Rosie decided to start crying again almost as soon as they pulled away from the curb and into traffic. She didn't like being confined in the car seat anymore and she made her unhappiness known despite Sherlock's best attempts to calm her. At first, he spoke to her softly telling her stories about his and John's cases. It became obvious she wasn't even trying to listen though as she tossed her head side to side wriggling as she tried to free herself. So next he tried humming one of the songs he frequently played on his violin. She squeezed his hand tighter as she let out a scream around her dummy trying her best to arch her back in the process.
"Can't you calm her," Mycroft complained from where he sat with his nose buried in the newspaper.
"She doesn't like the car seat anymore after being trapped in one for months on end. Even a fool could have made that deduction," Sherlock snapped at him causing Rosie to cry louder.
"Well, she is going to have to get used to sitting in it again," Mycroft stated turning the page of his paper. He made a face at his brother as he turned his attention once more to Rosie.
"Now Rosie, I know you don't like the car seat, but it is only for a short time. I promise that I will take you out as soon as I can but right now you have to remain in it," Sherlock tried explaining logically.
"Bababa," Rosie screamed shaking his hand within hers. A pungent smell rose to meet his nose and he furrowed it.
"She needs a nappy change," Sherlock informed Mycroft realizing part of Rosie's distress.
"It is going to be at least another half an hour before we are anywhere that we can pull over. Can it wait?" Mycroft wondered.
"No," Sherlock answered. Rosie screamed louder as he untangled his hand from hers. She spits out the dummy reaching for him as she screamed at the top of her lungs filling the car with the sounds of her distress. He spoke reassuringly to her as he forced himself to ignore her for a moment so that he could change her. He grabbed Rosie's bag and pulled out a mat. He laid it on the ground at his feet then unbuckled her from the car seat. Rather than laying her directly on the mat, he took her into his arms for a moment. She grabbed his shirt with both her hands as she pushed her face into his chest and cried.
"I'm sorry, Rosie. I am going to have to put you back in the seat in a moment but first let's get you cleaned up," Sherlock told her softly. He laid her down on the mat and changed her nappy. It thankfully wasn't too bad and in no time he had her cleaned up. He made sure the nappy was fully secured before throwing it in Mycroft's direction making sure to land it on his brother's lap.
"Children," Mycroft mumbled. He picked the nappy up off his legs and set it on the floor in front of him.
"There isn't that better, little Watson," Sherlock questioned her as he fixed her clothing before picking her up. Rosie continued to cry as Sherlock moved to put her back in the car seat. She looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as she fought against going back into it. It took a few minutes but despite her fighting, she was soon buckled safely back in and once more crying her unhappiness loudly. Sherlock let her take his hand into hers again and she held on tightly. Sherlock once more began to tell her a story, not paying attention as the cities faded behind them. Rosie goes quiet as she falls into a distressed sleep as exhaustion overtakes her body. Her grip on Sherlock's hand loosens but he doesn't dare move it and risk waking her up again. With her asleep, he finally turns to stare out the window watching as the buildings grow further in between giving into the countryside near their parents. The ride seemed longer than normal with Rosie voicing her opinion most of the way and it was a relief when they finally pulled up to the familiar two-story home that they had grown up in. As they pulled into the driveway, the front door opened, and Mummy came out onto the porch to meet them. Mycroft got out of the car first. Sherlock followed a moment later with Rosie sleeping soundly in his arms.
"And who is this?" Mummy asked in confusion as she looked at the baby in her youngest son's arms.
"John's daughter, Rosie," Mycroft answered.
"And will John also be joining us?" Mummy questioned looking at the car.
"No, Sherlock is tending to young Rosie while John is away," Mycroft answered.
"You should have let me know that she was coming, I would have had daddy set up a cot for her in the spare bedroom," Mummy scolded Mycroft.
"Rosie will be sleeping in my room," Sherlock stated. Sherlock wasn't sure what Mummy saw as she turned to look at him, but her face softened.
"Of course, dear," she answered without argument. She hugged Sherlock with one arm, frowning as she did so. He knew that she could feel the fact that he lost weight again and while she wouldn't comment on it directly, she would try to fatten him up while he was here. He found himself looking forward to the biscuits and pies that she made. Maybe he could get her to make the things with the peas like John would make sometimes. The thought made him sad, and he shifted Rosie into his arms. "Mikey, will you please ask daddy to put the cot in Sherlock's room?"
"Mycroft," Mycroft corrected as he headed into the house. Sherlock followed behind him, letting Mycroft's driver bring in the items from the boot. Sherlock settled into one of the chairs in the living room as he continued to cuddle Rosie close to him. Even in her sleep, she seemed relieved to be out of the car seat and relaxed fully into him with a sigh. He rested his head on top of hers just breathing in her scent as he listened to the familiar noises of the house. He could hear Mycroft and daddy working above him, moving the small family cot into his childhood bedroom. Mummy was already bustling around in the kitchen preparing their supper. It was comforting in a way but also made him long for the walls of Baker Street.
The rest of the afternoon passed slowly as they settled into the home. Presents were deposited under the tree adding to the small collection that his parents already had. His mother tutted about them surprising her with Rosie's visit and how she would have to go back to the shops to buy her a present in the next couple of days. Sherlock tried to insist that wasn't necessary, but his mother wouldn't hear of it. Even if Rosie wouldn't remember her first Christmas, she was going to make sure it was a happy one for her. Sherlock couldn't argue with her as he wanted that for Rosie as well. So, he didn't argue as he was made to eat an early supper followed by dessert. Rosie woke at some point, and it was obvious that she was still grumpy from being forced into the car seat as she clung to him staring at the unfamiliar people. Now that she had an established routine with the same people caring for her for a month, she was also unhappy with strangers. She clung to Sherlock when mummy tried to hold her for the first time and made it clear she wanted no part of daddy's silly voices when he talked to her. Neither Mummy nor daddy was upset by it, knowing that Rosie would come around in the next few days as she spent the holiday with them. As the evening turned into night, Mummy and daddy said their goodnights, leaving Sherlock and Rosie alone with Mycroft in the living room.
"How long?" Sherlock questioned as Mycroft stood up and began to walk towards the stairs leading to their rooms. Mycroft didn't look at Sherlock or ask him to clarify what he meant as he paused in the doorway.
"Two years," Mycroft answered. Sherlock took a deep breath letting it out slowly. It was only fitting that Mycroft would choose a mission that long. He probably didn't take into consideration that Sherlock would feel every day of those two years as he waited to hear the words he dreaded. That John had finally been killed and buried in an unmarked grave. That he would one day have to tell Rosie that her father died in vain and unlike with her mother he couldn't take her to where he was laid to rest. He opened his mouth to tell his brother to piss off, but the words wouldn't come out as his throat felt thick. He swallowed hard not daring to open his mouth again as he listened to Mycroft climb the stairs and the door shut to his room leaving him in silence. His own bed beckoned him to it but instead, he sat holding Rosie. She was awake again and after a bottle, content to just lay in his arms for a long cuddle. Outside the wind began to howl as a storm moved in and he could hear the leaves rustling as branches creaked.
On nights like this as a kid, he would climb into Mycroft's bed. Mycroft would pretend to complain but he always had an extra pillow for Sherlock to use and a book to read. Sherlock remembered cuddling up to Mycroft as he told him stories about Long John Silver, Blackbeard, and Captain Hook. He had wanted to be a pirate when he was young and relished in those stories re-enacting them with his faithful companion, Redbeard. The Irish setter had happily followed him over the grounds until he had grown too old to go on adventures. Sherlock had been devastated when they finally had to put Redbeard down due to his hips giving out from the arthritis and while he still loved dogs, he had never owned another one. Maybe that would change now that he had Rosie.
"Would you like that, Rosie? I could get you a puppy to grow up with and be your companion," Sherlock asked her. Rosie chewed on her teddy's arm as she looked up at him. Yawning, he stood with her in his arms and finally made his way up the stairs. Getting to his room, he wasn't surprised to see that his suitcase had been unpacked and his clothing put away with his pills inside the bedside table. Rosie's cot was on the opposite side of the room and Sherlock laid her in it. She laughed as he then proceeded to pull it until it was next to his bed where it belonged. He changed into his own pajamas and took his nighttime medicine before laying down and beginning to tell her the story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook. He spoke softly until he was sure she was asleep but unable to sleep himself he slipped out of bed again going back downstairs.
His mummy was awake in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She didn't ask him if he wanted one as he took a seat in the chair in the kitchen. He steepled his fingers under his chin and watched on as she took down two mugs making him a cup as well. Picking up both mugs, she brought his over handing it down to him. He took it from her holding it in both hands as she took a seat at the table. She brought her tea to her lips gently blowing on it before taking a sip. He didn't drink his though as he stared into the mug.
"John's not coming back," he finally admitted softly.
"And Rosie?" Mummy inquired.
"Is going to stay with me as long as Mycroft lets her," Sherlock told her. He didn't look up at her as he continued to speak. "I just want to go home but I can't until he finishes renovating Baker Street."
"How long will that be?" Mummy wondered.
"My birthday," Sherlock responded finally taking a sip of his tea.
"Well, you and Rosie are welcome to stay here until then," Mummy offered. Sherlock smiled. They were supposed to return to London right after the new year which would bring Rosie's physical therapy and the return of his own therapy as well as examinations and blood test. He was positive that Mummy could convenience Mycroft that it could wait another week. While he found Mummy's house boring over London, it wasn't like he could work cases right now anyway. Returning to London would just remind him of the life he no longer had and make him long for Baker Street knowing that he was close to it but unable to enter.
"I would like that," he finally replied after a long minute of silence.
"Then it is settled. I will talk to Mycroft in the morning," Mummy reassured him. He hummed his agreement as he settled back to drink his tea. He barely finished half the cup before Rosie began to cry, so he took the rest up with him to his room. Rosie lifted her head from the mattress as he entered the room and stared up at him.
"Ba Ba," she whimpered.
"I'm here now," he reassured her. He didn't pick her up as he set his tea on the bedside table and then sat down on the bed. Laying a hand on her back, he gently began to pat it as he picked up the story once more as Peter Pan took Wendy to Neverland for the first time to meet the lost boys and Captain Hook.