"Mmm. My god, this is delicious," John commented around a mouthful of food. "You're cooking breakfast more often love."

"Not on your life," Rose laughed. "I'm just doing it because I happened to be up already. But I'm glad you like my breakfast quiche." She dished up Sherlock as well, sliding a plate next to her brother, knowing he would probably ignore it.

"What were you up early for?" John asked as she sat down beside him. He frowned when Rose's response was merely shrugging her shoulders and promptly taking a bite of her own breakfast. He let out a sigh. "You're stubborn as the day is long." His sigh was tinged with affection. John reached for her free hand and drew it to his lips, kissing lightly but didn't let go. "Nightmares again?" he asked softly.

There was no need for Rose to answer verbally, the flushing of her cheeks answered on her behalf. Still, she nodded to confirm his suspicions.

John frowned and tugged on her hand, gently pulling her out of her chair and onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her snugly as if they could shield her from the world. "You don't have to suffer through those alone, you know that. I've told you that countless times and I truly hate the thought of you being too frightened to sleep all by yourself. Why didn't you come get me?"

Sherlock, who in general tuned out Rose and John when they were being lovey-dovey with each other, looked over at them and scowled darkly at his flatmate. He cleared his throat loudly and arched an eyebrow when John looked in his direction.

John coughed self-consciously. "Why didn't you come get Sherlock? Or me, even?" he amended. He saw Sherlock nod once and, clearly satisfied, ignore them again.

"Because you have enough of your own nightmares to deal with John, you don't need to deal with mine too. I really appreciate the offer though and I may take you up on it sometime," Rose admitted.

"You better," John said firmly. "Or else."

Rose smiled mischievously as a ripple of excitement went through her. "Or else… what?"

"Or else…" John tried to come up with something and failed. "Alright, so I don't have a ready-made threat," he admitted with a laugh. "But I take your well being quite seriously, as you well know. You are required by law to report any and all nightmares to me immediately."

"Or me," Sherlock added, scowling at John again. He was summarily ignored both by his sister and flatmate.

"Well that sounds quite serious," Rose said thoughtfully. "But what law is that? I'm rather certain I've never heard of such a law before."

"It's a very, very important law, that I just made up right now," John deadpanned. "And I'll really have to insist you follow it or I'll have to resort to some very serious persuasion tactics."

Her pulse quickened as she thought about what that might entail. "Such as?"

"Mandatory cuddles before bed, along with chamomile tea," he decided, nodding emphatically. "Yep, that's definitely the route I'll have to go and I'll be really quite strict about it miss."

Rose pretended to ponder the matter for a moment, tapping her finger against her chin. "You know, with a consequence like that, I really think I'm going to have to break that rule every single time."

"Whatever am I going to do with you, my darling girl?" John murmured. He then chuckled deeply, pressing his forehead against hers as he laughed.

"Oh, I suppose I could think of one or two things you could do, Captain." Rose practically purred his rank in his ear, grinning when she made him groan.

When she purred his rank at him, John felt the instant stirrings of desire in response to it. He quickly clamped them down, letting out a groan as he did so. "Behave, you," he growled, lightly swatting her thigh. "And let me eat my breakfast." He lifted her off his lap and back onto her chair as if she weighed next to nothing, but didn't completely let go of her until he had moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness and leaving her breathless.

With a spring in his step John left 221B and headed for the nearest tube station. A long day at the surgery awaited him, but he felt more than ready for it. In fact, he was already looking forward to coming home. Maybe I'll take Rose out again. A movie wouldn't hurt, John thought to himself. Grabbing his mobile he googled to see what was playing. Then suddenly the hairs on the back of John's neck stood up.

The ex-soldier could feel the presence of someone behind him, following him and carefully slowed his pace while trying to assess the potential danger around him. In the time he'd been living with Sherlock, John had been kidnapped three times, drugged countless times (though admittedly those were mostly Sherlock's doing), shot at several times, and who could even keep track of all the rest. Between all that experience and his time in the army, John was more than able to assess the potential danger, quickly strategize, and fight for survival as necessary.

Thankfully, none of that would be necessary this time around as John realized it was not a person following him so much as a thing. A sleek black vehicle slowed down alongside the pavement and John obligingly stopped and waited for the car to do the same. Crossing his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow, he was completely unsurprised to find Anthea on the other side of the car door when it opened.

"I do have a mobile you know."

"I know," Anthea admitted. "So does he; but alerting you to my coming defeats his purpose." She gave him a look filled with pity that instantly set John on edge.

"He knows, doesn't he?"

"Afraid so and he is…" Anthea searched for an appropriate adjective but failed to find one that fit. "He's about as far from pleased as Mycroft Holmes can possibly be." Anthea slid over in the seat and motioned for John to get in. "I've already called the surgery, they won't be expecting you today."

John sat down in the car and sighed heavily. "Well, that's something good at least. Though for how long Sarah will keep me employed with the number of emergencies that seem to arise in my life I have no idea." A part of him wondered if he should even worry about something so trivial anymore. What exactly was the Holmes patriarch going to do with him? The possibilities were, quite literally, endless.

Anthea felt an overwhelming urge to offer some sort of advice to John, namely because she knew Mycroft was overreacting, as he tended to do when Rose was involved. "If there's anything I've learned in the few years I've worked for Mycroft Holmes, it's that nothing upsets, infuriates, or unravels him more than something to do with his sister. I'm going to suggest that you proceed with extreme caution, which is far more of a warning than I should be giving you," the PA said with a sigh.

Rubbing a hand across his forehead, John let out a similar sigh. He had seen this day coming, anticipated it even, and tried to plan for it in a sense, but there was truly no planning for what amounted to a faceoff with Mycroft Holmes over Rose. She was the only person on this planet who could bring the British Government to his knees and the person for whom Mycroft undoubtedly felt there were no boundaries or limits when it came to keeping her safe.

"Any other helpful hints?" John gave Anthea a bit of an imploring look, knowing that it was rather unfair to place the PA in the middle of this, but he needed all the assistance he could get.

"Whatever he says he might do to you, don't believe for a second that he won't or can't. Tread very lightly, Dr. Watson," she cautioned. With the mood her boss was in, Anthea couldn't help feeling some sympathy for the army doctor.

During the next few minutes as they continued to their destination, John resolved to do three things. One, not text Rose or Sherlock about this; two, to remain calm and not allow Mycroft to rile him; and three, not to allow this to become a scenario where Rose is asked to choose between he and Mycroft. It was a solid plan and one he intended to see through.

When the car came to a stop, John followed Anthea into what amounted to some sort of underground bunker. The hallways were charcoal colored and sparsely lit, full of shadows and sharp turns. Anthea had no trouble navigating the labyrinth and they soon arrived in an office area that was no less dark than the halls had been.

Anthea crossed her office area and knocked briefly on Mycroft's door before opening it. "Sir, Dr. Watson is here." She motioned John over and indicated for him to cross the threshold into Mycroft's office.

John entered the office, half expecting a firing squad to be waiting somewhere inside the room. Instead he found the room empty of anyone except Mycroft and himself, unless one counted the large portrait of the queen hanging behind Mycroft's desk. Exuding an air of calm, he walked across the room and sat in the chair in front of the large desk. Crossing one leg over the other, John quirked an eyebrow at the man seated on the other side of the desk.

Mycroft spent a long moment attempting to stare John down. He had readily done so with various world leaders, radical groups, your average everyday goldfish and countless others. Yet, much to his disgust, John showed no signs of discomfort.

"Tell me, Dr. Watson," Mycroft began slowly. "What the meaning of this is?" He opened a folder in front of him and spread out an array of photographs of John and Rose together, several of which involved featured the two of them kissing.

"Rose and I have begun a relationship together. It's relatively new and Rose wanted to take her time in telling you about it," John admitted. There was no sense being untruthful about any of this. Then again, there was a distinct lack of sense in this whole production Mycroft was trying to put on.

Storm clouds settled over Mycroft's face. "Do you have any idea how completely ridiculous you sound, Dr. Watson? Rose is a child; you are a grown man and not a young one at that. This so-called relationship will end immediately and I will hear no arguments on the matter." The look on his face indicated that Mycroft felt the matter was closed and John was dismissed.

Only John did not want to be dismissed. "Rose is not a child Mycroft. She is young, and the age difference is quite a bit, I'll admit, but she's a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. Trust me; I tried to talk her out of this-"

"Did you really?" Mycroft asked incredulously. "I find that quite hard to believe, given that these photographs exist." He gestured in a sweeping motion over the images. "Additionally, I find it downright insulting that this is what you do behind my back when I have allowed you to associate with both her and my brother and have used my position to get you out of a not insignificant number of scrapes. Furthermore-"

"You've allowed me?" John interrupted, his tone hard as steel. "You don't allow me anything. And for the record, I never asked for you to throw your weight around on my behalf. More importantly, your brother and sister are adults and can associate with whom they please, with or without your permission. I won't allow you to dictate my relationship with either of them. Have you even spoken with Rose about this? About your feelings regarding our relationship?"

"I have no need to consult my sister on matters of her safety and wellbeing, particularly since her judgment over the years has been lacking in those exact areas. This is yet another example of her inability to make good choices." Mycroft let out the sort of long suffering sigh that any parent would recognize. Rose, on her good days, caused him worry. On her bad days, he worried about her constantly and actively began seeking ivory towers to place her in at his earliest opportunity. Those were, however, surprisingly difficult to find.

"That's unfair Mycroft and you know it. You cannot go around making decisions like this for Rose. You have to at least talk with her and-"

"ENOUGH!" Mycroft shouted, slamming his hand on the desk in front of him. "This is not a matter up for debate Dr. Watson. My sister deserves better than you, better than being the latest casual fling or conquest of John "Three Continents" Watson. Oh yes," he paused upon seeing the shock on John's face, smirking at the other man. "I am well acquainted with your sexual history and don't even bother to try and tell me that you love her and respect her because if that was true, there would be no reason at all for my sister to have procured birth control."

John's jaw dropped at the mention of birth control. Certainly he meant to address that issue with Rose, but not until the time came that such a precaution might be necessary.

"You were unaware of that." It was a statement, not a question, and one that filled Mycroft with considerable relief. "This means I've stopped this nonsense in time then," he said. "You will end this… thing with my sister forthwith and I will be watching you very, very carefully Doctor Watson. If things continue in their current vein I will have no problem at all taking further measures of a particularly... unpleasant nature." He let the threat hang in the air as his eyes bored into John.

"What happens between Rose and I is between us and does not include you," John said firmly. "Issue all the threats you like, go on about age and whatever else, but the truth is I love her and I think I have for quite some time. You may still consider her a child, Mycroft, but she's not. She's a grown woman more than capable of making her own choices and it's her that you need to discuss this with, not me," John declared in a raised voice. His plan to remain completely calm was quickly coming to naught and he forced himself to take a few deeps breaths; losing his temper would get him nowhere.

Mycroft stood up and leaned over the desk, hands splayed on the desktop. "Trust me; I'll be having words with my errant sister at my first opportunity to do so. In the meantime, You. Will. Leave. Her. Alone. I urge you not to defy me Doctor Watson, unless you feel the need to find yourself in combat once more… In the middle of the biggest Taliban headquarters I can find to drop you into, for example. How are your self-defense skills these days? Are you prepared for hand-to-hand combat, should your life depend on it? And trust me, it would." He leveled a look of barely concealed rage at the man before him, almost daring John to call it a bluff and see what would happen.

John's heart skipped a beat at the very thought of that happening. Mycroft Holmes did not make idle threats, particularly when it came to his sister. "And what about Rose?" he asked, his tone quiet and hard.

"If she's intelligent, she'll make the correct choice and listen to her brother who knows best," Mycroft retorted.

"Seriously? You're seriously going to do that to her, make her choose?" John asked. Though his voice was quiet, it now bore an undertone of sheer contempt as shock and anger warred for dominance in his eyes. "How you managed to raise someone as caring and kind as Rose is I will never understand, because making her do that is nothing less than cruel and I refuse to be a part of that. We're done here." Without waiting for a dismissal, John got up from the chair and exited Mycroft's office, filled with grim determination.

"No," Rose told him emphatically. "Absolutely not, that's beyond ridiculous."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had known going straight back to Baker Street and having this conversation would be difficult. What he hadn't counted on was Rose's temper, which was surprisingly similar to Mycroft's, immediately coming to the fore.

"Rose, I am not going to ask you to choose," John said firmly. "Mycroft might be comfortable with giving that ultimatum but I am not. From the very beginning I didn't want to come between you and your family and it's clear that Mycroft is not going to let this go. I don't want to any more than you want me to, I promise you that, but-"

"But nothing," Rose ground out. "But nothing at all. Mycroft… he can't do this anymore. We're supposed to be different now and how you of all people are considered someone he'd object to, I have no idea whatsoever." She jumped up from the sofa and began pacing the sitting room.

"Rose, be rational about this. Do you really want to destroy your family over me?" John watched her worriedly.

"Of course not but it shouldn't have to come to that! And let's be honest, if it wasn't you, it would be the next bloke I try to date. It's bigger than you John and he can't act like this. Besides, if you're not an acceptable boyfriend, then I have no idea who would pass muster! Probably no one. Mycroft is…" She let out a shriek of annoyance before crossing the room to grab her coat from the back of the door.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he watched his sister, carefully noting her jerky movements, the set of her jaw, and the fire in her eyes. "Rosenwyn, I know that look and I really do not think it's a good idea to do whatever it is you're imagining right now. Are you listening to me? Rosenwyn!"

Rose looked over at Sherlock as she finished buttoning her coat. "I'm going to Mycroft's office and I'm going to slap that smug look off his face and tell him that this is not the way we operate anymore, he and I. I simply will not allow it."

"Think very, very carefully Rose," Sherlock cautioned. "Running to his office, having a strop and slapping him is not the best way to say 'I'm a mature adult and can date whomever I please.' Not to mention he is liable to murder you in his office if you even so much as consider slapping his face. Admittedly, it's a very smug face and undoubtedly would benefit from a good slapping, but I must advise against it."

"And if his face is so well deserving of a good slap, as you yourself agree, why should I not do so? Hmm? Tell me that? Why are you defending him? He's completely out of line!" Rose put her hands on her hips and awaited an answer.

"I am, for whatever reason, quite fond of you," Sherlock began. "Having you around is entertaining at points, and I would truly prefer that you not leave this world prematurely. I would be intolerably bored. Additionally, John might be upset enough to cry if Mycroft murdered you and subjecting me to emotional displays other than your own is really quite cruel Rose."

"You have to see some reason here," John added, trying to head her off before she stormed out the door. "You can't just go off and confront him, let alone slap him! Be sensible Rose! There's a better way to talk to him than amid fury and slapping."

"If he's not going to be sensible, neither am I!" Rose shouted. Before either man could say anything further, she exited the flat, stomped down the stairs and left the building.

John turned to Sherlock, his eyebrows raised. "Aren't you going after her?"

Sherlock shook his head. "There's no stopping her when she's like this and Mycroft brought it on himself. He should expect this result and he's an idiot if he didn't anticipate it."

"Are you going to warn Mycroft that Little Miss Fury incarnate is heading his way?"

Again, the middle Holmes shook his head. "Nope. Though I would very much like to be a fly on that wall, as the saying goes."

If it was out of the ordinary for an angry young woman to be stalking the corridors of Whitehall no one seemed to comment on it. Rose Holmes walked with determination, anger fueling each step, ignoring everyone around her as she made her way to Mycroft's office. Whether people she passed recognized her, had been told to expect her, or just decided to stay out of her way Rose wasn't sure, but she appreciated the lack the interference. As she rounded the corner to Mycroft's Whitehall office, Rose ran into her first obstacle.

Anthea jumped up from her desk to intercept Rose before she stormed into Mycroft's office. "Rose, take a deep breath. No, I mean it, take a deep breath." The inveterate PA stood bodily in front of the door, attempting to prevent Rose from walking into her own doom. "Your brother is with the Prime Minister. Why don't I order some tea, or coffee, and you can wait. I'm sure he'll be happy to discuss the matter with you once he's finished."

"I want to discuss it now and I'm not going to wait. Not when he pulls these kinds of shenanigans I'm not," Rose explained. "Please move Anthea, or I will be forced to assist you in doing so and don't think for a second that I won't."

Surveying the furious young woman before her, Anthea couldn't help but notice the distinct similarities of temper between Rose and Mycroft. Eyes blazing with fire, Rose stood up to her full height, her body rigid and tense as anger bubbled just under the surface of her tightly held together composure. Though given a minute more that composure was likely to completely crumble and disintegrate into a very loud show of complete and utter fury.

From the very beginning Anthea had been against Mycroft's plan of enforcing a separation between Rose and John. Granted, Rose wasn't her sister and Anthea herself had no real say in the matter, but even she could tell that this would end very badly in one fashion or another. After all, it didn't take a genius to see the way Rose was able to so completely unravel her brother who worried about her constantly. Keeping an eye on Sherlock and potentially heading off a return to his old drug habits easily took second place to whatever the littlest Holmes may or may not be up to. There was a level of complexity and dysfunction in the relationship between the oldest and youngest Holmes that Anthea did not quite understand but was present nonetheless.

"Promise me you aren't going to do something stupid. As I said, the Prime Minister is conferencing with your brother and he won't appreciate being interrupted. Promise me you'll tread lightly," Anthea pleaded. It was for Rose's sake that she tried to talk some sense into her as Anthea knew Mycroft would not take kindly to being interrupted and told off.

Rose shook her head. "I can't promise that. Please, Anthea, get out of my way."

With a sigh the PA stood aside and watched Rose open the door, slamming it off the office wall. This was going to get ugly…

Mycroft paid no attention to the sound of the door being opened, assuming it was Anthea with a fresh pot of tea. As soon as the door slammed against the wall both it and Rose had his full attention.

Unfortunately, Rose also had the full attention of the Prime Minister as well.

A shadow of irritation crossed Mycroft's face as he began to address his sister. "Rosenwyn, I'm quite busy at the-"

"The Taliban?" Rose interrupted. "The Taliban. The Taliban. Was the Tower of London all full up?" The longer she spoke, the higher her voice rose. "Did you run out of suitcases to stuff someone into? Did Siberia have a giant thaw that I and the rest of the world are unaware of? THE TALIBAN?! Of all the completely idiotic and insensitive threats to make Mycroft Holmes, that is the outside of enough! And just who do you think you are to-"

Before Rose could complete her sentence, Mycroft was out of his chair and rounding his desk at top speed. The Prime Minister watched with wide eyes as Mycroft took a firm hold of Rose's arm and hauled her out of his office.

"Keep your mouth shut," Mycroft hissed, slamming the door behind him. He continued to haul her through Anthea's office and down the hall, his long strides causing Rose to scramble in order to keep up with him. Finally he stopped and, taking hold of her other arm, gave her a slight shake. "There is a time and place to air your grievances with me and in my office during working hours and especially in front of the Prime Minister is not one of those times Rosenwyn. Your behavior is completely out of line and unless you would like to go back into my office and be put over my knee in front of the Prime Minister, you will cease and desist with this childish behavior and go back to Baker Street at once."

Unwilling to see if he would carry through on his threat, Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her mind reeling as she tried to decide what to say in response. It took another two deep breaths before she felt sufficiently calm enough to respond. "This is not over, Mycroft," she said sternly. "Not even close. You have a lot to answer for."

Mycroft's jaw tightened as his eyes flashed dangerously. "As do you, sister mine; as do you. Now you will exit this building with as much decorum as you possess and think long and hard about the kinds of choices you're making of late. I will expect some sincere reflections this evening. Am I understood?"

Rose seethed with anger and humiliation, her eyes practically boring holes into her brother's head. Yet, even she would acknowledge there were lines not meant to be crossed and she at least had respect for them, even if he did not. "Yes," she ground out.

Raising an eyebrow, Mycroft pressed her, saying "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I understand."

Mycroft's eyebrow raised another fraction. "Yes, I understand… what?"

"Yes, I understand and I will see you later," Rose responded as she pulled herself free of his hold. Immediately she turned on her heel and stalked off down the hallway.

"How did it go?" Sherlock asked casually when Rose returned to the flat. His eyes looked her over, expecting her to be somewhat the worse for wear. Surprisingly enough she seemed fine, and was even somewhat subdued.

"Not well," she admitted, letting out a long sigh. "I nearly got smacked in a corridor of Whitehall. But it's not over. I'll be summoned home later on." Rose smiled as Sherlock motioned for her to sit down. She was more than happy to share his chair and not at all surprised when he pulled her onto his lap instead of the cushion. "Where's John?"

"They had an emergency at surgery and Sarah begged him to come in." While this was the truth, it was not the whole of it.

"He's hurting, isn't he?" Rose asked, turning worried eyes to her brother. "You're not saying everything, I know you aren't."

"Always too smart for your own good, Rosie." Sherlock kissed the top of her head. "I have no doubt Mycroft's careless threat will trigger John's PTSD in some form or another. As for the status of his emotional well being, that you will have to speak with John about."

Rose nodded. "But first, Mycroft and I need to work this out before it goes any further. I just don't understand. What possible objection could he have with John? I mean, John is… well… John! My is blowing my mind in a really bad way right now."

"I don't think it's entirely John that's the problem," Sherlock said, frowning in thought. "He would likely react this way no matter who it was, John or otherwise." Somehow he doubted whether Mycroft would ever consider anyone at all to be good enough for Rose. "John is a male therefore Mycroft wishes to chase him away; the age difference certainly doesn't help matters."

"What is it with you two and men? First it was you and the one I had coffee with in Speedy's, now its Mycroft and John. There seriously can't be anyone who could possibly be more acceptable than John, age difference or not. Besides, age is just a number," Rose pointed out. "He will round right? And get over this?" She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "He'll need time, likely a considerable amount of it before he'll ever be 'okay' with the idea. You're quite determined to fight him then, for John?"

"I am. I have to say, I wish John had fought a little harder for me rather than give in so easily." All in her anger, she hadn't taken the time to think about she felt on that matter. Now that she had the time, Rose was finding herself feeling rather conflicted, and even a bit wounded, at John's willingness to give her up. Though Mycroft could be rather intimidating when he tried and she was certain he had tried his hardest that morning.

"That's probably my fault," Sherlock admitted. "I had a feeling Mycroft might take things in this direction and I asked John not to force you to choose. I knew it would hurt you deeply to have to make that sort of choice, between Mycroft and John, if not be downright impossible to do."

Rose lifted her head from his shoulder where it had come to rest and looked at him, her expression growing still and serious. Sherlock half expected her to scold him for that but instead, after a moment, she nodded slowly.

"Thank you for that," she said softly. "That's actually very thoughtful, in a way. My point is that I shouldn't have to be asked to choose and that's one of the main reasons why I'm so angry with Mycroft because it shouldn't be this way. But I do appreciate you trying to help and anticipating this problem. Though to be honest I did too, but I was so very hopeful My would prove me wrong."

Finding himself at a loss of words that might make her feel better, Sherlock opted for comforting instead. Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he gathered her as close as he could and swayed just slightly with her in his arms. This could become a very slippery slope in a relationship that had finally healed after so much time apart and Sherlock would be damned if he let Mycroft undo it all. If Mycroft doesn't at least attempt to come to his senses and ends up hurting Rose, she will be the least of his problems, Sherlock thought to himself.

NOTE: A bit shorter than I wanted it to be but the second half of this is taking longer than anticipated, so I thought I would break it in two with the second part to follow ASAP. Besides, that amps up the tension, right?