The shrill ringing of a phone tore Greg out of his semi-sleep memories. With a sigh, he picked up his phone. It was a text "Emergency! Come to Bakerstreet at once – SH" Greg's heart skipped a beat. He jumped up at once, grabbing his coat. He was already running down the street, trying to catch a cab when his phone rang again. "John says my previous message might be misleading. Please do not bring the entire police force of London again. - SH"
Sherlock opened the door of his flat, fully dressed in coat and scarf, pressing a pile of papers in Greg's hands. "We'll be gone for approximately 3 days, 2 hours and 35 minutes, maybe 2 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes, depending on the tie the client wears tomorrow. Everything you need to know is in here, if you have any questions, don't ask me. Good day!" He was out the door in seconds, jumping down the stairs, phone in hand. John stopped to thank Greg for agreeing to babysit on short notice before following Sherlock in equal hurry. Greg stared after them in shock. "You bastard..:" he murmured, grinning despite himself.
Little Rosie was asleep in her crib, toys were scattered all around the flat, lying between Sherlock's chemistry supplies, a severed hand was floating in the sink and a teddybear was sitting in the microwave. Greg sat down on Sherlock's armchair and skipped through the papers he had been given. It was a collection of step-by-step tutorials on feeding and dressing the child, plus a list of warnings including "Rosamund is very sticky – it seems to be a common thing with babies." And "Don't let her touch the tea-cups, Mrs Hudson gets very mad.". Shaking his head, smiling, he laid the papers on the table and ran his fingers through his short, grey hair. He was sure the next days would be very interesting and not nearly as relaxing as he had hoped his vacation from work would be.
His phone rang again, Mycroft's name on the display. Greg tensed, his heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he thought about him.
"Good morning." He said calmly.
"Uhm yes Good morning Gregory…"
"Everything okay?"
"I just – I felt like I owe you an apology. For yesterday."
"It's alright. I just wish you would tell me what you're so worried about."
"I can't. Not yet. … Any plans for today? I – er – could try to make it up to you…"
Greg laughed softly.
"You could, in fact, make it up to me. I could use some help babysitting."
"Babysitting? Absolutely not!"
"C'me on, she's just a child, how bad can it be?"
Mrs. Hudson was entered her flat at Bakerstreet in a very good mood. Her afternoon had been a most pleasant one, having a nice cup of tea with her friends, flirting with some men, though they always seemed a bit intimidated by her. She wondered if she should stop mentioning the drug cartel and the handcuffs. But where was the fun in that? The landlady danced through her kitchen, preparing the evening tea.
As she took off her headphones, however, the loud wailing of a child and the clanking of metal threatened to darken her mood. "Sherlock Holmes, if you've let that child near the china again…!" She climbed up the stairs, pushed through the door and burst into screeching laughter.
The elegantly dressed Mycroft Holmes crouched behind the leather armchair, covered in the remnants of Rosie's lunch, a look of utter horror on his face as he watched the child, who was gleefully chewing his tie, tear a piece of paper to bits with the utmost fascination.
Meanwhile, Inspector Lestrade was desperately trying to repair what was left of the music box, oblivious of the fact that the screwdriver he was using had previously been stabbed inside a severed hand to exclude it as a possible murder weapon.
"What on earth is going on?" Mrs. Hudson asked, after finally catching her breath. Mycroft helplessly pointed at Rosie. "She wouldn't stop crying, it was terrible!" Greg held up the broken music box, adding "The instructions said this was the only way to calm her when she was upset and she pushed it down the stairs!" The Landlady shook her head, picking up the child, who finally let go of the expensive tie, since the sparkling jewellery seemed much more entertaining. "Now you two, really, you act like you've never seen a child before. Can manage a government and all of London's police force but a little child brings you to your knees? I can go and keep her busy while you clean up this mess, but I really have other things to do!" She gathered up some toys and a soother and took Rosie to her own flat, singing merrily.
"I'd much rather deal with a murderous psychopath again." Mycroft murmured. "At least they don't eat my suit." Greg grinned "Really? I wouldn't be surprised." He dropped the music box in the trashcan with a defeated sigh. "Just not sure how I'm gonna survive the next three days. We can hardly expect the Landlady to help us out." "I'd pay her!" "Don't you dare! She'd have you out on the streets before you even touch your check book." "Well…" Mycroft sighed. "I'm afraid there's only one solution, then." He took out his phone, frowning, and made a call.
"Mykie!" Mrs. Holmes shouted gleefully, as she and her husband entered the flat.
"Really, you should've called us sooner, why didn't Sherlock ask us in the first place? It's been ages since we've seen little Rosie – oh hello sweetie, there you are!" She ran towards the little girl, arms outstretched, and snatched her with such confidence that told everyone in the room the baby would most likely not leave her side for the following days. Her husband stood by the door quietly, padding his son's shoulder and shaking Greg's hand. "Not that it's my business but what's a Detective doing babysitting a child if I may ask?" "Uh well, Molly Hooper is on a holiday herself so I guess Sherlock just called the two other people he in the city he can trust." Mr. Holmes nodded and walked off to join his wife in worshipping the small, sticky creature that had now probably confirmed Mycroft's absolute terror of small children, though Greg couldn't really blame him.
The Holmes parents joyfully bounced little Rosie around and the two men sank onto the couch with a sigh. "This really wasn't my idea of making it up to you." "I know, but I have the entire week of and John's ought to come back soon. I hope." Without thinking, Mycroft softly ran his fingers over Greg's hand. He blushed and looked up to his parents, who only had eyes for the giggling child. "You'd think they'd never seen a child in their life" he groaned with an eye roll. "I remember how absolutely obsessed they were with Sherlock when he was born. I never quite understood, he wasn't nearly as clever as me." "Oi Myc" his mother said "you were just jealous of his sweet curls!" Greg laughed softly. "I do have the sweetest pictures, Gregory, you should see them sometime!" She smiled. Greg looked at her in surprise. Mycroft tensed. "what?" Mrs Holmes asked, rocking baby Rosie softly while she down opposite to them. "Am I not supposed to know about you two? I am old, not blind!" She smiled kindly. "and I am very happy my son finally found someone."
"I don't – it's not-" Mycroft stammered, shaking slightly. Instinctively, Greg took his hand, smiling encouragingly. "Well Mrs Holmes, I'm quite impressed, not even Sherlock noticed." "Didn't he? He's a bit clumsy with people sometimes. Oh and do call me Wanda my dear!" Mr Holmes looked about as confused and surprised as Mycroft –though not nearly as terrified- as he sat down next to his wife. "So- they are - you are together? Since when? Why didn't you tell us?" Mycroft sighed. "Well if you must know, we have been – seeing each other for a couple of months. It's a long story and I do ask you not you go parading about it. There's no need for anyone to know... and you know how I feel about these nicknames!"
Mr Holmes took little Rosie in his arm and started humming happily. "I hope you don't think we would judge you! You must know we live and let live, after uncle Rudi-" "We are very happy for you dear!" Mrs Holmes said again, padding her son's knee. Her face fell as she saw that he still looked very uncomfortable. "Oh really…" She stood up and pulled Mycroft into a tight hug, who flushed a deep red, and, despite himself, smiled. "Oh you too, dear!" Mrs Holmes said, gesturing Greg to join, who obeyed, grinning shyly. Mr Holmes watched, humming merrily, while Rosie squeaked and took hold of her grandfather's glasses. When his wife released the overwhelmed couple, he stood up and padded Greg on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family" he chuckled. "Well, time for Rosie's dinner! I suppose neither of you two wants to feed her?" They shook their heads in shocked unison.