Mycroft was in his private office when he took the call. It was from a blocked number, which wasn't completely unusual in his line of work. What was unusual was the voice on the other end. American male, aged 18-24, stressed… really stressed, and crying. "I need to speak to Mr. Mycroft Holmes right away." the man practically sobbed. Mycroft took an annoyed breath, "speaking" he said as he leaned back in his chair moving his eyes lazily to the ceiling. Don't I have secretaries for this kind of thing, he thought to himself. "Sir, they are going to kill her, she can't take much more of this, she's going to die." Still staring at the ceiling, "I think you may have the wrong Holmes, can I give you his number?" "NO, forgive me sir, but you don't understand, It's Katie, they keep running these tests on her and they are going to kill her." Mycroft froze. "Who?" he asked even though he saw her face clear as day. The man on the other side of the phone dropped his head and sighed, Mycroft could hear the side of his face rub the receiver. The disappointment and regret was clear in his voice, "You know she said she was worse than dead to you -that she never existed, said you wouldn't save her if she was poisoned and you had the antidote in you palm. I didn't believe her, I've heard of your reputation of course even all the way over here." Mycroft closed his eyes, a look of pain resting on his usual bored face, "I asked you a question, who is Katie" Mycroft braced for what he knew was coming. "Kathleen Louise Holmes, Iceman, your daughter."
It was a relatively quiet morning in 221B, quiet for Sherlock anyway. It has been 8 months since his harrowing experience with his sister and her final problem. John is in the process of moving back in, with Rosie of course. Sherlock had been asking, near to begging for months. The flat was too quiet without him, and he had only successfully won John over by moving his makeshift lab out of the kitchen and to the room downstairs and cleaning and baby proofing the rest of the flat. "I don't know Sherlock, she's still just a baby, she makes a mess and a lot of noise, I don't know how you will feel about this when we are all up at 3am with her screaming bloody murder, there's no off switch you know." John had the blonde headed toddler on his hip walking around the clean flat. "All the more reason for you to not do it yourself." Sherlock said from the doorframe. Hearing a quiet giggle Sherlock shook the memory of the conversation from his head and focused his eyes on the source of the noise. Sitting on the carpet in front of him was the baby without an off switch. Not that she was much of a baby anymore. Rosie smiled at Sherlock, happy to have gained his attention and crawled toward him, babbling she reached a chubby little hand towards his leg and pulled herself to her knees in front of his chair. Gripping onto a pant leg she grunted and squinted her eyebrows together looking oh so much like her father until she managed to pull herself to her feet. "Well, hello there little one. When did you learn how to do that?" He smiled at the child standing between his knees. Sherlock was on babysitting duty while John packed the home. John had only agreed to move back in if Sherlock consented to watching her while he went through the house and sorted what to keep and what to get rid of. Sherlock felt like it was a test to see if he could handle being around a baby for extended periods of time. Normally he would have nothing to do with this, but this wasn't any baby, this was Rosie. She smiled again and reached both hands towards Sherlock, grunting and opening and closing her fist. Sherlock snickered and reached down, lifting the toddler into his lap and rubbing her back gently. She settled into the crook of his chest, he moved his hand to brush the blonde curls out of her eyes. "What do you want to do today, hmm? Surely there is some trouble that we can get into while daddy is gone." She squirmed on his lap pushing against his chest until she was far enough back to be eye to eye. Sherlock couldn't help but admire the beautiful child in front of him. Had you told him a year ago that he would be in his flat with a giggling toddler in his lap and there was not a gun at his head he would have probably insulted you in a varying number of ways and had Myrcroft ruin your credit score. But here he was watching the light from the window dance across her cheeks and rest in her eyelashes, he knew that there was not anything he wouldn't do for her. Sherlock was a fairly protective man when it came to his friends and family, though he didn't really know that until John came into his life. But this was different. This wasn't 'hurt my friend and I will hurt you' love, this was 'hurt her and I will set the world on fire' love. Sherlock had never felt anything like it and wasn't sure he would ever feel it again. "Well, Watson?" he bounced his legs slightly, "what do we want to do today?" She giggled, pulling her fingers from her mouth, and threw her body into his chest with a surprising amount of force for such a little thing, hugging her arms around his neck. Rosie was a very affectionate child to those she was comfortable with. She seemed to have a new level of affection when Sherlock was around though. It was much to everyone's amusement that the one person who didn't want to be touched was wrapped around the finger of a baby that was happiest reaching or clinging to him. "Take her to the park Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson's voice traveled up the stairs and over the baby gate. "It's a beautiful day and both of you could use some fresh air." Sherlock thought about it a moment, coming up with nothing better. He stood up, scooping Rosie up with him and walked to John's room to fetch her shoes. "Park it is Watson!"
Passing Mrs. Hudson in the hall she gave Rosie a kiss on the cheek and Sherlock a pat on the arm. "The best thing you did was convince him to move back home you know, even Rosie has been in higher spirits." Sherlock smiled and shifted her in his arms. "I'm happy they are here too." Stepping out of the door and turning towards the park that was only a few mins away Sherlock took a deep breath and felt his muscles relax slightly in the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. A sunny summer day in London was to be treasured indeed.
John sighed as he opened their closet… his closet. Running a hand over his tired face he mentally contemplated putting this off another day. He had been productive today, sorted the Kitchen and the Den called the local donation center and arranged for the items and furniture he no longer had a use for to be picked up the following afternoon, but those rooms had been shared spaces -not as intimate, not only hers. I'll just grab mine, take it back to the flat and sort the rest tomorrow he decided. He knew he would regret not doing it when he laid down tonight but he couldn't force himself to do it. Not right now. Grabbing an armful of his hanging clothes he stuffed them, hanger and all, into the box on the mattress. He had just grabbed the last armful when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Folding the flaps of the box in he reached for his phone, it was a text from Mrs. Hudson. Swiping the message open he saw she had sent him a picture of Sherlock and Rosie. They were in the hall, Rosie in his arms and holding onto his shoulder, head thrown back in laughter and a warm smile on Sherlock's face. John couldn't help but grin at the sight. Who would have known that the great Sherlock Holmes would have gone soft for a child. Just when he was about to put the phone back in his pocket another msg popped up under the photo. "I suggested they go to the park and enjoy this weather, you'll find them there if you were coming back anytime soon." John moved his eyes back to the picture. Happiness. He could see it shining in both of their eyes. He couldn't find himself to join, not today, not surrounded by his dead wife's things. He typed a quick reply "I would hate to ruin their fun. I'll check in later." Send. Tossing his phone to the empty dresser top next to him he bent to the bottom of the closet to start grabbing his shoes.
Mycroft rolled down the window of the car as Sherlock and the Watson child approached the sidewalk to cross to the park on the other side of the car. "Get in Sherlock." He watched his brother roll his eyes. "Go away, I am busy." He moved past the car. Mycroft sighed, opening the door and stepping out. "This is important, brother mine, we need to talk." Mycroft didn't have to see Sherlock's face to know he rolled his eyes again. "I implore you to look up the difference between need and want Mycroft." walking towards the entrance of the park. "Sherlock please." the slight wobble in Mycroft's voice forced Sherlock to a halt and with a sigh he turned on his heel. "Fine, but Rosie wants to swing so you'll have to talk there." Mycroft shut the door of the car and walked toward the pair "Then swing she shall."
Sherlock carefully put the child in the baby swing and snapped the belt around her waist. Her chunky legs stuck out the bottom and she kicked her feet in excitement. Mycroft observed the gentle smile that crossed his brother's face as he talked to the cooing baby. How much he had changed in the last year. How much a child changes things. He couldn't help but feel the irony of the situation. He was about to tell his brother of the child he abandoned in front of the child his brother had adopted. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, whatever it is, it has you more shook than Eurus did, so spit it out. Might as well get it over with", he gave the Watson child a small push. Mycroft adjusted his grip on his cane and locked eyes with his brother. "Her name is Kathleen."