It was a typical Thursday: the Holmes siblings had conquered the dining room. Seventeen year old Sherlock worked on an experiment and six year old Rose did her homework. The two siblings worked next to one another, though with a few feet between them, just in case. After all, Rose might just die if Sherlock got something icky on her, or so she was fond of telling him. His response was always "Hmm. Go away then," which translated to "Move three feet away then."

Homework time always came first after school, that was one of Mycroft's rules, and Rose never cared too much or even needed such a rule. She was a diligent student, often not challenged enough in school, hence her moving ahead two academic years at the start of school that fall. Homework tantrums didn't exist, because they were wholly unnecessary. Reminders to do homework were equally unnecessary, especially since it never took her very long to complete her assignments.

Something was distinctly different on this particular Thursday evening. Sherlock had been watching her out of the corner of his eye and she'd spent the last twenty minutes staring at a blank project board. Creative projects were something she generally excelled at, so it was puzzling indeed that she was staring so intently at the board as if willing something to appear.

He watched her discreetly as he continued his own work and wasn't entirely surprised when things suddenly became very dramatic in the dining room. Rose let out a frustrated yell, picked up the poster board and threw it as hard as she could, watching it land on the floor. Before he could say a word, she was up out of her chair, stomping on it.

"You are clearly displeased Rose. What is wrong?" Sherlock asked, turning his full attention to his little sister. Her face was flushed red and she rewarded his gentle questioning with a dark scowl; the sort of scowl only a Holmes could give. It was so unfortunate she looked so adorable when she scowled in that fashion, because Sherlock had to try very hard not to laugh.

"I don't want your help Sherlock! Or your comments or anything at all! Just leave me alone!" Rose shouted, her tone full of anger.

An eyebrow quirked as she turned and stomped out of the room. Sherlock heaved a dramatic sigh and got up to follow her.

Rose didn't fancy being followed and led him on a merry chase through the upstairs and downstairs of the house until finally he tackled her, albeit gently, onto the floor in the sitting room. He promptly began tickling her mercilessly.

"Nooooooo! Sherlock stop!" Rose squealed, squirming around, batting playfully at his hands. "I want to be angry!"

"Well you can't be," Sherlock responded evenly. "So I'm just going to tickle you until you can't possibly manage to be angry any longer, and then you're going to tell big brother what is bothering you so I can make it better."

It only took a few moments of very earnest tickling until Rose began to laugh and really wiggle around. Her whole face lit up, the anger dissolving in front of his eyes, leaving behind the giggly silly little thing he proudly called 'sister.'

"I surrender! Oh my god Sherlock! Stop! Ahhhhhh!"

And just like that, Sherlock stopped and lifted her up from the floor. "Now let's talk, hm? Yes, I know, you're going to frown again, but you should really keep that in check. I will tickle you to death if I have to," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"That would rather defeat the purpose, the death part," she responded quietly. When he sat on the couch and plopped her into his lap, Rose snuggled close, enjoying the comfort of being held close.

"What's wrong? You never get stroppy over homework," Sherlock pointed out. "So something must be dreadfully wrong and I'd like to help. You know how Mycroft gets when you don't do your homework. Lectures for hours."

She let out a sigh and began playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. "I don't want to go to school tomorrow."

"Are you being bullied again? I will kick that nasty boy and his cronies all the way down the street if they're bothering you again," Sherlock said vehemently. He was relieved when Rose shook her head, indicating was not the problem. Unfortunately, she didn't elaborate any further either.

"I cannot read your mind, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "At least not all the time. You'll have to tell me. Mycroft won't let you stay home unless you're sick."

"I have a project due tomorrow and I didn't do it because I don't want to do it, because it's really, really stupid," Rose blurted out.

That, Sherlock thought, was not the answer he'd expected. "Is it too hard? I can help," he offered. Again, she shook her head. "Why is it stupid? And what's that poor presentation board in the dining room got to do with it?"

Rose didn't respond, and didn't seem inclined to do so anytime soon.

Gently he took her chin in his hand and lifted her head up so he could look into her eyes. "Rose, I really must insist you tell me. Please don't make me be stern; you know I don't like that. I'm the fun brother."

She wrinkled her nose. "Not always."

"Brat," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "I'm quite serious though. One last chance to tell me and then I'll have to do… something. Do something about it and neither of us will like it." God only knew what that would be, but he could think of something on the fly if he had to.

"I don't have a Daddy, I have a Mycroft," Rose whispered.

That… was not what he'd expected; Sherlock had to admit to himself. It was an odd little statement, but clearly it meant something very important to Rose. "If you ever tell anyone I said this, you will never sit again. Understand me? And considering you're only six, that's a very, very long time. Think carefully." His eyes sparkled as he made this empty threat with a straight face.

Rose looked up at him and giggled. "Alright, I promise!"

"I don't have any idea what you mean sweetheart. You've got to explain that to me, please," Sherlock whispered.

"We're doing projects, at school, about our families and it's stupid I think," Rose began. "Because I don't have a daddy to talk about."

"Well… you do have a daddy, or did have a daddy, that you could talk about. But that's very hard isn't it, because you don't remember him," he surmised. "So why don't you make your project about Mummy?"

She sighed heavily. "I did Mummy last week."

"What about me? Aren't I the greatest brother that ever lived and worthy of my very own project designed by the amazing Rosenwyn Aramantha Holmes?" he asked, his eyes going wide as he deliberately teased her. Rose smiled- success!

"Of course! But it's not your turn yet," Rose explained. "But you are very wonderful and the greatest brother ever. Though Mycroft is okay too."

"Just okay?"

Rose nodded, giggling.

"I feel my very existence has been vindicated, because I am clearly the better brother in this house," Sherlock decided, tickling her tummy just a bit.

"But Sherlock, that's the problem! It's not time for brothers and sisters and pets yet, and we did one parent last week, and I don't have any more parents. Just Mycroft. I have a Mycroft," she explained.

Sherlock kissed the top of her head. "We do indeed have a Mycroft, mores the pity. But I suppose he's ours and people would miss him if we sent him away, so we'd best keep him."

"I would miss him if we sent him away," Rose whispered. She wiggled around in his lap, readjusting her position so she could look him in the face. "What am I going to do Sherlock? If I go to school without my project done, I'll get a bad grade and then Mummy will be sad and Mycroft will scold. But, if I try to stay home and say I'm sick, that's telling lies, and even if My believes me, I'll know it's a lie and it won't feel good."

"Oh my darling, you really must get rid of this moral compass of yours," Sherlock whispered, kissing her cheek. "It will only limit your advancement in this world."

"Mmhm. But that doesn't make a project, if I have one or not," she pointed out.

The solution was very obvious, and had in fact occurred to him immediately upon her explanation of the problem. Sherlock had hoped she would make the connection on her own, but clearly her conflicting emotions over what she believed were her only options was getting in the way.

"I really think there's only one good solution here. It will keep you out of trouble with everyone and give you a project to talk about tomorrow. You will have to do it on Mycroft," Sherlock announced.

"But he's-"

"Not your Daddy, I'm aware. You had a very wonderful Daddy, who loved you very much and missed you when he wasn't here," Sherlock told her truthfully. "But he didn't teach you how to read, did he?"

"No. Mycroft did," Rose admitted.

"And how to make letters and write your name?"

"My did."

"And who checks for monsters under your bed after loudly refusing to do anything so very silly?" Sherlock asked.

Rose smiled brightly. "My does! But it's a secret; we don't talk about it to anyone. Shhh," she cautioned, putting a finger to her lips. "He made me promise. You have to promise now too."

Sherlock nodded. "That is very much a secret and I won't say a word, promise."

"I'll do my project on My, and it will be just as good as everyone else's," Rose decided with a determined look.

"That's my smart girl," Sherlock praised. "Should we go look at the one you made for Mummy and get some ideas for your new one?"

"Yes! It's in my room."

Sherlock stood with her in his arms and carried her upstairs. "Do you ever gain any weight? You weigh nothing at all. Too much dancing," he teased. "Look, I can throw you in the air and you'll go so high!" He promptly stopped and tossed her into the air, easily catching her as she came down, grinning at her squeal of delight.

"There's never too much dancing. The world would be so much happier if everybody danced," Rose told him. "Someday, when I'm a big, I'm going to write a very intelligent paper about it that lots of important and intelligent people will read."

"And what will you call it? Surely such an important work has a title already." Sherlock loved the way Rose's mind worked; it was so different from the way his did at times, and yet she was so very bright, her intelligence unhampered by her sentiments. He never ceased to be impressed with her ideas. She'd make the world a much better place if even 1/16th of them were realized.

"It does," Rose confirmed. "The Waltz That Will Save the World. That's what I'll call it and it will be very, very smart. And people will say "We would like to speak with that girl, Rose Holmes, because she has an utterly brilliant but mad plan. So mad it just might work!" And of course it will!"

"I'd expect nothing less," Sherlock assured her. He paused outside her bedroom door and looked into her eyes, mere inches from his own. "You can do anything you want to do, Rosie. You're smart enough and good enough, and never let anyone say otherwise. Promise?"

She nodded, looking as solemn as a six year old could possibly look. "Promise." Rose leaned forward just a bit, until the tips of their noses touched. "Eskimo kisses," she whispered.

Sherlock promptly feigned dropping her onto the floor, catching her at the last minute to let her land on her feet while she squealed in delight. "That, young lady, is completely unacceptable. There are no kisses allowed, most especially those kinds of kisses."

Rose stuck her tongue out at him and then proceeded to giggle as he playfully swatted her bum.

"You're an awful brat, but you're my favorite brat in the whole wide world," Sherlock said, giving her a smile.

"You're my favorite too. My very favorite Sherlock in the whole wide world," Rose promised.

"Well, what do you think?" Sherlock asked, peering at her completed project.

Rose smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. "We did a very nice job. I'm proud of us," she decided. The poster board had recovered from being stomped on and now featured an array of photographs, a few mementos, and lots of writing about each item in bright blue ink.

"My likes blue, right?" she asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"It's not pink so that's immediately a point in your favor," he teased. "I think he'll like the blue just fine. You made a very smart choice to avoid the glitter."

"I'm not going to show it to My tonight. I'm going to wait and show it to him tomorrow I think, as a surprise. He likes nice surprises." She wiggled out of his arms and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thanks for helping me Sherlock," Rose said sincerely before kissing his cheek.

"All part of the job," Sherlock murmured. His phone chirped and Sherlock opened it to read the text. "Apparently our big brother has been chained to his desk for this evening. You know what this means, don't you?"

Rose grinned brightly. "Ice cream for supper!"

"Ice cream for supper," he confirmed, returning her smile. "Let's see what we have in the freezer."

"You do that; I'll look in the pantry for fixings! Hooray, ice cream for supper! My very favorite supper in the world!" Rose scurried off to the pantry to search for toppings.

"The joy of sincere work and worthy aspiration and congenial friendship were to be hers; nothing could rob her of her birthright of fancy or her ideal world of dreams. And there was always the bend in the road! God's in his heaven, all's right with the world, whispered Anne softly." Sherlock closed the book and looked down at his sleepy sister with a smile.

"That was a lovely book," Rose murmured, her eyes heavy. "We'll have to get the next one straight away."

"We will, but not tonight," Sherlock responded. "Now it's time to get you tucked into bed." He got up from the bed and watched her burrow under the covers before tucking them in tightly around her.

Rose reached for her teddy and held it close. "Good night Sherlock. I love you."

He leaned down and brushed curls away from her forehead before giving her a kiss. "Good night Rose."

The following day Rose was more than ready for presentations to begin at school. They weren't scheduled until after lunch and she just barely made it until it was time to begin!

"It's time for the presentations everyone," Mrs. Parsons announced. "Do we have any volunteers to go first?"

Rose's hand was up before her teacher had even finished the sentence!

"Rose has volunteered, come on up with your project," Mrs. Parsons encouraged.

Beaming brightly, Rose retrieved her poster board and carried up to the front of the room to place on the easel. "I know we've got a special order we're doing these presentations in," she began. "Parents or guardians and then siblings and pets next. So today, I was supposed to talk about my daddy, since I talked about my Mummy last week. Only… I don't have a daddy."

Mrs. Parsons frowned a bit, feeling confused.

"My daddy died when I was only two and I really don't remember him at all," Rose explained. "But I do have a Mycroft, my oldest brother and he does lots of important things with me and he's the closest thing I have to a daddy. So I'm going to tell you about him today."

Mycroft Holmes looked up from the endless pile of paperwork he had to sort out when his intercom buzzed.

"Sir, there's a call from Rose's teacher for you," his PA said.

He let out a groan. "Put it through." There was a pause while the call was transferred. "Mycroft Holmes," he answered.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, this is Georgina Parsons, Rose's teacher," the woman at the other end said.

"And what in god's name has she done this time and do I need to come retrieve her?" he asked.

There was a bit of a pause. "No, no, nothing like that," Georgina assured him. "I wanted to speak with you just briefly about the project she turned in today. We, meaning myself and the school, were unaware of her unique situation-"

"And what does that mean?" Mycroft was getting impatient but tried to keep it out of his tone as much as possible.

"That you're her eldest brother and not her father."

That wasn't what he'd expected to hear t all! "Oh. Yes, that is in fact the case. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well we've been doing projects on our family, to practice speaking in front of people and Rose presented on you today. I was really just calling to say that we are now alerted that you aren't her father, and to let you know she did a really outstanding job. You should be very proud of her, it was the best presentation of the day," Georgina told him.

Mycroft was frowning, but naturally she couldn't see that over the phone. He'd had no idea Rose was giving family presentations, let alone that one was about him. "I appreciate your call, Mrs. Parsons. It's always refreshing to hear about Rose's excellent behavior and achievements."

"You're very welcome. Have a lovely weekend Mr. Holmes. Goodbye."

Mycroft pressed the button on his intercom. "Do I have any appointments booked for the remainder of the day?"

"No, sir."

"Then I'm taking this mess home to work on. You know how to reach me if anything should arise."

"Very good sir."

Rose looked up when a knock sounded on her open bedroom door. "Hi My," she greeted. "Homework's almost done, promise!"

He gave her a bit of a smile. "I'm sure it is. Come sit with me a minute." Mycroft moved across the room and sat on her bed, waiting for her to join him. "I had a call from Mrs. Parsons today," he began.

Rose took a deep breath. "I don't know why, I was very good today," she said, giving him a pout.

"It wasn't regarding anything of that nature," he admitted. "She called to tell me about a project you've been working on and presented today and I had no idea what she was talking about. However, she said you did a wonderful job."

She beamed brightly. "Did you want to see it?" When he nodded, Rose bounded back downstairs and retrieved the poster board from the sitting room and brought it upstairs. She propped it on the bed, leaning against the wall for him to look at.

It was littered with photographs and detailed captions and he looked at each in turn. The photo of them on her first birthday- that had been a particularly uncomfortable moment, when she'd called him 'dada' while their father was standing right there. Leave it to mother to have that exact moment captured for all eternity. In another, they were in the backyard and he was holding her hands as she tried to walk. Her very first day at school, clutching the teddy bear he'd given her tightly in one hand, while he held the other. Sherlock had taken that one, and Mycroft looked far more anxious than their mother did.

Each photograph evoked a specific memory, making him smile as he remembered them all. The birthday card from the Queen made him chuckle, as did her caption. I was at Buckingham Palace with Mycroft when he visited the Queen. I was four and she made me tea and every year I get a birthday card from her.

Mycroft took his time looking at every single detail, feeling an overwhelming sense of sentiment at it all. God how he hated when that happened, and Rose was always so good at making it happen!

"Do you like it?" Rose asked softly after a few moments of quiet had passed.

"I do," he assured her. "Very much." Mycroft reached out a hand and took her's, pulling her closer to him so he could wrap an arm around her. "I'm very impressed and very… touched, my dear. More than I can say, in fact."

"I was really proud to tell everyone about you today. Though I sort of let them think you're a bit like James Bond, because that's cooler than the fact that you pretty much have a whole bunch of James Bond's working for you. Everyone likes Bond better than they do M," she explained.

Mycroft could only stare at her for a moment before he hugged her tight and laughed long and hard. "Oh my dear, you are…" he tried to find the right word amid his laughter.

"Lovely? Wonderful? Amazing?" Rose offered, giving him a big smile.

He waited until he got his laughter under control before finishing his thought. "My dear, you are undoubtedly the highlight of my every day," he whispered. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it to my last breath."

Rose hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. "Your secret's safe with me," she promised.