Mycroft Holmes would have never considered himself to be one who enjoyed dancing. But one of the things he'd learned about his new wife, it was that she loved music, and so before they'd ever begun conversations about what their wedding reception would include, he knew that there was no getting around having music and dancing. It wasn't that he didn't know how to dance—at least when it came to the more traditional ballroom dances such as the waltz and foxtrot—it was just that, up until this point, he had never found it enjoyable.

Yet, as he stood on the dance floor with his new wife, suddenly the idea of dancing didn't seem as tedious as it had previously. He found that if he kept his eyes on her, and was hand in hand with her, he could bear just about anything—even dancing while the rest of their family and friends observed. Just as he had done for John and his now deceased wife, Sherlock had composed a song especially for his brother and his new wife.

As the couple moved fluidly around the dance floor, Mycroft smiled down at his wife and whispered, "You've been practicing."

"I wanted this moment to be perfect."

"I'm dancing with you—it doesn't get much more perfect than that, love. I presume you practiced with Sherlock—or John?" She nodded. "Something else I shall have to thank them for later," he added then.

"It's going to be terribly painful for you, isn't it?" she said with a giggle. He smiled back, but they grew quiet as they listened to Sherlock's piece, danced, and gazed into each other's eyes.

Once the song had ended, they both approached Sherlock and Sophia pulled him into her embrace. "Sherlock, that was beautiful. Thank you so much."

"I understand I also have you to thank for Sophia's continued improvement at the waltz?" Mycroft questioned.

"Yes, well, it seems that both Holmes brothers lose their resolve when Sophia makes a request," Sherlock said with a small smile to Sophia.

"Then could I ask, on her behalf, for you to stay out of trouble for the next two weeks while we are away?" Mycroft gave his brother the classic glare that he reserved for him.

That night, as Mycroft and Sophia entered the Terrace Suite at The Langham, Mycroft couldn't miss the gasp from his wife.

"Oh, Mycroft, it's beautiful," she said as she pulled him through the suite to seemingly investigate every corner. "Oh, look at the view!" she exclaimed as she pulled him out onto the terrace. "It's gorgeous."

He smiled, his eyes on the view of his wife rather than the city. "Yes, you are."

She blushed, smiling wide and glancing up at him. "Thank you. For everything. This is amazing. I feel like a princess—staying at the Langham."

"There's more where this came from, love. This is merely a 'pit stop' as you'd call it. And, if you'd do me the honor, then there will also be more traveling in your future—if you can bear the idea of joining me for the occasional work trip—it might involve boring dinners and balls, but I think you'd handle yourself quite well."

Her eyes lit up. "You'd really want me to come with you? Am I allowed?"

"Once we get your citizenship taken care of I can also look into increasing your security clearance to allow for a bit more freedom, and it's not like you'd be involved in meetings with me—just the social aspects of my work. How does that sound to you?"

"It would be an honor to attend such events with you, Mycroft."

He smiled. "Very good. Shall we check out the rest of the suite?"

Sherlock did stay on his best behavior the next two weeks, and Anthea managed to keep all calls away from Mycroft until they'd returned to the country. Their two weeks of travel through New Zealand had been every bit of what they had both hoped—they made the most of every day and night, determined to enjoy every moment alone that they had. They both knew that upon their return to London life would return to 'normal' with both of them knee deep in work.

On the return flight, Sophia had a rather large stuffed animal in her lap.

Mycroft shook his head as the woman attempted to adjust herself in her seat. "I think you might have purchased the largest stuffed kiwi toy in all of New Zealand, my dear."

"Only the best for Rosie."

"We could have had it shipped back home; you know. Or ordered one on-line."

"It's not the same! Online it would have probably come from China or something."

"You do realize that this one probably came from China to New Zealand."

She shook her head. "Nope. I checked the tag. Made in New Zealand."

He smirked. "Alright, I'll concede that point. Still, Rosie can't even read yet."

"But we'll know, and John will know. And he is a good friend—to us, and to Sherlock. And Rosie is probably as close to—" She stopped herself short, biting her lip.

"Sophia," Mycroft said quietly, concern in his voice as he reached over and gently forced her to release one hand from the stuffed animal for her to hold. She didn't say anything and looked down at the brown fur of the animal. "Sophia," he said again, still gentle. "We'd talked about this—decided that we were both of an age and profession that children weren't meant for us."

She gave him a small smile, and he could see a twinge of sadness in her eyes. "I know, and I still feel that way. Our honeymoon—all the…" she blushed. "Well, you know—it just… it got me thinking a little about it. I really am content and happy, I think. I'm certain I don't want to attempt to have children at my age." She frowned at herself then. "I'm sorry, I'm being very confusing. My mind is a little mixed up about it all."

He pulled her hand up and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "No need to apologize. I don't dislike the idea of you thinking about it. I think perhaps I'd be concerned if the thought hadn't at least passed through your mind. Perhaps—maybe there are other things we can do." He frowned then. "I don't mean to discount what I know it would mean to be a mother yourself, but since we'd discussed that it wasn't in our future. But we could perhaps help with Rosie on occasion—if you wanted."

Sophia's eyes went wide. "You mean like babysit?" He shrugged. "Mycroft—I never thought you'd be open to the idea of having Rosie running under foot."

He swallowed and shifted a bit uncomfortably about his forthcoming admission, "Perhaps you aren't only female to have created a soft spot in my heart."

Sophia smiled wide and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. "That is so sweet."

Upon returning home from their honeymoon, it was straight to Mycroft's residence. She'd already packed her things up in her house before their wedding, and everything but essentials had been moved over. The last few things Anthea had seen to having moved over after having worked closely with Sophia so that she knew what were the most important things of her own that she'd want on display at the new home. When they'd returned, the home was already feeling like 'theirs' as opposed to just 'his' which Sophia deeply appreciated since she was feeling a bit anxious about how Mycroft might handle having her constantly around now.

Such anxiety didn't go unnoticed by Mycroft. After two nights of missing dinner with her because of late meetings, it had also been clear to him that she was getting a little nervous about that as well. She always acted as if it was no problem, and indeed they had discussed that his job could and would have him working late many nights. It wasn't that she hadn't known what she was getting into, but he had a feeling perhaps it wasn't quite as 'okay' as she'd made it seem.

And then one night he'd intentionally made sure he was home on time—but this time a huge case came up at Scotland Yard and it was her turn to be working late. On the fourth night of them not having had dinner together, Mycroft stepped into the sitting room and saw the large stuffed kiwi still resting in one of the chairs. They hadn't even had time to see Sherlock, John, and Rosie since they'd returned. Both had 'hit the ground running' as it were. That night, as most nights before, the first they'd seen of each other since that morning had been when climbing into bed beside each other.

He spooned her from behind. "How was your day?" he whispered in her ear before placing a gentle kiss there.

"Exhausting. But we did it. Solved the case."

"That's wonderful. Will you be home by dinner tomorrow, then?"

"Unless something comes up, yes."

"Good. I intend to be as well. I've missed you."

He felt and heard her breath catch in her throat. "Y-you have?"

He frowned and tugged at her to encourage her to turn to face him. Once she was, he continued. "Of course, I did. You thought I wouldn't?"

She sighed, seeming to be disappointed in herself, not him. "It's ridiculous. I've gone and gotten all self-conscious. I was worried that perhaps you were regretting having me invading your space around here. You've lived alone for so long and suddenly to have a wife around. I try my best to not leave messes and upset things around here, but—"

"Sophia," he said calmly. She looked up to him, eyes swirling with the emotions that had gotten away with themselves as she explained herself. "I love you. I love having you here. Is it different? Of course, it is. But I love it. I love every moment I get to wake up beside you, get dressed for work beside you—having you tie my tie and straighten my suit. Having morning tea with you and—though it's been a bit lacking lately—having dinner with you. And while we both knew our jobs would keep us some nights—I think it's bothered both of us that we've missed seeing each other these past four nights. We spend every waking and sleeping moment with each other for the most magnificent two weeks of my life and now we're back to the normal grind. We can't change our jobs, they're a part of who we are, but I do promise to you that I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't forget how much I love you—how much I need you and want you here."

"Oh, Mycroft," she said before giving him a deep kiss. When they paused, she took a deep cleansing breath and felt the weight off her shoulders. "This is just the beginning. We're both going to mess up, and our jobs are going to make a mess of things sometimes. But if we both just keep trying, I think we're going to be just fine."

"Agreed."

The next night when Sophia got home from work and hung her rain coat on the coat rack at the front door, the first thing that alerted her to something being different in the house was a shrill cry—"Uncle Mykie!" it yelled out.

Her eyes grew wide, a smile grew on her face, and she quickly ran into the sitting room to find Mycroft standing in the middle with Rosie hanging upside down from his arms.

Sherlock sat in a chair nearby, and John was on the sofa currently chuckling at his daughter and her 'uncle' Mycroft.

"Rosamund Mary Watson, what is your uncle doing to you!" Sophia called out as she approached. All Rosie could manage was a giggle as Sophia came up and took the girl in her arms, flipping her right side up.

"Missed you, Soph," Rosie said in her cute toddler accent.

"Aw, I missed you, too, Rosie!" Sophia said as she and Rosie shared a 'nose-kiss', as they called them, with each other.

John was up and came over. "A belated welcome home, Sophia. We all missed you," he said as he gave the woman a side hug, her other arm being occupied by his daughter.

"Yes," Sherlock said as he stood and gave the same measure of affection. "Seems Scotland Yard has you too preoccupied for a visit to your favorite brother-in-law?"

She looked down bashfully. "Yeah, sorry about that. We've both been a bit busy." She gasped in shock as she felt a kiss on her forehead from Sherlock.

"Nonsense. You needn't apologize. I'm just stating a fact. My brother seems to have done an adequate job making up for the absence."

"Has he?" Sophia asked, looking over questioningly at her husband as John took Rosie out of her arms.

Mycroft smiled and gave her a look of hope that she'd appreciate his gesture. "I invited Sherlock, John, and Rosie to join us for dinner this evening. I've ordered in, so no worries on what we'll have to prepare."

Her eyes lit up again. "That's wonderful! I'll just go get changed. I hate wearing my work clothes once I've gotten home."

"I never understood the need for such things," Mycroft said, not to be condescending, but just because he'd always simply worn the same suit and tie all day long and been comfortable enough.

"Of course, you wouldn't, Mycroft. I think you were born in a suit and tie," John Watson spoke up.

"I'll be back down in just a few," Sophia said as she bounced out of the room and up the stairs toward she and Mycroft's bedroom.

A few moments later as she was changing into a jumper and blue jeans, Mycroft entered. "I hope it really was okay for me to invite them."

She smiled as she adjusted the jumper around her waist, coming to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's more than okay. It was brilliant. Feels like a bit of normal in the midst of all this new. Did you give Rosie her kiwi yet?"

He shook his head. "No, I hid it in the closet under the stairs. I wouldn't dare do that without you here—it was your idea, after all."

"Good. I can't wait to see her face," Sophia said with a grin.

"And I can't wait to see John's. I'm sure he's going to love having to cart that giant thing home with them."

She snickered. "Perks of being aunt and uncle. Spoil them and send them home."

"Then next time we shall get something particularly loud and annoying to stay at Uncle Sherlock's house, I do believe," Mycroft said with a smirk.