There were moments of raising Rose that Mycroft enjoyed immensely. How excited she looked when he came home, running over to him in that odd half-bounce half-run of hers and demanding he pick her up was one of them. It really was a lovely way to end what were often days filled with boring and tedious responsibilities, and occasionally saving the world from the idiots in charge of its various other portions.

But there were other moments too. Moments when she came for kisses before going to bed; she demanded those, too. At times Mycroft wondered if she had any other tonal qualities at all to her voice. When he could tuck her into bed were lovely moments as well; reading her stories, listening to her reactions to them as he cuddled her close. She always fought so valiantly to stay up for just one more story, but never managed it. Mycroft would kiss the top of her head, tuck the covers in tightly around her, and tell her to sleep well.

Kissing the boo-boos better and seeing her eyes shine brilliantly as she learned new things counted too. There were in fact far too many lovely moments involved in parenting for Mycroft to name. Additionally he would never, ever admit to having any such moments, not even if his life depended on it.

But with all the sweet, fulfilling, and wonderful moments there were less pleasant moments too, such as the one happening this very second. At just that moment, Mycroft was standing in the doorway of his study, his mouth agape as his baby sister wrote on the wall in crayon. Had it not been the wall he would have praised her for spelling her name correctly; they'd been working on that. But this was the wall, and not just any wall, his wall. The wall of his inner sanctum in this house of madness known as the Holmes residence. And that ridiculously adorable little monster was drawing on it! This meant he'd have to be stern with her, which would be a decidedly unhappy moment in the saga that was raising his sister.

Thirty Minutes Prior

"Mmm, yes, that's precisely how you do it poppet," Mycroft encouraged the little girl sitting on his lap. "Yes, that's the R and then comes?"

"O," Rose answered, carefully making the letters. She grasped the pink crayon in her right hand, concentrating hard.

Already a perfectionist, Mycroft couldn't help but think. "No, that one's backwards. The S goes like this." He took the crayon and drew an S, facing the proper direction, on the sheet of paper. "See?"

She nodded and crossed out the first S to write the proper one. "Then E like elephant," she told him as she make the final letter of her name.

"Very good! Such a smart girl," Mycroft praised, giving her a smile. "While most little children are running around stupidly and trying to eat sand, you, Rose Holmes, are learning to read and write at just three years old. I'm very proud of you." And he was too! They'd been working together all week, ever since Rose had barged into his study- he really had to remember to shut the door fully- with a book and said "I wanna read the words in my book."

Rose preened under his praise, giving him an adorable grin. "I write your name too," she told him, beginning to make the letters M and Y.

"What about the rest of it?" he asked, chuckling.

"Not 'portant. My is your name," Rose told him.

"Good god, you already talk with a tone that says 'Isn't that obvious?' We're in trouble," he murmured. "Yes, that is in fact my name. Or what you call me at any rate, and that's what matters."

A familiar voice began calling his other name, however, the one only his mother called him and he never forgot to remind her that he hated it when she did so. "Mikey! Mikey I need your help a minute; can you come into the sitting room?"

Mycroft sighed while Rose scowled. "This is writing time."

"It is, but that's Mummy," he told her. "We'll work on this more later." When she let out a little whine of protest, Mycroft merely kissed her forehead and stood up, carrying her from the room. Shutting the door behind him he placed Rose on her feet. "Go find Sherlock and play with him, hm? I'll come find you soon poppet."

Without waiting for a response, Mycroft headed for the sitting room, leaving his precocious sister in the hallway. With the door to his study not fully closed.

Rose was a Holmes, just like her brothers, and very few things escaped her notice, even if she was just three, and she saw the door wasn't fully closed. When Mycroft walked away, she pushed the door open and entered his office.

It took some effort but Rose climbed up into Mycroft's big desk chair and stood in it while she continued to write. She wrote her name and My's again, then Mummy's. She wrote Cat and Dog too but by then her paper was all filled up.

Rose tossed the paper onto the floor and was delighted to find more paper underneath it. This was fancy paper and her finger traced the seal on it. Paper, however, was paper, no matter how fancy, and she wrote her name all over that one too. And the next seven pieces of paper she could find, each of them ending up on the floor when she was done. Rose moved on from writing names and letters to drawing pictures. Suns with smiles and big trees and flowers like Mummy had in the garden and even her brothers.

The lack of anymore paper, however, presented Rose with a problem. She stood there in the chair and frowned in that way only a Holmes could manage. Suddenly, her solution was right before her! One of the chairs that usually sat near the bookshelf in the office was missing, having recently been taken for repair, leaving a big open space on the floor- and on the wall.

Rose sat in the chair and then slid down to the floor, heading straight for the wall and proceeded to draw all over it in vividly pink crayon.

Present

"Rosenwyn Holmes!" Mycroft said loudly. He watched in satisfaction as the little girl jumped a mile and turned to look at him with wide eyes. Moving further into the room it was then Mycroft saw the papers on the floor. He stopped to pick them up and let out a massive groan when he caught sight of one of them.

"Rosenwyn, the Queen signed this document! The Queen of England and you wrote all over it!" Mycroft shouted. Immediately following his outburst, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Shouting wouldn't help matters and he doubted very much the fact that the queen had signed this particular paper meant anything at all to her.

After taking a few more deep breaths, Mycroft opened his eyes and deposited the papers on his desk before turning to face his sister, who was watching him with wide eyes. That wasn't very surprising, considering he'd never shouted at her before.

"Come here, Rose," he said sternly. Mycroft waited for a moment and when he saw she wasn't moving, he wavered a bit. Had he frightened her? Gentling his voice considerably he tried again. "Rose, come here to me please."

"No!" Rose shouted back at him. "You're mad!"

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I am mad, because you've been naughty and that's unacceptable. We have rules about my study and you've broken them. Come here so we can talk about what you did wrong and how you'll make it better."

Her face growing red, Rose hurled the crayon at him and screamed "NO!"

"You come here now Rose. I'm counting to three and if you don't come over here by the time I say three, you're going to be in very, very big trouble," Mycroft sternly warned her. "One…"

"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!" Rose chanted, stomping her feet.

An eyebrow quirked. "Two." Mere seconds after saying the word, Rose threw herself on the floor and continued screaming.

Mycroft took a deep breath. "And that is most definitely three." He crossed the room, knelt down, and lifted the screaming and flailing monster off the floor to deliver a very light smack to her behind. Mycroft opened his mouth intending to tell her there were more smacks coming if she didn't stop her tantrum, but such words were no longer necessary. Rose had gone completely still and quiet, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are you finished?" he asked sternly.

She nodded her head, her black curls bobbing as she did so.

"No more tantrums, I won't have it. In fact, you're having a time out in the corner right now, not only because you drew on the wall, but because you had a tantrum. You're not a baby Rose, you speak very well and you must use your words and not throw fits because you don't like what I have to say."

Rose immediately started to cry, her little fists grabbing his shirt as she pressed her face against him.

"Of course you cry now," Mycroft muttered. It was so pitiful sounding that he began questioning if a time out was even necessary, before realizing that if he did that, then they'd go through this shrieking nonsense again the next time.

"Rose, really, you aren't going to die, it's just a time out," he grumbled while hugging her tightly for a moment. "You were very naughty and you deserve this time out. Let's get this done with." Mycroft stood up with her in his arms and retrieved a footstool, pushing it into the corner. He promptly sat Rose on it and let go of her, cringing as she began crying even harder now.

"You stay here until I come get you," Mycroft instructed her. "Be a good girl and sit right there." He waited several seconds to see if she'd get up. When it appeared she wouldn't, he crossed the room and sat down in his desk chair.

The next three minutes were the longest of his life, Mycroft was sure of it. Rose cried as if she was being tortured and he felt like a first class arse for being the one to make her cry. The guilt was overwhelming and he had to talk himself out of ending her time out early twice within those three minutes. She really wouldn't learn anything at all if he gave in.

Those three painful minutes did in fact end much to his relief and Mycroft went to release his woeful prisoner. Immediately he picked her up and cuddled her close. Rose pressed her face against his shoulder, one little arm going around his neck, one hand clutching his shirt sleeve.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse!

"Shh, it's alright Rose. There's no need to cry anymore. I'm not mad at you any longer. You were a very, very brave girl for your time out. I know that was hard," he soothed, swaying a bit as he stood there with her in his arms. "Calm down for Mycroft, please? I want to talk with you, but you can't hear me if you're crying." He rubbed her back with one hand, shushing her soothingly for a couple minutes until she quieted.

"Much better," he murmured, kissing her head. He carried her over to his desk chair and sat down, still holding her close.

"Sorry," Rose whispered.

Mycroft gently tipped her head up so they could look at one another. "What are you sorry for poppet?"

"I shouted and threw my crayon at you and I stomped," she whispered.

Halfway there! "Yes you did and those aren't very nice things to do, are they?"

She dutifully shook her head no.

"Are you going to do that again?"

Another head shake, but Mycroft didn't buy it for even a second. There'd be plenty more tantrums in the future and he well knew it, but he didn't say so. Instead he said, "Thank you for apologizing. I forgive you. But that's not the only problem we have, is it?"

Rose snuggled up against his chest even tighter and began playing with one of the buttons on his waistcoat. "No," she said softly. "I colored on the wall."

"There are rules when you play in here that we've talked about before," Mycroft began. "You can only play in here when I'm here. Was I in here?"

She pouted just a bit and shook her head. "No."

"And where do we use color crayons? Do you remember that? I know we've talked about it," he reminded her gently. "Are you supposed to color on the wall?"

"No, just paper." Mycroft would have sworn she let out a sigh as she said it.

"That's right. We color on plain paper- that means paper with nothing on it- and in color books. Not on the walls, the floor, other people, or anywhere else. Do you understand those rules, Rose?"

A nod in the affirmative followed by a meek, "I'm sorry."

"Are you going to do it again?"

"No, My, I promise."

"Good girl," Mycroft praised, hugging her tightly. "You're all forgiven poppet."

"Love you," she whispered, continuing to play with his button.

If it was possible for human beings to melt from emotion, Mycroft knew he would have done it just then. After tantrums, a little swat to the bum, a very traumatic time out and a reminder of the rules, she still loved him.

"I love you too," Mycroft replied, whispering the words in her ear, since they were meant for her and her alone. "I need to do some work now, so you'll have to run along and play Rose."

She let out a little whine and clung possessively to his waistcoat.

"Well, I suppose a few more minutes won't hurt anyone," he muttered to himself. This was the beginning of a slippery slope, Mycroft thought. Too much emotional entanglement, but it was really too late to do anything about it now. Three years too late to be precise.

After another five minutes of cuddles, Mycroft finally managed to convince Rose to go play and watched with a sigh of relief as she ran off to go plague Sherlock. Now it was time to make a phone call, one that wouldn't be particularly fun.

He got up to firmly close the door before picking up his phone and dialing a number very few people in the country had.

"Yes, this is Mycroft Holmes," he began when someone on the other end answered. "That document I retrieved about four hours ago has met with misfortune and I'll regrettably need another copy… Yes, the one Her Majesty signed, please do give her my apologies… What happened? The baby wrote on it… No of course not my baby!" he shouted. "Do I really strike you as someone who would have a baby? It was my baby sister... Are you able to get the document redone and signed or do I need to speak with Her Majesty myself?... Very good. I'll be there in thirty minutes to pick it up. If you value your job it will be ready when I arrive."

When Mycroft arrived at Buckingham Palace precisely twenty-seven minutes later, the document was waiting for him as requested.