few moments, however, a car pulled into the driveway at a high rate of speed and a man practically leaped out of it.
"MY!" Rose screamed. Getting up from the officer's lap, she ran for him. Greg watched as the man scooped her up and held her close.
"Shhh, shhh, you're going to get sick Poppet," Mycroft soothed. "And that won't make anything better, will it, if you have an upset stomach. I know you're scared, but I'm here now."
"I called and you didn't answer and I had to call the lady and I think Sherlock is dying, My, we have to help him," Rose babbled.
"The paramedics are doing that. I'm going to go check on him in a little bit, I'm sure he'll be just fine," Mycroft assured her, hoping that would be true. He nodded at the young officer who was standing near the door, but couldn't take his attention from Rose just yet.
"I need to go to hospital and sit with Sherlock so he isn't frightened," Mycroft said after a few moments. "Would you like to go spend the night with Louise?"
"I wanna go with you!"
"Poppet, you can't. Please don't argue with me," he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. "I need you to do as I say right now, it's very important Rose. I'm going to put you down, and you need to go inside. Get Teddy and your backpack and some clothes for tomorrow while I call Louise's mum. I'll be right here waiting," Mycroft promised as he put her down. He let out a sigh of relief when Rose ran off to her room to get her things.
"Thank you for staying with her. I'm Mycroft Holmes," he said, extending his hand to the officer.
"Greg Lestrade. Not a problem at all. She was very brave."
"Is it alright if I make a call and then speak with you further?" Mycroft asked. When the officer nodded, he took out his mobile and dialed the home phone of Rose's best friend.
"Louise's mummy is on her way to pick you up," he told Rose when she reappeared. "Do you want to go outside and wait for her?"
"Will you come home, My? Will Sherlock come home? I don't want to be alone," Rose whispered.
"I won't ever leave you, I promise. I'm going to come get you from school tomorrow, would you like that? And we'll go out and have a treat, just us. Anywhere you'd like," he offered. "Be my brave girl a bit longer, and wait for Mrs. Gardner so I can talk to the officer."
Rose turned her attention to the officer and gave him a little wave. "Bye Greg."
"Bye sweetheart," Greg replied, giving her a smile.
The two men watched as she went out the front door and sat on the steps waiting for her friend's mum. As soon as Mycroft finished with the officer, he joined her, pulling her onto his lap.
"Is he going to die too?" Rose whispered. "I don't want him too."
"The doctors will take very good care of him," Mycroft assured her. "Don't think about things like that, alright? It will only make you more upset."
"Will you call me later? And tell me he's okay?"
Mycroft nodded and held her tighter. "Yes, I'll do that."
"And you're sure you'll come home?" Rose looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear.
It was a heartbreaking look, and Mycroft wished more than anything he could take that away. "Of course," he assured her. "I promise, Poppet. You won't be alone; I'll always be here to take care of you. I promised you that when you were born and that hasn't changed, nor will it ever."
Mycroft was still sitting in the hospital when his mobile rang at 8:30am the following morning. He answered it with a tired, "Yes?"
"Mycroft? It's Eleanor Gardner," a woman said.
"Is Rose alright?"
There was a brief pause. "Well, yes and no. Yes, she's well but she won't go to school. She's insisting I bring her in to see you and Sherlock."
"Wailing, weeping and gnashing of teeth, I suppose?"
Eleanor laughed. "Just so! I don't know what to do; she's got her heart set on it."
"Put her on please, I'll try to talk sense into her," Mycroft responded with a sigh.
"My! I'm coming in to see you and Sherlock!" Rose exclaimed before he could get a word out.
"No, you are not," he responded sternly. "You will go to school and I will pick you up and we'll have a treat. Just like we discussed last night."
"Mycroft, no! No! If you don't let Mrs. Gardner bring me in I'll come in a cab all by myself and then make you pay the cabbie when I get there," Rose stated with all the vehemence the ten-year-old could muster.
That was all London needed, Mycroft thought; ten-year-old Rosenwyn Holmes loose. Loose and not safe. Damn she was such a clever thing; it was quite hard to keep ahead of her sometimes. "Oh no you will not, Rosenwyn Aramantha. I will spank you so hard you will never sit again for the rest of your life if you get in a taxi and come here by yourself." There was a brief pause and he smiled, believing he had won.
"After careful consideration, I've decided I don't care," Rose announced. "Can Mrs. Gardner bring me? I mean it Mycroft, I will come in a cab and I don't care what you do about it."
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as he'd like to think it was all bravado on his sister's part, he knew her well enough to know she'd do just as she threatened, no matter what he threatened in return.
"Put Mrs. Gardner back on the phone you horribly disobedient girl," Mycroft responded.
"Mycroft is gonna say I can go!" Rose called out in a sing-song voice as she ran to find her friend's mum, still holding the handset to her ear. "He's going to tell you that, because he doesn't want me to take a cab because he's very afraid I'll get kidnapped and he's told me that lots of times, whenever he doesn't want me to do something that I really want to do."
By the time Mrs. Gardner got back on the phone, Mycroft was laughing helplessly. "Dear god, what did I ever do to deserve her? She's awful."
Eleanor laughed, well used to the strange expressions of affection the Holmes family had. "You're blessed and you know it Mycroft Holmes."
"Just bring that ridiculous little girl in, if you'd be so kind," Mycroft requested.
"Of course. I'm always happy to help. She's a lovely little thing."
"Oh, do you really think so? Might I convince you to keep her then? For say… forever?"
The woman laughed again. "We'll drop Louise at school and come over after," she promised.
"Hooray! I get to come!" Rose shouted in the background. "I won!"
Mycroft was standing outside Sherlock's hospital room, arms crossed over his chest, when Rose and Eleanor arrived. "Thank you, Eleanor. I'll take it from here," he assured the woman. He watched Eleanor give Rose a hug and kiss before leaving.
"You are a very naughty girl Rosenwyn. Manipulation? Already? You're ten years old. You do realize that, don't you?" Mycroft scolded, looking down at her with a stern look.
Rose raised her chin defiantly. "Don't care. I want to see Sherlock."
"And I want to smack you but the nurses would surely frown on that," he replied. "I think a talk about obedience is in order when we get home, don't you?"
"You're awful Mycroft, just awful," Rose pouted.
"I do try, my dear. Now, go in and see Sherlock. Don't pounce on him though, you'll hurt him," Mycroft cautioned.
She nodded before opening the door and sticking her head inside the room. "Sherlock? You awake?"
"There's my girl," Sherlock said, giving her a smile. "Come here."
"I'm going to kiss you all better like Mummy, alright?"
He nodded and waved her over. While she didn't pounce, Rose got onto his bed just the same and kissed his cheeks.
Sherlock grinned at her. "I feel better already."
Completely ignoring the medical equipment he was attached to, Rose snuggled up to him and sighed happily when he hugged her close.
"Mycroft said you were very frightened last night," Sherlock said quietly.
She nodded. "You're better now right? For real?"
"I am better now," he assured her. "And I'm very sorry you were frightened. I didn't mean for that to happen. You were such a brave girl, do you know that? My brave girl. I'm very proud of you, for calling to get me help."
Rose beamed at him. "Love you, you know," she said. "You can't go. We need you, Mycroft and me. Especially me, because you're so much better at telling stories. Mycroft never does the voices."
Sherlock laughed. "So you want to keep me around for story time. Is that it? That's all I'm good for?"
"Pretty much!"
"What did we ever do to deserve you?" Sherlock asked, tugging on one of her braids.
"I don't know, but I'm lovely and you know it," Rose told him.
"Says who?" He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Me! And I should know. Since I'm the subject."
"You're an impossible child Rose, do you realize that?" Mycroft asked, taking a seat.
Rose grinned. "Yep! You tell me at least once a day. I love you too Mycroft!"
"She's dangerous, that's what she is. She'd have the world leaders over for tea and solve all the problems before they'd even realize she'd done it," Sherlock decided.
"I think I'll book a trip to the moon should Rose become the caretaker of the free world," Mycroft quipped.
With a grin, Sherlock handed her one of his pillows, which Rose promptly threw at Mycroft. It missed him by a significant margin, but the look of utter irritation on his face sent her into a peal of giggles.
"I'll be back tomorrow, Sherlock," Mycroft promised when it was time to leave. The tone of his voice made Sherlock distinctly uncomfortable but he couldn't put his finger on why.
"I'll come back too! Promise!" Rose called out.
"Oh no you won't, young lady. You're going to school tomorrow and if I find out you leave the school before you're dismissed, we're going to take a trip to my office at home and it won't be a fun trip," Mycroft warned her.
"Oh fine, I'll go," she agreed. "But I'm not happy about it My. Not even one little bit."
"I can live with that," he said, reaching for her hand. "Just see to it you don't get any ridiculous ideas in that head of yours tomorrow to do otherwise. I'll hire a minder for you at school if you don't promise you'll be good and stay there."
Rose sighed heavily. "Alright My, I promise."
The following morning, after dropping Rose off at school, Mycroft did in fact return to the hospital with a small overnight bag.
"Mycroft," Sherlock acknowledged when he walked in. "What's that?"
With an even more solemn look and air then he usually possessed the eldest Holmes crossed the room and placed the bag onto Sherlock's hospital bed. "I've taken the liberty of packing you a few things. You'll also find a set of keys to a new flat I've rented for you, along with the address."
"You what? Mycroft, what are you on about?"
"I've also hired removal men. They packed your belongings from the house and have taken them to your new flat," Mycroft continued. "Along with some furnishings I purchased on your behalf. When they discharge you today, a car will be waiting for you."
Sherlock just stared at his brother. Surely he couldn't be serious. It almost sounded like he was being thrown out of the house!
"I've also changed the locks on the house, about an hour ago. Don't look at me like that Sherlock," Mycroft said, sounding very tired. "You had to know this was coming. I trusted you, I needed you. Rose needed you. And you were doing cocaine with her in the house. I don't even want to think about how many other times you've likely done that."
"You can't throw me out of the house Mycroft. It's my home too, and she's my sister too."
Sherlock looked so stricken, it almost took Mycroft back. "She is," he replied. "She is your sister too, our sister, who lost her mother ten weeks ago. Ten weeks, Sherlock. I'm certain you have a reason for your behavior, and I'm well aware you aren't a hardcore addict, but I can't allow this to happen again. Rose doesn't have anyone but us Sherlock, and this incident has forced me to do something I never thought I'd have to; choose between you. I have no choice at all but to choose Rose, a little girl in desperate need of some stability in her life."
"She was asleep, she'd been in bed for an hour," Sherlock said quietly, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "This is going to hurt her Mycroft. Do you realize it?"
"And children are always known to stay in bed for the entire night once you put them there," Mycroft responded before pausing to rub his forehead. "It's quite likely to devastate her, I'm aware. But I have to protect her. So for the time being, you are not welcome at home, nor do you live there any longer, nor will your keys work. I have set you up in a decent flat with everything you could possibly need." Mycroft's voice was quiet, but tight, indicating how much this was hurting him.
"There has to be some other option."
"There isn't."
"I'll go to rehab."
Mycroft nodded. "Yes, you will. You'll complete a thirty day program and I won't allow you to see Rose until that's finished. And there will be drug tests, when you want to see her, for six months. Provided all that comes back clean, you'll be welcome back in the house and can see Rose all you'd like without my prior approval or further drug tests. You left me with no choice. You're making me hurt her Sherlock. I hope you understand that."
Sherlock's head was bowed and he was carefully regulating his breathing to avoid crying like a child. "Can I speak with her?" He finally asked. "If I call you first, can I speak with her?" He couldn't possibly begin to imagine a life without Rose in it for even a day, let alone thirty.
"Yes, I'll allow that, provided we speak first." That way Mycroft could be certain Sherlock didn't sound high when he called.
"I suppose that's it then? You can leave now. In fact I'd very much like you to leave," Sherlock decided.
The hurt Mycroft could hear in Sherlock's voice nearly broke his resolve. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I truly am."
He nodded before responding in a dull tone, "Tell her I love her and that I'm sorry."
Mycroft nodded. "I will. Call anytime Sherlock, I mean that. I want to help and support you as best I can. I hope you understand, in time, why I had to do this." With one last look at Sherlock, he turned and left the hospital room, praying his brother would wait until he was gone to give in to the tears he'd heard in the younger man's voice.
It went worse than Mycroft had expected it to. Rose was nearly inconsolable, crying just as hard now as she had when their mother passed. Surely it would be less painful for someone to just remove his heart than have to sit here and try to comfort her, knowing he was the cause of all this distress.
"Make him come back Mycroft! He has to come back!" Rose sobbed. "I want Sherlock, I want him now! I don't want you! I hate you!"
"Rose, please try to understand. Sherlock is sick and he cannot come home until he's better," he responded. It was a lot to ask of a ten year old, to do without the brother she'd hardly spent much time apart from, and Mycroft was aware of it. "Please Rose. I know this is hard," he added. The amount of emotion creeping into his voice just then was disconcerting, but Mycroft chose not to dwell on it.
"NO you don't!" She shouted, adding a good kick to his shin. "You never care about anybody! All you care about is work and now you don't care about Sherlock and I don't care about you if you don't care about Sherlock! Nowhere can be better for him than here with us! I hate you Mycroft, I HATE YOU!" Letting out a heavy sob, Rose turned and ran from the sitting room.
Mycroft knew she didn't mean that at all, and even knew that she knew that, and would recognize that fact later on when she calmed down. That did not, however, mean that her words didn't hurt and they hurt far more than he'd anticipated. He was torn on what to do: let her run off and give her the space she needed, so long as she remained in the house, or go after her. After a moment's deliberation he decided it would be best to allow Rose the space she needed. She'd surely come back so they could make up.
Supper was always served at six in the evening, day in and day out at the Holmes household. There was always at least one family member around to eat at that time, so they'd never bothered to tell Cook any differently. It just so happened that today there were two family members at home; Mycroft and Rose.
Mycroft showed up at precisely six and waited patiently for his sister to arrive. The more time that passed, however, the less patient he became. Surely Rose was hungry by now. She'd not had a snack after school and he hadn't seen or heard her since she'd run off. When seven came and went, Mycroft began searching the house for her. "If she ran off and left this house, I'll strangle her when I get my hands on her," he grumbled, beginning the search in her bedroom.
An hour later he'd checked every possibly place in the house that Rose could be, including the extensive dust-filled attic. Deciding he'd better search the yard and garage before he called the police, Mycroft put on his coat and was about to step outside when he realized he had not in fact searched everywhere in the house. He had not searched Sherlock's room, despite passing by the closed door multiple times.
Mycroft headed for Sherlock's bedroom and slowly opened the door, looked inside, and felt his heart sink. If there was anyone in the world who could remind Mycroft he was human and in possession of all the emotions that came with being one, including broken hearts and bursts of sentiment, it was his baby sister. At this moment, she was the exact picture of heartbreak and he could feel tears stinging his eyes.
Rose was wearing one of Sherlock's button ups, which she must have retrieved from the laundry room, snuggled into his bed, fast asleep. He could tell she had been crying, her face still streaked from her tears. Her Teddy, which she could never sleep without, was nowhere in sight and Rose was hugging one of Sherlock's pillows instead. She looked so tiny in Sherlock's big bed. Granted, Rose was tiny, as far as the proper height and weight standards for her age group went, but she seemed exceptionally little in the bed. Little, alone, and very sad.
He stood in the doorway and leaned his head against the doorframe for a moment. "I'm just trying to do the right thing," he whispered. What he wouldn't give just then for their mother to be with them, even if she did call him 'Mike' of all things. She would have known precisely what to say and do. If only he could think of what it was she might do for little Rose.
Then it came to him and Mycroft fully entered the room and went quietly to the bed. Slipping his shoes off first, he lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around Rose. Oh so carefully he pulled her gently towards him until she was snuggled against his chest as he lay on his side. Holding on to her protectively he willed his stomach to stop grumbling about the lack of an evening meal and closed his eyes.
A few hours later, Mycroft awoke as Rose began to stir. He watched the confusion blossom over her face, then the recognition of where she was and why dawn in its place. Her stomach growled loudly and he couldn't help but smile just a little.
"Hi," Rose whispered, rolling over to face him.
"Hello dear," he whispered back.
"Why?"
Mycroft frowned a bit. "Why what? Complete sentences help."
Rose's eyes closed almost completely, until she was looking at him just barely through her long, dark eyelashes. "Why are you here? I said I hated you." Her voice cracked as she spoke.
"Because I love you." It wasn't easy for Mycroft to say those words aloud. He was fairly certain he'd never come right out and said them to Sherlock, but he said them to Rose now and again. Or if he was truthful about it, he told her on a fairly regular basis. Yet each time it took him by surprise, hearing those words come out of his mouth so effortlessly. "You looked very sad and lonely in here, but I didn't want to wake you up."
Quiet tears began sliding down her cheeks and Rose attempted to roll away from him.
"Oh no," Mycroft said firmly, pulling her back. "Why?"
"Complete sentences," she whispered, trying to sound cheeky but failing miserably.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I was horrible to you. I said I hated you My."
Mycroft brushed a few tears away with the pad of his thumb. "I know you didn't mean that Rose. Everything will be alright, I promise. Please don't cry anymore."
Rose opened her mouth to respond but was rudely interrupted as her stomach growled very loudly. It made her pause and smile just a bit.
"Sounds like you could use some dinner. I could as well," Mycroft admitted. "Should we go see what we can find?"
She nodded and got up from the bed and waited for Mycroft to do the same. When he did, Rose threw her arms around him and held on tight.
"Such sentiment," Mycroft grumbled in response. When Rose looked up at him, however, there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He picked her up and carried her out of Sherlock's room in search of some dinner.
"I feel like a bad parent, letting you eat an entire meal at nearly midnight," Mycroft admitted as they sat down at the small kitchen table.
"That's alright, since you're not my parent. You're Mycroft. Different rules for big brothers," Rose pointed out. "And who decides what is or isn't a bad parent anyway?"
"Authors, apparently. Child experts, psychology professionals, mothers with obscenely large numbers of children. I read all the books."
"Did they help?" she asked curiously.
Mycroft shook his head. "Not really. Here and there something was a bit helpful or caught my attention to try, but by and large they were a waste of time. Far too much sentiment."
Rose smiled at him. "So if they didn't help, why'd you read them in the first place?"
"Can you even begin to imagine the terror that was Sherlock as a child? I was bound and determined that you would be different. That I'd try to make you as normal as I possibly could, given the dysfunction that runs rampant in our family. I wanted you to be normal and happy, I knew Father would be busy and I knew Mother couldn't take care of you all on her own," Mycroft explained.
"You drove Mummy crazy didn't you?"
"Rose, don't talk when your mouth is full. It's disgusting. Clearly I've failed in teaching you any sort of ladylike manners," he scolded lightly.
"Being a lady is boring, My," Rose pointed out, adding a good scowl for emphasis.
"Being a lady will take you places in life Rosenwyn."
"Yep," she agreed, making the 'p' pop. "Boring places."
Mycroft's eyebrow rose. "Close your mouth and eat properly or I'll take your plate away."
Rolling her eyes, Rose chewed and swallowed before asking the question once again.
"Now, clarify your question. Are you asking if I drove Mother crazy as a child or if I drove Mother crazy when you were born?"
Rose scrunched up her nose as she considered the matter. "Both!"
He shook his head, giving her a little bit of a smile. "I will have you know I was a positively delightful child." Mycroft frowned when Rose responded by laughing long and hard. "And in response to the other question, I was… zealous in my efforts to make things just right for you. But I believe, overall, that Mother appreciated my efforts. Finish supper and then it's time for one story and bed."
One story turned into two and two stories turned into three until finally Mycroft realized what the issue was: she didn't want to be alone. Rose had been clingy since their mother had passed, and had spent several nights in Sherlock's room, when she was feeling particularly vulnerable. Today, it was worse than usual which wasn't surprising.
"No, My, don't go! One more story, please!" Rose was dangerously close to tears and gave him a most pitiful and pleading look.
"Shhh," Mycroft soothed. He already had her on his lap and easily wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "It's alright Poppet. There's no need for tears."
"Don't leave me My, please. I don't want you to leave me too. I wanna stay with you," Rose whimpered.
As a general rule, Mycroft didn't let her sleep in his room. Many of the parenting books he'd read had discouraged that, but he'd always been the only one in the house concerned about setting a bad precedent. 'What if she never sleeps in her room again?' he'd often asked their mother. She'd just tutted at him, smiled, and ignored him. Sherlock had followed suit. Rose was a big girl, ten years old, and surely could stay in her own room. Mycroft opened his mouth to tell her so, but things didn't go as planned.
"Then I suppose, just this once, I'll let you," he told her quietly. "I'm not going to leave you Rose; not ever. But if it will make you feel more secure, just this once, I'll let you sleep in my room."
Damn his traitorous mouth! Really though, how he could refuse that look of anxiety and vulnerability on her face?
"Get Teddy," Mycroft instructed, indicating the bear. It was a little one, dressed in a pink sleeper with a white collar that he'd purchased for her the day she was born. Rose never slept without it. When Rose picked up the beloved bear, he stood with her in his arms and crossed the room to shut off the light.
"Under the covers with you," he instructed when they entered his room. Mycroft set her gently on the bed before heading for a chest of drawers and taking out his own nightclothes. "I'll be right back." He left the room briefly to change and returned to find Rose under the covers just as he'd asked.
"Have everything you need?" Mycroft checked as he got into bed. The only answer he received was a murmur and slight nod. "Goodnight Poppet." He pulled her close, holding her protectively with one arm, and kissed her cheek.
The thirty days Sherlock attended a rehab program crawled by excruciatingly slowly for the Holmes family. He missed Rose, she missed him in return, and Mycroft felt terrible for making them both miserable and wished it was easier to do the right thing.
Mycroft thought briefly about hiring a nanny or after school minder for Rose, just until Sherlock completed the program. Eleanor Gardner, and her husband Andrew, wouldn't hear of it when they got wind of it from Rose and insisted on helping in any way they could. Their little Louise and Rose were such good friends, in school and dance together, and Rose was already like a second child to them. Mycroft accepted their kind offer to keep an eye on her.
Finally, however, the day had come for a much needed reunion. Sherlock's drug test had come back clean and Mycroft had alerted both Eleanor and the school that Sherlock would be collecting Rose when school let out. Mycroft almost wished that he could be there to see it, even with all the sentiment that was likely to be practically oozing out of the two of them. Unfortunately, the free world didn't safeguard itself.
Rose came bounding out of school, hand in hand with Louise, the two little girls chattering and looking for Louise's mum. As they looked, she spotted Sherlock waiting off to the side, trying to avoid all the running and screaming children.
"SHERLOCK!" she screamed before taking off at a run towards him.
Sherlock turned in the direction of her voice and went down on one knee to catch her as Rose threw herself into his arms and practically strangled him in her enthusiasm to hug him tightly. "There's my sweet girl," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.
"Are you better? Are you coming home? Does Mycroft know you're here? You can't ever go away Sherlock, never again!" Rose chattered, continuing to hold on tight.
Sherlock chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I am better and Mycroft said I could come get you today and bring you home." He laughed even harder when she squealed happily and kissed his cheeks. "Just a bit happy to see me, hm?"
Sherlock stood up with her in his arms, letting her keep her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his midsection. "You look reasonably well. Mycroft been taking good care of you? Though if the state of your hair is any indication, I think I ought to be worried. That braid of yours is horribly crooked," he teased. Rose laughed and the sound of it was certainly the best thing he'd ever heard, Sherlock was sure of it.
"Mycroft can't braid very well," she giggled. "He tried, but you do better. Mrs. Gardner was tutting about it this morning but didn't have time to fix it. I'm never gonna let go of you, ok? Just never."
"Sounds like a fine plan, since I don't intend to let go of you either," he admitted, kissing her cheek. "Want to go home?"
"Can we bake biscuits? Mycroft never bakes biscuits with me."
"Mycroft's an awful brother, isn't he? Just rubbish." Sherlock gave her a wink and a smile, which grew even wider when she laughed again. "Let's go home."
It was just after eleven that night when Mycroft finally made it home, feeling exhausted and a bit worried. He hadn't heard anything from Rose or Sherlock, so surely everything was alright, but he couldn't help being worried all the same. He closed the front door quietly behind him and locked it securely before heading towards the stairs to go check on Rose. He stopped, however, as he passed the sitting room.
The telly was on, tuned to the channel that aired old films and a pan of biscuits was sitting on the coffee table. Sherlock was fast asleep, holding his sleeping sister tightly in his arms. Rose's face was smeared with chocolate chips and Sherlock had flour in his hair. Mycroft could only imagine the state of the kitchen if these two were anything to go by! Shaking his head, he went to the hall closet and retrieved a blanket and covered his siblings with it before going up to bed.