NOTE: The Dynamics of Combustion, seen in series 3 episode 3 was written by Mrs. Holmes under the name M. L. Holmes. For my own purposes, I've named her Maud, just because I like it.

The sound of a wailing infant greeted Mycroft as he entered the house, causing him to sigh as he locked the door behind himself. The sound of the wail grew stronger and it wasn't long before said infant and her mother appeared in the entry way while he was still divesting his outdoor clothing.

"Myc! It's so late! Why must they keep you so late?" Maud Holmes inquired with a frown.

"Time zones, Mother," Mycroft answered. "Just because it's the middle of the night here doesn't mean everyone else in the world is sleeping." He closed the distance between them and squeezed his mother's shoulder in a brief show of affection. "Mother, you look awful."

Maud chuckled softly. "Thank you so much dear. That's just what every woman wants to hear."

"I wasn't trying to be insulting," he said, quirking an eyebrow. "I was making a point. You're exhausted. Is she alright?" Mycroft finally spared a look for the little bitty girl in their mother's arms.

"Oh, of course. She's hungry; I've got a bottle warming in the kitchen."

"Why don't you let me take her? I can feed her and put her back in the crib," Mycroft offered. He couldn't help rolling his eyes at the worried look on her face. "I'm here, Father's away, you're exhausted. Surrender the child and go to bed."

Maud laughed once more. "Surrender the child? And you accuse Sherlock of being dramatic." All drama aside, she passed the three week old Rosenwyn Holmes to Mycroft and kissed his cheek. "Thank you Myc. Don't forget to turn the monitor on, hm? And sleep well."

A smile had spread across Mycroft's face as he took Rose into his arms. Her crying had instantly ceased and Rose appeared to be studying him intently. "Hello, little lady. How are you this evening?" he murmured, carrying her into the kitchen. "Your bottle is almost ready. I'm going to feed you so Mother can sleep. She is very tired. You've been keeping her awake too much."

Rose continued to watch him with wide, clear eyes of the most beautiful light blue.

"Yes, I'm well aware you cannot help it," Mycroft assured her. "We've been through this before with Sherlock. Speaking of our brother, I have a feeling you'll end up with a mop of curly hair just like him." Unlike most babies who were born with a bit of peach fuzz for hair, Rose had made her arrival into the world with a good helping of black hair.

When the bottle finished warming, Mycroft tested the temperature before carrying it and Rose into the nursery where he sat down in the rocking chair. "Just in time," he murmured when she began to fuss a bit. The bottle instantly quieted her and he gave the tiny baby another smile. He'd noticed lately that he smiled much more around her than he normally did and hoped no one else was aware of that fact.

"Well, you seem to like your nursery quite well and I'm very glad. Mother had awful ideas for it. Cream walls, everything clean and white and full of lace. Dreadful. You're very lucky I changed her mind," Mycroft decided.

Two Months Earlier

Mycroft sighed heavily. "Mother, this looks more like a hospital than a nursery. I don't believe that was your intention?"

"Oh Myc," Maud sighed. "She's a little girl, lace is completely appropriate you know."

"It's not so much the lace I object to, it's the whole of it. You know, the books I've been reading-" He paused, giving his mother a scowl as she started laughing. "As I was saying," Mycroft continued when she finished. "The books I've been reading say that colors and patterns are excellent for stimulating a baby's mind."

"What has gotten into you?" Maud inquired, not sounding the least upset. "You were never this way with Sherlock. Why are you so concerned now?"

"Do you really need to ask? We don't want another Sherlock, now do we?"

She was frowning at him now. "That's very unkind Mycroft."

"The truth does hurt."

"So your goal is to be certain she's much more like you than Sherlock? You do realize this will be my third child? And that I don't think there's anything wrong with Sherlock?"

"Precisely why I need to be concerned. Things went so well with me and then… Well, it's all been very unfortunate," Mycroft decided, referencing his brother once more.

"I can't say I won't be grateful for your help," Maud admitted. "With your father away working so often, and Sherlock being the curious child that he is, I'll need your help."

"I'm aware of that and, obviously, not opposed to it."

"When she's big enough to understand, I'm going to tell her all about this. How much you loved her before she was even born and how excited you were to make things just right," Maud decided, giving him a smile.

"That, Mother, is not amusing. Don't you dare tell her any such thing!"

Present

"I think it turned out quite well," Mycroft decided, surveying the nursery. Two walls were painted a cheerful red as an accent, the other two left white. The room had a ladybug theme, hence the red accent walls. "The ladybugs, I'll have you know, were not my idea. I did not approve, but Mother insisted upon it. I meant a pattern, not oddly disproportionate insects with sickly sweet smiles. But, it wasn't white and lacy, so I consider it a triumph just the same."

He was certain Rose was listening to his every word and he could practically see the intelligence in her eyes. She was going to be a smart little thing when she got older and he'd teach her all sorts of things. All the things Father wouldn't have the time to teach her, regardless of how much he might like to.

When Rose finished the bottle he began burping her, bracing for the potential spit-up and smiling when it didn't come. "You're a good girl Rose," Mycroft praised. "Not that it's necessarily wrong for a baby to spit-up, I would just prefer you don't do that to me, especially when I'm in a work suit. And I don't think you care at all what I'm saying right now, do you?" Her eyelids were growing heavier and Mycroft settled back and began gently rocking her.

"Now, see you're the sort of baby I like. Sherlock was terrible, truly. Always screaming for attention and when he got it, he'd continue to scream so you'd never put him down. Not much has changed in that regard, to be honest. But you're a very good girl, aren't you?" He looked down at her and smiled yet again.

"You're much better behaved already and smarter, too. You cry when you need something, precisely as you ought, and then you just watch the world with those pretty eyes when your needs have been met. You're taking it all in, everything around you, content as can be."

He gently rubbed a tiny hand with his thumb before leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I want you to know Rosenwyn, and yes, I'm calling you Rosenwyn right now because I wish for you to pay attention."

She merely blinked sleepily at him in response.

"I want you to know I'll always be here for you and love you," Mycroft whispered, as if they were sharing a secret. "The world is a scary place sometimes, but you don't need the data on that just now. Only know that I will always take care of you."

Falling silent, Mycroft continued to rock her until he was certain Rose was sleeping. Then, very carefully, he carried her to the crib and placed her in it. "Goodnight little one," he whispered. After making certain the baby monitor was turned on, Mycroft left the room and headed to his own, more than ready for some sleep.