Mycroft watched the clock in his office as ten minutes ticked slowly by. That seemed like a reasonable amount of time to make her wait, not too long or too short. It also gave him time to reflect on her behavior during the collaborative scolding that had been administered. In all honesty, he'd expected far more defiance and defensiveness than she'd exhibited, making him wonder if perhaps she was maturing or if he would merely find that waiting upstairs. After all, one could reason that it would be highly embarrassing to strop in front of one's beau so why not wait until it was just the two of them to have a shouting match about it?
Shockingly enough, Mycroft even believed Rose when she said she didn't realize the sort of damage broken ribs would cause and found that somewhat comforting. It was far more distasteful to believe Rose had some sort of invincibility complex or simply had no regard for her own life than it was to see things through her own eyes. Mycroft recalled each of the injuries she'd mentioned receiving over the years and had rushed from meetings to her hospital bed more times than he cared to admit. Twice he had walked out of conferences and immediately flown home for the more grievous injuries, though one of those had been a burst appendix and not an actual dance injury now that he thought about it.
Regardless of the countless prior injuries, there was no denying that dancing was a sport, something he had realized early on, and anyone who considered it anything less than a sport was a fool. Few made it through a life in athletic pursuits without serious risk of injury, hence why there was no reason for Rose to up her chances of damaging herself with foolish choices.
Finally ten minutes slipped away, effectively removing Mycroft from his musings and propelling him upstairs. Knocking lightly on her bedroom door, he then entered and let out a soft sigh of relief to find her in the corner has he'd directed, dressed in her pajamas, which was a wise choice considering her propensity to sleep straight after. "You may come out now," he said quietly while taking a seat on her bed.
Turning away from the corner, Rose looked at her eldest brother with anxious eyes. He wasn't shouting, he wasn't ordering, and they weren't even in his study. She hardly even knew what to make of it all. When Mycroft waved her over towards him, she hesitated just slightly before sitting down on her bed, immediately beginning to trace the pattern of the comforter with one finger.
"I'm not going to murder you Rose, though I am admittedly still baffled as to your thought process throughout this whole thing," Mycroft commented. "I understand that you didn't realize how dangerous that particular injury could be and I'm not going to castigate you over it. I think you've come to understand things are not always the simple hurts one might believe them to be. Am I right?"
Rather than answer his question, Rose looked up at him, anxiety written all over her face. "Are you going to force me to stop dancing now?" Twenty though she may be, Rose was well aware that she still depended on Mycroft financially for certain things when the ends of her two paychecks didn't quite meet. This was especially true after being unemployed for the past six weeks, eating food she hadn't purchased for instance. In addition to that, Mycroft controlled her inheritance until she was older and Rose's savings had been entirely depleted during her eighteen month sojourn around the continent.
"Am I going to—Is that what this has been about?" Mycroft asked incredulously. "Were you lying to all of us downstairs when you claimed not to realize the extent of your injuries?" Now his voice was hard and tinged with anger.
"No, I wasn't lying, I promise," Rose hurried to assure him. "I suppose on some level that concern factored into things, subconsciously. But I've been waiting and waiting these last six weeks for you to tell me it's done, I've had my go at it, I'm an idiot and it's time to find something else to do. Which, if that is your plan, I think we might be in for a rough patch because if I have learned anything during this whole resting time it's that I cannot fully live without dancing." Her voice cracked as she admitted this and Rose began furiously blinking back tears.
Mentally Mycroft cursed his brother for being right yet again, when he himself had been too frustrated and angry to listen. The frustration and depression Sherlock had spoken of was playing out in front of him this very moment as Rose fought her tears while being quite blunt about the fact that she wouldn't listen if that was his plan. Luckily for her it wasn't.
"Don't get yourself worked up Rose, you'll have plenty to cry about shortly," Mycroft replied in a meaningful tone. "I have no intention of forcing you to quit dancing, ever, provided you're still living. That is my goal, to keep you on this earth despite your best efforts to the contrary, even the unintentional ones. I've accustomed myself to idea that you are a dancer, that is what you are meant to be and you won't let me stand in your way if I disapprove.
"Being a parent, or guardian, or concerned older brother, or whatever other label you would like to affix to us, is often about picking battles," he continued. "I have decided that this isn't a battle I need to have with you, not if we wish to remain as we are presently. We have come full circle to the sort of relationship we used to have and I am trying to make sure we stay that way. Just be forewarned, I may not always be successful at it, but I shall try to be."
Mycroft could see the relief that flooded her eyes just seconds before Rose threw her arms around him, almost strangling him in her efforts to hold on tightly. Immediately Sherlock came to his mind again unbidden, however this time when he thought of his brother, Mycroft mentally thanked Sherlock for counseling- or insisting rather- patience with their sister. "Besides, there are far worse things you could be than a ballroom dancer," Mycroft added, wrapping his arms around her in return.
Rose pulled back from him slightly, her bright eyes round and wide. "There are?" What a reversal of his feelings from just a few years ago! "Are you really my brother? Have you been cloned? I think I need to call Anthea and have a state of emergency declared. Possibly have a search party started, too, because this makes no sense at all."
The eldest Holmes nodded, looking quite grave and serious. "I am in fact your brother and I forbid you from bothering Anthea over such silliness. And certainly there are far worse things!" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "For example, you could be an American."
Her jaw dropped open. Was he making a joke? Was Mycroft Holmes making a joke?! At a time like this? "Mycroft, oh my god!" Rose exclaimed before bursting into a fit of giggles. "That is really, really terrible!"
"Also quite truthful. The North Koreans and the Americans give me the most trouble of anyone else," Mycroft commented. "And you were the one that asked for an example, were you not? I can offer a few others if you-"
"No, no, no," Rose interjected, shaking her head. "Lord only knows what your other examples might be: a belly dancer or something and those types of answers are all places that you and I do not need to share mental imagery of, alright? Though admittedly it's been nice to have a bit of a laugh." Sobering a bit, she reached for his hand and squeezed it once, tightly. "Thank you for everything, My. For supporting me and picking your battles wisely," her eyes twinkled with mischief at that one. "And for wanting to stay close as much as I do. I don't ever want to go back to the place we were in before when I felt so… alone."
Taking advantage of the fact that Rose was still on his lap after her attempt to half-strangle him, Mycroft wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly. He wanted to say something meaningful that would soothe the hurts from the not so distant past, yet he could think of nothing. No simple statement could erase his harsh words, the multitude of fights, and the times he felt overwhelmed and had simply lost patience with her because she needed constantly. Sherlock's absence had created a far greater gap in the household than he'd anticipated.
"I never meant for you to feel that way," Mycroft stated quietly. "Even when I was responsible for it, it was never my true intention to make you feel alone or unloved. You have always been loved, even if I've been rubbish at showing it sometimes." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and waited to see if Rose felt like sharing more. This hadn't exactly been the order in which he'd anticipated this topic coming up during her overnight stay, but Mycroft had no desire to steer clear of the conversation just because it emerged now rather than later. But, surprisingly enough, Rose was silent except for a murmured, "I love you too, My." Typically so open with her feelings, Mycroft could always sense a hesitation whenever the topic of her troubled teens emerged. It was unlike her to be guarded and Mycroft disliked the idea that there may be some serious issue going unaddressed or that her jaunt around the continent had been more difficult than she portrayed it.
Rose was guarded on the topic, very consciously, though not for her own benefit. She kept to herself all the dark times during her travels and the feelings that had driven her from her home in hopes of resetting things in order to protect him. Given the efforts Mycroft had made to repair things, Rose couldn't bring herself to lay it all out before him and risk hurting him deeply. Mycroft may seem impervious to anything other than cold calculating reason to the rest of the world, but Rose knew differently.
When it became clear that Rose had shared all that she would for the present time, Mycroft chose to press on and address the issue at hand. "While you seem quite cozy as you are, we do have business that we must move on to," he firmly reminded her. "I believe you know why you find yourself here, if the conversation downstairs was any indication. Am I correct?" When Rose nodded and shifted her eyes downward to look at the comforter, he continued on. "Then before I take the spanking spoon to your bottom, I'd like to hear what you've learned, Rosenwyn."
"That I'm very clearly not a doctor, nor am I very good at self-diagnosis," Rose began. "But mostly… mostly how important my body is. Not that I was on the level of Sherlock and his transport theory, and not that either of you always take the best care of yourselves, but…" She paused, frowning a bit as she tried to organize her thoughts. "This is going to sound monumentally stupid, but I never really made the connection between today and the long term before this. And if I'm being honest, I didn't even make that connection on my own. John pointed out that if I didn't do what I needed to do now and let my body heal properly, I could develop issues that would affect me and my career for the rest of my life."
Silently Mycroft placed a point in John's favor in his mind palace. Thus far, the man only had three points in his favor and would need to accrue a great deal more to ever earn Mycroft's full approval.
"Dancing means everything and I want to do it every day until I die. Whether I'm competing, performing, or teaching, I want the ability to do it my whole life." Rose lifted her eyes from the comforter to look at Mycroft properly. "This was so hard, trying to be good and do exactly what I needed to so that I would heal properly. It might be one of the hardest things I've ever done, resting and having virtually no purpose to my life for six weeks. I don't ever want to go through that again and I'm going to try much, much harder to keep from hurting myself- severely hurting myself. There will always be bumps and bruises," she admitted.
"Yes, there will always be bumps and bruises, but you will take care with them and be cognizant of your body's needs, correct?" Mycroft wasn't surprised when Rose nodded enthusiastically. "I must say I am… impressed. This is a moment of true maturity and I'm proud of you for recognizing that the long term effects of short term injuries, whether from dancing or something else, can be greater than one anticipates. Though I suspect your choreography will be no less daring than prior to your broken ribs-"
"We'll practice with mats for the hard things until we get it right," Rose interrupted. "Even if it's annoying."
"Good girl. And what are the remaining issues that need to be addressed?" Mycroft prompted.
"Lack of forethought, which at times I wonder if that's ever going to change. But also remembering that it's okay to lean on people and I should do so more often. Sometimes others know better than I do; but only sometimes mind you," she cautioned, giving him a small smile. The little quirk of his lips at that statement did not go unnoticed.
Mycroft nodded his agreement. "Precisely so. Additionally, you need to answer for the poor choices you made and had been making for weeks, which brings us to why I and the spanking spoon find ourselves here."
"Why are we here?" Rose asked, crinkling her nose as she tried to discern the answer. "It's always your study, or at least ninety-eight percent of the time it is. I don't… I don't suppose I could talk you out of this, could I? No dancing and untenable boredom for six weeks, lesson learned?"
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her and simply said, "No." The tone, and the eyebrow, made it clear he was not going to listen to pleas for leniency. "Can you honestly tell me that you don't deserve to be soundly spanked, Rose? I think this time even you know that you have more than earned it. Thank your lucky stars that Sherlock made a persuasive argument against sterner measures than the spoon and that you still have Dr. Watson to answer to. If you still lived here at home, you'd be over my knee at bedtime for a week."
Rose's face went red, a silent acknowledgement that Mycroft was correct. She knew she'd earned it, even if she didn't like it.
"Well if you liked it that would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn't you agree?" Mycroft asked, raised eyebrow and all.
"I hate it when you know what I'm thinking," she retorted with a scowl. "But back to the original question. Why are we here?"
"Considering you are just recently released from resting your broken ribs, I thought it might be counterproductive to turn you over my knee in the study and put pressure on those same ribs. In here, we can utilize your bed to give you better support while I put you over my knee," Mycroft explained. "And I think it's time we get this taken care of Rosenwyn. Dressing gown off, please." As she moved to do so, undoubtedly regretting that the loss of layers between the spoon and her bottom, he narrowed his eyes and looked closely at what appeared to be scenes from a film on the dressing gown. "Is that… Cinderella?"
With a slight huff, Rose got up from his lap and stood beside the bed where she untied her dressing gown and tossed it towards the end of the bed. His question drew a bit of a smile from her. "It was a gift from Lou. A 'sorry you can't dance, here's a Cinderella robe, just keep on believing and the dreams you wish will come true' gift." She smiled a bit wider when Mycroft let out a noise of annoyance that somewhat resembled a snort. "Yes, I know, Louise is very special. Haven't got a clue where she found it but it has served its purpose well." Her smile faded and turned into a sigh as Mycroft moved the pillows to the floor and sat down with his back against the headboard, crooking his finger at her.
"Hand me the spoon and come here," Mycroft said sternly. "Pajama bottoms down and then right over my knee. Be certain you tell me if your ribs start hurting. Otherwise, accustom yourself to the idea of being there for a bit."
Biting her lip, Rose moved towards the head of her bed and handed him the dreaded spanking spoon. Then she knelt on the bed and pushed her burgundy colored pajama bottoms to her knees before leaning over Mycroft's lap. Almost immediately she could feel Mycroft reposition her, nudging Rose over further until her bottom was directly across his left knee.
"How do your ribs feel?" Mycroft asked. "Too much pressure?"
Reluctantly Rose shook her head. "No, I think it'll be alright. I'll tell you if it's not, I promise." She had no more wish to hurt herself further than he did.
Nodding in response, Mycroft reached for the waistband of her knickers and began pulling them down, ignoring the indignant squeak Rose let out. He pulled them down to join her pajama bottoms at the hollows of her knees and then reached for the spoon. "Are you going to be able to keep your hands away, or should I just hold them now?" He had no desire to award extra spanks for interfering, let alone risk smacking her hand with the spoon by mistake.
Rose liked to think she had the will power to keep her hands in front of her, but history had proven time and again she didn't. "Hold this one," she decided, putting her right hand back for him to take.
Immediately Mycroft took her hand and held it at her side, giving it an encouraging squeeze. He was rather proud of his Rose for acting so mature, her bit of defensiveness in his study aside. Tapping the spoon light against her bum in warning, he then raised it and brought it down with a mighty smack to her right cheek.
"Ow!" Rose yelped. She always forgot how much that spoon hurt! The spoon fell again and again, landing randomly all over her bottom, leaving a mighty sting in its wake. Rose attempted to take her punishment stoically, though why she ever bothered trying she had no idea. The spoon was not an implement that allowed one to be very stoic. Therefore it wasn't long until that plan went completely out the window as the spoon kept up a staccato pace of painful smacks.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ow!" Rose yelped, beginning to squirm over his lap. There was a brief pause and then she felt Mycroft's legs pinning her own down.
"Not because you're being a problem," Mycroft responded before she could even ask why. "But I have I feeling I might be kicked in the face if I don't preempt you." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when Rose responded to that statement with a typical Holmesian snort of derision. Mycroft quickly schooled his features though and returned to the task at hand which was to spank the daylights out of his ridiculous little sister.
The spoon resumed its rapid fire pace, setting her bottom on fire wherever it landed and quickly raising a dusty rose color. As the color grew brighter, Rose began wiggling in earnest, shifting her hips to try and get her bottom out of the spoon's range. "Ow! Mycroft! Ow please! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Rose pleaded.
Just when she was certain her bottom couldn't sting more or get any hotter Mycroft moved the spoon to her sit spots, intent on painting them a bright red. "Noooooo! No not there! Ow! OUCH! Ow, My! Aaaah!" Rose quickly burst into tears, unable to hold out with a full on spoon assault to that tender area. "My please! I'll be good!" she called out.
"Yes there, and I'm sure you will be very good, but we've some way to go yet," Mycroft commented as the spoon continued peppering her sit spots. "I want to make very sure that you never, ever, ever treat your life so callously again and if the only way to accomplish that is to blister your bum with this spoon, then that is precisely what I'll do." That was largely an exaggeration as Mycroft would never knowing raise actual blisters but the metaphor was an apt one. "You are far, far too old to still be making such poor decisions and I know you can do better if you try. But I promise you, Rosenwyn Aramantha, every single time you put yourself in danger, you will go over my knee and I don't care how old you are!" The spoon aided in his lecture by providing a few very stern swats to accompany the most important parts of his lecture.
By now Rose was crying in earnest, still squirming over his knee. Her efforts made little difference to Mycroft's aim, however, as the spoon thoroughly smacked every inch of her bum, turning it bright red. "Please My, I'll be good! Stop My, please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Rose pleaded through her tears. Still she received no reprieve and the spoon continued to spank, uncaring of the red ovals it left in its wake or how much she pleaded.
Mycroft watched carefully for the signs that Rose had truly had enough, though if she didn't stop wiggling soon, he'd have to stop anyway as her poor bottom was tending towards a crimson color now. Just as he was thinking that, Rose pressed her face into the bedspread and let out a fractured wail that was followed by heavy sobs. The spanking stopped immediately and Mycroft dropped the spoon onto the floor before gently raising Rose's pants and pajama bottoms. When that was done, he began rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Alright, we're done now," Mycroft told her in reassuring tone. "It's all done."
Rose got up from his lap almost immediately and knelt on the bed as she rubbed her bum for a moment. Completely dismayed that it seemed to give her no comfort at all, Rose instead turned to Mycroft and reached for him. She wasn't disappointed as Mycroft immediately pulled her close and held on to her tightly. Grabbing hold of him, or rather his waistcoat, Rose pressed her face against his shoulder and sobbed.
It had been quite some time since he'd last spanked her so harshly and Mycroft quickly found himself reverting to phrases and efforts to comfort her that he'd used when she was younger. "Shh, there, there," Mycroft murmured as he began to rock her slowly. "I know it hurts, but it'll be alright. You'll be just fine, I promise poppet. You were very, very brave and you're such a good girl Rose."
It hurt him to know that he was the cause of her frantic tears, but by the same token, he'd much rather spank her very soundly now than lose her or see her career end because Rose continued to act as if she were invincible or immune from consequences. Uncertain if she could even hear him or process the words just yet, Mycroft kept up with his post-spanking litany just the same. "Shh, shh, you're alright. I love you very much poppet, so very much. I'll always love you, even when you do very, very ridiculous things. But you're such a good girl, I know you won't do this ever again."
Just when it seemed like she would never calm down, Rose's tears began to slow and she began making apologies like a skipping record. "I'm sorry My, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, turning her face away from his shoulder. "So sorry, I'm so sorry."
Mycroft pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I know poppet, I know," he murmured as he rocked. "No more sorry, it's alright now. I love you and forgive you Rose. It's alright now. Shh. Shh. It's alright, poppet." Rose looked exhausted and surely had to be after that spanking and so many tears.
"Promise?" Rose asked, trying to swipe at her tears.
"I promise. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I'll tuck you in after a while," Mycroft assured her. He continued rocking her and even patted her back gently, as Rose closed her eyes and fell fast asleep, his waistcoat still scrunched up in one hand.
A chirping noise roused Rose from her post-spanking slumber a few hours later. Mycroft was gone, though when that had happened and she had been tucked under the covers, Rose had no idea. With somewhat blurry eyes, she reached for her mobile on the nightstand and saw a text from John waiting for her.
'Still alive over there?'
With a sleepy smile, Rose sent a reply.
'Just woke up, have no plans to sit for the foreseeable future.'
'Shall I come by with some arnica cream?'
Rose snorted and shook her head. She could just picture it now: Oh, hello Mycroft, I've just come by to see Rose and rub some cream on her sorry bum so it feels better. Just go about your life as if I'm not here. There was no way in hell that would go over well with her brother, who Rose knew merely tolerated John for her sake. Popping round to put his hand on her bare bum, even for healing purposes, was unlikely to be very popular with Mycroft and could very well result in grave bodily harm to John.
'You may doctor me up tomorrow after practice when I get back to Baker Street.'
'If you're sure. Very quiet around here without you.'
'Very sure, and I miss you too.'
Across London, John smiled broadly at her text. He didn't even notice Sherlock was trying to get his attention until the man thundered his name. "What?" John asked, frowning at his flat mate.
"We have a case in Kensington," Sherlock stated, returning John's frown with one of his own. "Is she alright?"
"Rose?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course Rose, who else would I ask about?"
"Sore but fine from what she said. Worried?" John smiled just a bit, unable to keep from doing so. The way Sherlock worried and fussed over Rose always struck him as very sweet. For someone who claimed he was sociopath, Sherlock cared greatly for his little sister. Not that John had ever really believed the whole sociopath claim, not after he got to know Sherlock.
"We have a case." Sherlock turned around and exited the flat with a dramatic swirl of his coat, causing John to chuckle as he followed him out the door.
After convincing Mycroft that it would be entirely too painful to sit, supper had convened in the sitting room with the coffee table repurposed to hold their meal of beef bourguignon and cornbread. This allowed Rose to kneel beside it, rather than attempting to sit on the hard dining room chairs. It was unorthodox and unheard of in the Holmes household to eat outside of the dining room, at least when Mycroft was home, but Rose's tearful pleas and knowing how hard he had spanked her just a few hours earlier swayed him. That and she'd also made them dinner.
"Can I ask you something?" Rose asked once they'd settled into their meal.
"I don't know, can you?" Mycroft arched an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Rose rolled her eyes and took another bite of her stew. "Are you ever lonely, My?" She promptly cringed as he began coughing.
Mycroft reached for his wine to wash down the food he'd just inhaled into his throat at being asked that question. "What an absurd thing to ask Rose," he commented when his coughing fit finished. "Of course I am not lonely. Whatever made you think that I was?"
Blushing, she shrugged her shoulders. "Sherlock said you were all ominous about me bringing a bag because you miss me and wanted me to stay the night."
The confusion on Mycroft's face softened to comprehension. "Ah. Well, missing someone is not quite the same as being lonely. It is true that I do not get to spend much time with you anymore and considering your lifelong habit of falling asleep after have your bottom spanked, it seemed reasonable to just have you stay the night. But Sherlock was right, as odd as that sounds to say, I do miss you. Not always, generally not when you're actually around me…"
His teasing drew a laugh from Rose. "But it's still a bit odd for me at times that you're not here still. Not in negative way though, it's just more noticeable at certain times than it is otherwise." Mycroft's eyes narrowed as a familiar gleam appeared in Rose's eyes. "Whatever mischief you're planning, put it out of your mind immediately, Rosenwyn. I am not lonely, nor will I ever be. I am perfectly content with life as it is, though I will admit that this is… nice. Having dinner."
"We could do it more often if you like. When you're free and I'm not practicing. I'd make time for you," Rose offered. "I'll even cook for you! You could come to Baker Street, too for dinners… Or not," she amended when Mycroft made a disgruntled face.
"I will take you up on that offer here, where I can rest assured I shan't be poisoned," Mycroft replied firmly. "I do not trust Sherlock anywhere near my food. Additionally, Baker Street is far too… chaotic for my taste. Now, how have you been keeping yourself busy these past few weeks?"
"Many, many, many film marathons. I loved 'Game of Thrones' so, so much. It's like… beyond words! It's all history set in a fantasy medieval-ish land. You know, powerful families vying for power, never knowing if you can trust your allies or if your allies are only in it for themselves-"
"Allies are only your allies as long as it is convenient to be so," Mycroft interjected.
"Precisely!" Rose exclaimed. "So thank you *so* much for that! I cajoled Sherlock into getting me the second season and I might not survive if I can't get the other two soon. I just have to know what happens!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Mycroft replied. "Have you done anything other than watch telly for hours on end?"
"Yes! I've been reading a lot too. I read The Great Gatsby and it's really the most interesting book. I need to get my hands on some more of that author's work. It was just a book on my shelf that I couldn't for the life of me recall reading and gave it a go. Finished it in a day," she said, pausing to eat more.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "That's because you didn't read it Rose. It was assigned reading for the classic literature class you took your first semester at university. The one you failed." He raised both eyebrows at her as Rose began to blush.
"Not fair bringing that up. It was ages ago and I'd already read most of those books," Rose countered. "You didn't need to take it so personally that I didn't pass it."
"I didn't… Have you lost your mind Rosenwyn?" Mycroft demanded. "Of course I took it personally! I had only spent fifteen years, since the day you came home from hospital, reading you the classics, teaching you how to read from them, teaching you languages with them! And then you go off half-cocked and fail the class? You're damn right I took that personally. Just like I took your scorching of one of my Jules Verne, Jules bloody Verne, first editions personally!"
Rose let out a huff. "That was an accident and you know it."
Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her. "You do not end up in a closet with a candle and one of the first editions I kept in a locked display case by accident."
"Alright, alright, My," Rose replied wearily as she raised her hands in surrender. "I know the drill: this is why we cannot have nice things. I really did regret that, you know, long before I got spanked for it. I was just really excited to practice picking locks like Sherlock taught me and then I thought how much fun it would be to read with a candle in a dark place, like they did in the past when they read by candlelight. In our brother's defense, though, Sherlock was the one that convinced me it was better to confess than go with plan A: hope you didn't notice." Her face took on a reddish hue at that admission and she quickly turned her attention back to her meal.
Rose had just taken a bite of her cornbread when Mycroft asked the question she had been hoping he would forget to ask.
"So what was this you mentioned last night about a driving license? That DI Lestrade confiscated?" Mycroft asked. He raised an eyebrow at her before reaching for his wine glass.
Choking on the cornbread crumbs she'd just inhaled, Rose reached for her wine glass and took a drink from which she almost immediately recoiled. "Oh my god, red wine is disgusting," she announced, looking as though she had just eaten something particularly sour. Her water glass was quickly emptied before Rose turned her attention back to Mycroft.
"I got it while I was in Luxembourg. It wasn't actually in my name, but I did take a real exam and pass it. I ended up keeping it and Greg found it when I was driving him out to the country house," Rose began. "He took it and somehow Sherlock found out about it and that's why… well…" She huffed as her face grew warm and red once more.
"If it had already been confiscated then why did Sherlock feel the need to correct you?" Mycroft asked, trying to piece it all together.
"He thought I had given him everything. Sherlock had taken my passports already, all three of them, and in an effort to reassure him that I wasn't going anywhere, I gave him everything else I had."
Mycroft nodded slowly. "With the exception of the license. You forgot?"
Rose shook her head regretfully. "I kept it. I thought I might have need of it someday for something." She shrugged her shoulders.
"You're a better planner than that," Mycroft mused aloud. "If you did not forget you had it or misplaced it, there was a reason you kept it." He had a sickening feeling that he knew precisely why she had and a part of him desperately wanted Rose to rebut his theory.
The color slowly drained from Rose's face and there was no masking the pain that settled in her eyes, even as she began to study her cornbread rather intently. Though she wasn't looking at him, Rose could feel Mycroft watching her, deducing every part of her and it made her stomach clenched tightly. It was times like this that Rose wished she had the ability to mask her feelings the way her brothers did. "My… just don't. It is unimportant, irrelevant and counterproductive."
Silence and tension filled the sitting room as they sat there, Rose inspecting her cornbread and Mycroft more or less reading her. He knew the reason and if he had been unsure, Rose's body language and responses would decide it for him.
"You kept it in case you needed to leave again," Mycroft said bluntly. "If things did not get better between you and I that fake license would at least get you out of the country until you could obtain new identity papers from whomever your source for those was." Saying it aloud, knowing it was true, that very knowledge twisted his heart painfully. Rose was still holding that fake license tightly as if it were a lifeline four months after returning. How close had he come to losing her again in that time? Really and truly losing her? He thought back to the words he spoke in his office the day after she returned.
I most certainly didn't ask for you to be born and become my responsibility.
Rose closed her eyes as he uttered the words she had not wanted him to hear, let alone say. Her heart ached painfully as guilt gripped it hard and wouldn't let go. Hot tears began rolling down her cheeks as Rose got up from the floor.
The sound of a smothered sob drew Mycroft out of his painful realization and back into the moment. No matter how those words tore at him inside, Rose was the very picture of pain. Guilt was scrawled across her face as tears began falling faster and faster.
"I'm sorry," Rose whimpered. "I… My, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to know. I…" Her hand covered her mouth, preventing a second sob from escaping. "I'll get dressed and go back to Baker Street." Turning away from him, Rose began hurrying towards the stairs, her mind reeling as she tried to decide if there would ever be a way for her to make up for hurting Mycroft so deeply.
Seeing her scurry away with such devastation in her eyes brought Mycroft to his feet. "Rose! Rosenwyn Aramantha Holmes, come back here now," he ordered.
Biting down hard on her lower lip, Rose tentatively reentered the sitting room, skirting around the edge of it.
Mycroft arched an eyebrow at her. "Come here to me. Right here," he said, pointing to a spot right in front of him.
Her feet seemed to walk of their own accord and Rose soon found herself in front of Mycroft as she tried to figure out what in the world to say to make this better. The tears dripped almost unnoticed from her eyes, sliding down her face. "I wish I could take back everything and-"
"You wish?" Mycroft challenged. "Don't be an idiot, Rose. You were a child in rebellion because your world was turned upside down. A newly turned fourteen year old facing university that coming fall with one brother barely around and the other forcibly removed from you. You reacted as you should have, like the child that you were. When words weren't enough, you tried to make your actions speak and force me to listen. I was…" Mycroft took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he put his hands on her shoulders.
"In truth I was utterly overwhelmed, drowning in one crisis after another at work, worrying endlessly about Sherlock and trying to force him to get help yet again, wrestling with my own guilt at removing him from the house and from you in particular," he admitted. "I needed for you to grow up very quickly and that was a foolish thing to ask for. You were young and needed the family life Sherlock and I together managed to provide somehow. Without it, you were struggling as much as I was."
Sadness and regret warred for dominance in his eyes as Mycroft continued speaking. "Only I couldn't see that, I just saw that you were rebelling and could not for the life of me figure out what was wrong or how to make it better. So I scolded and shouted and disciplined harshly. I said things that I never should have. You may have been acting like a horrible brat at the time but I was not acting like the responsible guardian I should have been and had been in the past."
Tears were streaming down Rose's face as she listened to Mycroft in near disbelief as he said all the things she had wanted to hear for so long but had not dared to ask. "I'm so sorry for everything I did, My. I made bad choices and they were my choices, not yours, nor did you push me into making them. And I'm sorry I couldn't fix us and just left so that we could have space and hope it would fix itself."
Mycroft hugged her tightly, as tight as he possibly dared to. "You ridiculous little idiot," he murmured. "It was my job to fix what happened, not you; never you. I pushed you away and you withdrew accordingly. It's much easier to stop being hurt if you stop trying, stop feeling, and that's just what you did. What we both did, in our own ways. I so very much wish I had seen how much you were hurting and understood why. Our disconnect should never have come to the point that it did and it was never, ever your responsibility to fix that. You were the child, I was the adult and that was my job."
Rose shook her head in dismay. "But My, I-"
"No, Rose," Mycroft cut her off decisively. "No buts, no more sorry. I should have seen that you had not overnight become some sort of hellion. You've always been a good girl; ridiculous, far too mischievous, and sometimes quite foolish, but you've always been a good girl, a good person. I let myself forget that instead of seeing the sudden change as the warning sign that it was meant to be. It is…" He paused to clear his throat. "Something that I am only now beginning to understand and to know how much I hurt you, how much of this was a mess of my own making. I have never, ever regretted anything more in my life than I do pushing you away."
Gently he pulled back and held her at arm's length. "You made mistakes, we both did, and mine were far graver. You've more than paid for those acts of rebellion and I don't ever want you to think of them again. Nor do I want you to doubt for a second that you are loved and that I am immensely proud of the person you have become. Still a lot to learn, you're young, but you are a person that anyone would be proud to have raised, Rose."
Sobbing earnestly now, Rose reached for Mycroft and held on as tightly as she could. Mycroft swayed with her in his arms and waited until her sobs died down before whispering in her ear, "Forgive me; please."
Tilting her head back, Rose looked into his eyes. Normally so sharp and full of purpose as they assessed the world around him, now Mycroft's eyes glittered with raw hurt; perhaps even tears he was far too stubborn to shed. Slowly she nodded her head, maintaining eye contact with him. "I forgive you," Rose whispered. "If you can forgive me too."
In an instant the weight on his heart was gone and relief coursed through Mycroft's veins. "Oh poppet," he murmured, sounding rather hoarse and quite unlike himself. "I forgave you a long time ago, when you were gone and this house was so painfully empty. I know what I said in my office when you first returned must make that seem like a ridiculous and untrue statement.
"Anger is a much easier emotion to deal with than the plethora of other things I felt on your return," Mycroft explained as his face colored slightly. "It is not an excuse, but I want you to understand that you are very much forgiven and that I never meant what I said that day. I… I lashed out at you because there you were, seeming so grown up and assured with everything sorted with no need for me anymore. It's idiotic, but it's the truth."
Rose let out a long-suffering sigh. "Oh My," she murmured, shaking her head. "I will always need you. What precisely I need may change over time, but I will always need you." When the look on his face changed to one of deep contemplation, her brow creased with worry. "What? What's wrong?" Rose asked, a sense of urgency in her tone.
"I'm trying to decide if the fact that you will always need me is a relief or if I should be very afraid," Mycroft quipped as a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Initially caught off guard by the bit of levity in what had been a very tense situation, Rose quickly dissolved into laughter that brought the sparkle back into her eyes and assured Mycroft that all was well between them.
The following morning Mycroft was busily answering emails in his study when strains of music began floating towards the front of the house, alerting him to the fact that Rose was awake. Intending to finish quickly and join her for tea if not a late breakfast, Mycroft mentally groaned as the music grew louder and louder until finally he could take it no longer. Locking the laptop and putting the screen down, Mycroft headed for the source of the music. What he expected to find when the source was located was certainly not what he saw.
With coffee brewing and toast in the toaster, Rose had turned the kitchen into a dance floor. Wearing her soft, black trousers with a wide leg and a gray shirt with the words 'Dance Until You Can't' Rose was doing the cha-cha with her eyes closed to a song on her mobile that he most definitely did not approve of. It certainly didn't help matters that she was singing it at the top of her lungs.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir! Voulez vous coucher avec moi," Rose sang. "He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up. Boy drank all that Magnolia wine. On her black satin sheets is where he—"
"Remember yesterday when I said I missed you?" Mycroft asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music.
Rose let out a shriek and almost fell over, her eyes opening wide to see her scowling big brother standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. She quickly skipped past him and shut off the music.
"I'm reconsidering my feelings on that," Mycroft continued at a much more normal volume. "Because I certainly do not miss you doing the cha-cha in the kitchen to a song about prostitutes. When are you going back to Baker Street?" Moving past Rose and her rapidly reddening face, Mycroft started some tea for himself.
"I'm going back after practice," Rose assured him upon regaining her ability to speak properly. "And it's a really good song, I swear. It's a remake of Patti LaBelle after all. The whole prostitute bit is really irrelevant in terms of dance-ability."
Mycroft merely arched an eyebrow at her before changing the subject. "Are you still interested in getting a driving license? If you are and obtain your permit, you may log your practice hours with me. Just a thought." Surely the experience would be better now than Rose's original attempts to earn her practice hours!
"You're serious?" Rose asked. "That would be great! Thanks! Have breakfast with me and then give me a ride to the studio will you? And you can skip the charades- just park in the lot and follow me inside. No need to drive around for five minutes and then sneak into the viewing room and make me think you aren't there watching me my first day back."
"You're a beastly child," Mycroft grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her. "I would do no such thing."
Rose smirked at him before retrieving a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Of course you wouldn't," she replied in a mock placating tone. "Seriously though, you're welcome to just come in with me. I don't mind if you want to for a bit and be sure I'm not pushing myself too hard. But no interfering! Let me do what I do and trust me, alright?"
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Mycroft nodded his agreement to her terms. "You're going to torture me with horrible songs and vulgar dance moves today, aren't you?"
"Who me? Never!" Rose protested, giving him her most innocent smile.
"Yes you, always," he grumbled before kissing the top of her head and gently nudging her in the direction of her breakfast. Though he grumbled on the outside, Mycroft felt at peace on the inside in a way he hadn't felt for quite some time.
Note: I can't believe it's been so long since I last updated! Life is settling down now that school is done and I plan to do much more frequent updates this summer! I hope this chapter was worth the wait and I've got plans in place for the next one already.
Note 2: Someone suggested a while back that I set up a tumblr account and I seriously can't figure it out. So instead I've set up a pinterest account with boards that correspond to each of the Rose stories featuring images of her outfits, little Rose herself and more! Just go to pinterest and add a slash mark followed by cb1603 to see the boards. They are all up to date, including this chapter's images! Enjoy!