Time went by quickly as he continued to recover from the drugs that had coursed through his system as he cared for Rosie. He was still struggling to recover and his hands shook more than before but the tremor was minute compared to in the beginning and therefore easier to ignore. He still needed help to shave and sometimes had to restart the bottle he was making as his random tremors made him drop the bag as he tried to pour it. It was more of a nuisance at this point than anything else and one that he hoped silently would go away completely or it would make his scientific experiments more complex as well as playing the violin.
Rosie had another check-up and while she was still doing better in her weight she was still behind the other children her age in development. Plans were made to start physical therapy after Christmas for her to help her get back on track. He was also given specific stretches he could help her do on her legs and advised to continue tummy time with her to encourage strengthening her core muscles over the holidays. Sherlock downloaded several books, engrossing himself in anything he could find to assist her in meeting her milestones. Mycroft watched on from the sidelines knowing that Sherlock was doing anything to stop himself from dealing with his own problems and thinking about John. His last session with Doctor Parker had been a disaster from the start and had gone on for almost two hours as he argued with her. He had tried desperately to make her understand how John had helped him become a better person and while she had agreed with him she didn't let him stray from the fact that John had been abusive towards him since returning. The session was finally ended by Sherlock storming from the room. While he was happy with the progress Sherlock was making, the depression that his brother was falling into was also clear to Mycroft. Rather than let it fester, he suggested a trip to their parent's house for the holidays as they sat eating breakfast one morning.
"I didn't think you would want them to know about Rosie before you decided that I was allowed to keep her," Sherlock stated as soon as the words were out of Mycroft's mouth.
"They are already aware of Rosie and Mary's death. They would understand you taking care of her while John is indisposed," Mycroft responded calmly.
"You mean sent away to his death," Sherlock snapped. Mycroft opened his mouth to respond but Sherlock didn't want to hear it. He stood drawing Rosie's attention to himself. "Tell Uncle Mycroft goodbye." He told the little girl as he signed the words.
Mycroft sighed as Sherlock made the sign for "Devil" in place of his name. It was the sign that Sherlock started using at a young age to refer to him after they had a falling out when Mycroft left for university for the first time. Back then Sherlock signed more often, having learned sign language at a young age when the doctor's feared he would be mute forever. While he understood French, and English fluently, it had been the signs that first gave him a voice and one that he returned to upon a meltdown. It was still one that he used to his advantage when necessary. And it was when Mycroft walked in one day to find Sherlock teaching Rosie signs that he realized that Sherlock wasn't going to grow bored as he thought. Even after a month, Sherlock still seemed fascinated with the little girl. He even cared for her enough to teach her the simple signs that she could use to communicate what she wanted or needed. She had already picked up the simple ones and he worked with her every day to expand that vocabulary.
Rosie was proving to be an intelligent little girl and with Sherlock adopting her, she would have her choice of the best schools, the best daycares, and even a foot into the door of whatever career she decided to pursue. Mycroft had even put together a list of daycares that he had vetted for Sherlock to place her at while he worked since he was still instant that he wasn't going to use the nanny after he returned to Baker Street. The file itself was now sitting on Mycroft's desk in the library untouched as Sherlock did his best to ignore it along with the fact that his body wasn't going to allow him to ever return to the level of work he once enjoyed.
"Have you already spoken to Mummy and Daddy about us visiting for Christmas?" Sherlock wondered as he paused in the doorway of the dining room.
"I have," Mycroft answered.
"Then I suppose I should get a bag ready," Sherlock replied before starting on his way again. Mycroft watched him go as he made a mental note to talk to Doctor Parker and Doctor Harris about adjusting Sherlock's medications, especially the anti-depressant he was taking. The fact that Sherlock was willingly taking the pill every day was concerning enough to Mycroft as Sherlock had always refused to in the past. Yet, when Mycroft checked Sherlock's pills when he went on his morning walks, he found it was being taken with the rest of them and while Sherlock could have easily been binning it, Mycroft didn't believe that was the case. Sherlock seemed to want to get better for Rosie's sake. Just like her father she had given him a reason to try to be a better man. Only this time Mycroft actually believed it might happen.
Rising from the dining room table, he headed towards his office. He had a lot to accomplish in the next two days if he wanted to even take one day off for the holidays, let alone a week. At least this time he wouldn't have to worry about being drugged on Christmas and having to call in reinforcements before spending the next week fighting on Sherlock's behalf to keep him alive and out of prison. He was going to end up being bored in a matter of hours. Best to take work with him after all, he decided.