NOTE: In a previous chapter, I named Mrs. Holmes Maud. I've now named Mr. Holmes William, which explains why Sherlock went by Sherlock.

Mycroft, Age 10 and ½

An eyebrow arched, he surveyed his parents with a look of disdain. "A baby? Why would we want one of those? They're beastly."

His parents had the nerve to laugh at him. "Oh Mikey, babies are wonderful. You were a baby once," Maud Holmes pointed out. "Wouldn't you like to have someone to play with?"

"Babies are not wonderful. They are loud, obnoxious, and often smell. They also shove things into their mouths that have no business being there," Mycroft stated. "A baby is a very bad idea. If you're concerned that I'm lonely, there is a much easier solution. I want a puppy. Let's have one of those instead."

Seven Months Later

Mycroft tiptoed through the hall of the hospital as he made his way toward his mother's room. Mother had had the baby late last night and Mycroft had been foisted off on the nearest neighbor. Already the baby was inconveniencing his life and Mycroft hadn't even met it yet! When his father gave him a look, Mycroft plastered a smile on his face before entering the room.

"You look very tired. I told you a baby was a terrible idea," Mycroft stated in that all-too-adult tone of his.

Sometimes Maud and William Holmes couldn't even remember a time when Mycroft hadn't sounded like that.

"Bringing a baby into the world isn't an easy thing," Maud said patiently. "But that's not important just now. Come meet your brother. You'll get to play with him when he grows bigger." She waved her eldest child over to the bed to peek at the infant in her arms.

"Hello," Mycroft greeted it formally. "What's his name?"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Of course we'll call him Sherlock, since Daddy's name is William," Maud explained. "Do you want to hold him?"

Mycroft shook his head. "When can I have a puppy?"

William rolled his eyes. "You have a brother; you don't need a puppy Mycroft."

"Well he looks rather useless, if you ask me," Mycroft decided.

"We didn't ask," William countered, pinching his son's arm in warning. "And you will love him because he's your brother, and he will love you for the same reason."

"I'd rather have a puppy Father."

Given Mycroft's thoughts at the time of Sherlock's birth it was a wonder he ever paid any attention to the little boy. Funnily enough, he did come to love that brother of his.

Three Months Before Rose's Birth

Mycroft stood in a local bookstore, scanning the shelves with his eyes. Who would have imagined that so many books could exist on one topic? How hard could parenting really be? Well, if one's child was Sherlock, there would need to be a great many books.

Aside from his pesky younger brother, however, children really couldn't be that complicated, but if the books were anything to go by, there was a great deal to consider. And he, Mycroft Holmes, would consider and prepare and be a very well read person before the latest Holmes entered the world in approximately three months time. After all, he didn't want this one turning out like Sherlock!

Not to mention Father was very rarely home anymore it seemed. Mycroft was, as ever, a realist. Mother's health wasn't always the best and on a certain level he had considered carrying and birthing another child to be a poor decision for her physical wellbeing. For some reason, Mother had been offended when he'd said that, and he hadn't bothered to ask why.

The point, however, was that Mother was unlikely to be able to care for a newborn all on her own and Father was unlikely to stay home for very long after said newborn made her appearance into the world. Thus, it would fall to him to be the defacto parent for the coming child. He had accepted this and decided to be the best possible older brother-parent he could be. This was how he had been led here, to the bookstore, and to this massive section of books on children.

Two hours later, Mycroft had picked out ten of what seemed to be the most helpful of the forty books or so he'd briefly skimmed. He'd have them all read by tomorrow, provided nobody threatened to blow anything up in the next twenty-four hours. One could always hope!

Making his way to the register, Mycroft put the books on the counter and waited his turn. Oh, how he hated waiting!

"Hello, sir," the young female cashier greeted him. "Oh, are you expecting a little one? How exciting! Boy or a girl?"

"Girl," he answered absentmindedly. The only thing he hated more than waiting was inane chatter and small talk.

"Aw, that's so sweet. Wow, that's a lot of books. First one?"

"Yes."

She smiled, not the least bit put off by his sharp tone. "Have you picked out a name yet?'

"I'm certain my mother will name her something suitably ridiculous enough to blend in with the rest of the family."

An awkward bit of silence followed as Mycroft realized how odd that statement was and the cashier tried to think of a suitable way to respond.

"I'll be raising my little sister, who is very much an accidental and unplanned child. She'll be welcome just the same," Mycroft finally said.

"Oh. Father not in the picture?"

He fought to keep the irritation from his voice as he responded. "Not really, no."

The cashier gave him a smile and Mycroft couldn't begin to fathom why. "She'll be a very lucky little girl to have a big brother like you," the young lady said sincerely.

Three Months Later- 20 December

Much like Sherlock, the newest Holmes made her arrival in the world in the wee hours of the morning. 5:47am to be precise.

Father had phoned home the good news, completely unsurprised to find both his sons awake at that time of the morning, and knowing full well it was not because they were anxious to hear about the baby. "Bring Sherlock in this afternoon to see her. She's a lovely little thing. A perfect English rose," William said proudly. "Mother is well and sends her love to you both."

Mycroft did just as he was asked and dutifully came to the hospital with Sherlock in tow that afternoon. While Sherlock had rather been looking forward to a new sibling, he hadn't been thrilled to be bodily dragged away from his latest experiment.

"Were you excited when I was born, Mycroft?"

The elder Holmes child shook his head. "Not a bit. I wanted a puppy, but instead I got you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and was about to respond in kind when they came upon their mother's hospital room and he immediately assumed a very innocent look.

"Boys, how lovely that you came to see us," Maud greeted. "She's even awake for you to greet her properly, isn't that nice? Oh, what have you got Mikey?"

Today, given how exhausted his mother looked, Mycroft decided to forego the usual snide comment about that ridiculous nickname. "For the baby," he said, offering the little pink bag to her.

Maud pulled out the little teddy bear with a smile. It was brown, wearing a pink footed sleeper with a little white collar and was absolutely precious. "Thank you boys!"

"No, that's just from Mycroft. I got the baby something else." Sherlock produced a soft pink receiving blanket, covered in little white stars.

"Oh Mother, please do not start crying," Mycroft grumbled when his mother started sniffling.

"Here Mikey, hold the baby," Maud decided, passing the tiny little girl over.

A beautiful, sweet face peeked out at him from the blanket. Her eyes were wide open and she was studying him intently. Surprisingly thick black hair stood out starkly from the yellow ducky blanket she was wrapped in.

"She's so small," Sherlock commented. "Are babies always that small? Was I that small?"

"No, you were about four inches longer," William answered. "Both you boys were tall. She'll be a little thing."

"What's her name?" Mycroft asked. He sat in a chair by the bed and cuddled the newborn close.

"Rosenwyn Aramantha."

Sherlock looked absolutely horrified. "That's a really stupid name," he decided. A few seconds later the eleven year old yelped and rubbed the back of his head, glaring daggers at Mycroft.

"Boys, be kind to each other," William admonished.

With a sigh, Sherlock turned to look at the baby once more. "That's a really big name Mummy. How can you give her such a big name when she's so small? I'm never going to call her that."

"What will you call her then?" Maud asked indulgently.

"Rose. That's much better for her I think. Less stupid, easier to say, and it fits her better," Sherlock explained.

"Actually that's not a bad idea," Mycroft said, taking them all by surprise when he agreed with his younger brother. "Rose should suit her just fine. What do you think?" he asked the baby.

The little bundle blinked at him before closing her eyes and falling fast asleep. "I do believe the young lady in question agrees to the usage of that nickname," Mycroft decided.

Age 3 Months

"Mother, where's Rose? And where's Sherlock for that matter?" Mycroft asked one Saturday morning.

"They're playing together," Maud said with a smile. "Sherlock took her to have tummy time in his room. They were reading last time I checked."

An eyebrow quirked. "Are you certain that's a good idea?"

"I don't see why not. He takes very good care of her. Go see for yourself. I'm going to have a cuppa." Maud kissed Mycroft's cheek and disappeared into the kitchen.

Sighing heavily Mycroft headed upstairs, determined to track down his siblings, ready to murder one if harm had come to the baby. It turned out, however, that he was quite pleasantly surprised.

Sherlock was lying on his stomach on the floor next to Rose, who was lying on her stomach on a blanket. "Hmm. That's not quite correct, but I do think you understand the concept. Or, if you don't, I'll help you when you're bigger and Mummy says you're old enough for experiments. Chemistry is really quite fascinating, don't you agree?"

The little baby cooed around the fist she had in her mouth, eyes focused on the textbook her big brother was holding.

"You cannot possibly think she understands a word of that, Sherlock," Mycroft commented gently. "She merely likes the sound of your voice."

"But baby's minds are like sponges," Sherlock protested. "You told me that, you read it in one of those silly books of yours on bringing up babies."

"They are, but I think chemistry is a bit out of her grasp just now."

"Why are you bothering us, Mycroft? We're bonding. Go away."

Rose made noises, almost as if she agreed with Sherlock, and Mycroft chuckled.

"You worry when I've got her, don't you? I know I'm eleven and you're older than dirt, but I'm not going to hurt her," Sherlock pointed out. "I'm very careful with her. She's my sister too, Mycroft. I won't ever hurt her."

Grudgingly, the eldest brother nodded. "I know. I always worry about her though, and not just with you. Just in general, and I think I always will. We'll have to take care of her, Sherlock, together." Mycroft crossed the room and picked up the baby, cuddling her against his shoulder.

"How are you, Rose?" he asked, rubbing her back. "Were you having tummy time? Building all those muscles up, it's good for you."

"We've been reading," Sherlock said, moving to sit closer to Mycroft. "I read her other things first. A book about a bunny with a stupid name."

"Oh, was it about a bunny named Sherlock?" Mycroft teased.

"Rose, I'm going to tell you a very important thing right now. Are you listening?" Sherlock asked. The baby turned her head at the sound of Sherlock's voice, making her brother smile. "I'm the fun brother and Mycroft is the mean one. Don't forget that!"

Age 7.5 Months

The Holmes house had permanently erupted in chaos. It's youngest member, Rose, was on the move and practically unstoppable. She'd learned to crawl two weeks ago and had become proficient enough that she could move quite quickly. Very little was beyond her ability to access it and nearly everything she touched was promptly put in her mouth.

The chaos that was Rose was currently on the loose, crawling down the front hallway. Mycroft, on the phone with the French ambassador in his office, spotted the renegade in her yellow footed sleeper crawling past his door. He placed the ambassador on hold and exited the study to capture Rose, who giggled and wriggled in his arms.

"Where are Mother and Sherlock, hm?" Mycroft settled Rose on his hip and looked down the hallway. "It would seem you've escaped whoever was watching you. I suppose you'll just have to stay with me." He brought her back into his study and placed her in the playpen he kept in there. It was well stocked with books and toys, which immediately drew her attention, allowing him to return to the phone.

The conversation resumed in French while Rose played with her toys quietly for a few minutes. It wasn't long before the baby started talking to herself, or perhaps to the stuffed toys, in what Mycroft was certain was the loudest of voices.

"Is that a child I hear? Where are you exactly Mycroft?" the ambassador asked.

"I'm attempting to work from home, obviously a mistake. And yes, that is a child. My younger sister escaped her captors and is currently having a very serious conversation with a stuffed dog," Mycroft responded with a sigh.

The ambassador laughed. "This isn't life or death Mycroft. Call me back in an hour. I have little ones of my own, I know how they are."

"If you're certain."

"I am."

The two men said their goodbyes and Mycroft hung up the phone before turning his attention back to Rose. He crossed the room and lifted her out of the playpen, unable to resist smiling when she patted his cheek and began talking to him. "I was speaking with the French ambassador Rose, were you aware of that? Yes, I'm gathering that you don't care about that even a little bit. Silly girl."

The baby laughed and then reached out her arms for Sherlock when he came running into the room.

"She got away from me; I don't know how it happened!"

"She crawls, Sherlock, you must watch her every minute. She's not old enough to know what is and isn't safe and cannot be left to her own devices like that," Mycroft scolded.

Sherlock scowled at his brother before taking Rose and cuddling her close. "He's the mean brother, Rose, remember that. Come on, story time and then I'm going to tuck you in. Mummy said it's my turn."

Mycroft watched them leave, shaking his head.

Age 9 months

Today, the world had not blown itself up or even come near to it. Everyone behaved properly for the most part, he'd met with the Queen for the first time and their meeting had gone well, and he'd received his second promotion this year. Already he was becoming an integral and indispensible part of the government, just as he'd always planned to be. The new office was quite nice as well, but he was undecided at present if he would keep his current PA, who had a tendency to babble and couldn't quite seem to work the intercom properly. Perhaps a few more days would even the young woman out.

As a bit of celebration, Mycroft had left the office at precisely 5pm, much earlier than he usually went home. His sleek black car and blissfully silent driver whisked him back home and he retrieved the key from his pocket to let himself in the door. Once he was inside, he was shocked at what he saw.

There in the sitting room, Rose grabbed hold of the coffee table and pulled herself up onto her legs and then began toddling around. Mycroft held his breath for a moment, hoping she wouldn't fall and smack her head into something, but she was steadier than he'd anticipated.

Dropping his things there in the entry, Mycroft moved closer to the sitting room, smiling when Rose caught sight of him, her little face lighting up. "Well look at you Poppet, such a big girl," he murmured, stopping just outside the room. He went down on one knee and held his arms out. "Come here. Come to me Rose. You can do it. I know it's quite a distance for someone as little as you, but you can do it poppet. Come here."

Rose called out excitedly and began moving towards him. Slowly but surely she walked all the way across the sitting room and right into his arms.

Mycroft was sure he'd never been more proud in all his life. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close and kissing her cheek. "Well done poppet. I'm so very proud of you," he said quietly. "You're growing up so fast. Slow down just a bit, hm? I don't want to miss everything while I'm at work."

The baby merely responded by giving him a wet kiss on the cheek and snuggling against his chest. Maud Holmes, ever ready with a camera, snapped a photograph of the two of them. Mycroft rewarded her with a bit of a scowl, which she completely ignored, smiling brightly in return.

20 December- 1st Birthday

"Will she get to eat all that cake?" Sherlock asked his mother.

Maud looked up from frosting the cake in question and smiled at her youngest son. "No, of course not. We'll give her a piece and she'll mash most of it up and eat a bit of it. The rest is for us."

"Are you going to take pictures? You should, it makes Mycroft so annoyed when you take pictures of him smiling with Rosie," Sherlock reminded her with a smirk.

"And you delight in his discomfort Sherlock, I'm well aware," she chuckled.

"Are you excited for your birthday, Rosie?" Sherlock asked the baby. He smiled when she giggled and walked over to him. "Want to play peek-a-boo?"

The sound of the front door opening caught her attention and Rose squealed in delight when Mycroft and their father appeared in the kitchen a moment later. She ran right over to Mycroft and attached herself to his leg for a moment before holding her arms up.

Mycroft laughed and picked her up. "Hello birthday girl."

"Hi dada," Rose answered. Everyone in the room froze for a moment; she'd just indentified Mycroft as dada in front of her father. She'd never done that before and of course she'd have to do it now, in front of her mostly absent but loving father.

The camera went off, capturing the moment of discomfort forever. William Holmes tried not to look too disappointed, considering he wasn't home very often.

"Baby, aren't you precious," Maud said, finally breaking the silence. "But that's not Daddy. That's Mikey! Can you say Mikey? Mikey."

"Mother, don't get her started on that," Mycroft grumbled. "My name is Mycroft and I don't understand why it is so difficult for you to say the name you gave me."

Maud moved closer to her children and rubbed Rose's cheek with her hand. "Say Mikey, Rose. Mikey. My-key. Sound it out," she encouraged.

Rose scrunched up her face as if thinking hard about what her mother was saying. "Icky?" She asked before looking up at Mycroft. "Icky?"

"Yes, darling, very good!" Maud praised.

Sherlock began laughing, and laughing, and laughing. He laughed so hard he fell off his chair and was practically rolling around on the kitchen floor. "That's hilarious! Mycroft is now Icky. That's superb Rose, really it is. I'm so proud! Say it again! Who is that?" he asked, pointing at Mycroft.

"Icky!" No question this time as Rose said the name proudly, knowing she had it correct this time.

"Great job!" Sherlock cheered, clapping his hands. Rose giggled and followed along, clapping her hands too.

"Icky. Icky. Icky." She gave Mycroft a brilliant smile and put her little arms around his neck for a hug.

"Thank you so much Mother," Mycroft grumbled as he cuddled Rose. "And Sherlock, I'm going to murder you once Rose is in bed, just so you're aware."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You're a very smart girl, aren't you?" William praised, reaching over to pat Rose's back. "Come to Daddy, princess. Come here! Daddy wants to hold you and give you birthday kisses." He held his arms out for her.

Rose shook her head, giving the man a scowl.

"You look just like Sherlock when you do that," William laughed. "Come on princess."

Mycroft handed her over to their father, smiling a bit as the man cuddled Rose close. The smile didn't last for long however as Rose let out an ear piercing scream and reached for him.

"NO! No! Icky!" Rose cried, reaching out for Mycroft.

Sherlock fell out of his chair again with laughter, while Mycroft, who looked incredibly cross, took Rose back into his arms.

"You're a difficult child," Mycroft told the baby. "And you're hurting Father's feelings. That's not very nice."

Rose settled down as soon as she was back in his arms and rested her head against his shoulder, putting her thumb in her mouth, feeling as though all was now right in the world.

"Sherlock, do get up off the floor dear and try to control yourself," Maud said with a sigh. She reached for her husband's hand and squeezed it gently. "Is everyone ready for cake? We should have some cake."

"I want a very large piece Mummy, and I want to sit by Rose. Can I take pictures of her while she eats? Is she really going to smash the cake? Doesn't she know its better when it's not smashed? And who is going to give her a bath before bed? Can I do it? You never let me do it alone, and I'm twelve now. I'm not going to drop her," Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh Sherlock love, do sit down," Maud laughed. "My inquisitive little boy. We'll worry about bath time later and yes, you may take pictures."

Sherlock took full advantage of having control of the camera, paying far more attention to it than he did his own large slice of cake.

Mycroft helped Rose blow out her candle, as the baby was far more transfixed by the flame than in understanding to blow it out.

As soon as he took the candle out, Rose reached for the cake with both of her little hands, grabbing handfuls of it and bringing it to her mouth.

"Baby, cake goes on the inside," William said with a laugh. He patted Rose's head and was rewarded with a smile, which made him feel a bit better. At least she didn't hate him!

"I think she's trying to get it in there, but most of it is ending up on her face," Mycroft commented. "Little bites Rose, don't choke. That's a big piece of cake for my tiny poppet."

Rose gave him a grin and grabbed more handfuls of cake, trying to shove them both into her mouth at once, smearing it mostly on her face. Some of it did get into her mouth. Some of it also fell on the floor, on her pretty pink party dress, and some of it even got in her hair.

"Rose! Smile! Smile!" Sherlock held the camera and waited until he got Rose's attention before snapping another photo. "She looks more like cake than baby."

"Sweet enough to eat," William said, brushing his hand gently through her curly hair. "Oh dear, crumbs in her hair as well."

As if responding to his comment, Rose touched her hair with both hands, smearing more cake and frosting into it. "Um!"

Mycroft grinned. "Is it yummy? Yummy cake?"

"Um! Um!" Two more handfuls disappeared partially into her mouth while Rose grinned.

"Chew with your mouth closed Rose," Mycroft scolded lightly. "You're going to be a lady, have some manners, poppet."

Rose turned her attention to Mycroft, holding out a handful of smashed cake for him.

"Ew, no Rose," he said firmly. "You can keep your cake all to yourself."

The birthday girl made noises of displeasure and kept thrusting it out towards him.

"Oh just take it Myc, you'll make her happy. She's learning to share! Aren't you, precious?" Maud cooed.

"Mother, we really shouldn't coo at her and speak in baby chatter. She's intelligent enough to be spoken to normally," Mycroft pointed out. After all, he'd read books!

"You and your stupid books," Sherlock grumbled.

Rose drew the attention back to herself by letting out a huge grunt and straining to get Mycroft the nasty bit of cake in her hand.

"Really? Must I Rose?" Mycroft asked, frowning.

"Gah!"

"That's yes, in baby talk," Sherlock decided with a smirk. "Go on Mycroft! Do it!" He grinned devilishly at his older brother.

With a heavy sigh, Mycroft put his hand out and accepted the cake. "Hmm. Thank you Rose. That's very nice to share… I suppose." He promptly put it in a napkin, making a face as he did so. "At least I can be happy she didn't throw it at me like you did, brother mine. That's an improvement."

Sherlock couldn't resist and scooped up a piece of his cake, throwing it at Mycroft, dissolving into hysterical laughter as it hit his brother's chest and rolled down his waistcoat. "Something like that, brother?"

"Ah!" Rose squealed, promptly tossing some of her cake in the general direction of Mycroft. It missed, but she giggled and clapped just the same.

"Thank you Sherlock. You're so very helpful," Mycroft grumbled.

"Gah! Ah!" Rose shouted, tossing more cake.

"Do stop looking so pleased with yourself Rose," Mycroft added.

The baby merely laughed in response and blew him a kiss at Sherlock's insistence she did so.

Two Weeks Later

Rose had been calling him Icky for two weeks. Not even "I-key", it was actually "icky" and it was driving Mycroft crazy. He knew she was just a baby and couldn't help it, but Sherlock had been encouraging her to call him that at each and every opportunity. The bear he'd gotten her for her birthday had even been named Icky in his honor, at Sherlock's urging. His brother was the biggest brat in the world and he fervently hoped Rose wouldn't take after Sherlock in that way.

It was, Mycroft decided, time to talk to his baby sister about what his name was, and there was really no better time to do it than bedtime!

"Rose, stand still," Mycroft said with a chuckle. "You're always so wiggly when you get out of the tub. I'm not letting you run nude through the house again, no matter how much it made Mother laugh," he told her firmly.

To Rose, life was mostly a game, and she continued to wriggle and try to escape her big brother. Unfortunately for her, Mycroft was well used to her tricks and had closed the bathroom door behind them so there would be no escape. Somehow he even managed to get her completely dry before wrapping her up in a warm towel and carrying her off to her room. Rose leaned back against his chest as he carried her, placing her thumb in her mouth.

After closing the door behind them, Mycroft set Rose on the floor, rolling his eyes as she began running naked all around her room, laughing and clapping and generally having a wonderful time. In short order, he selected a pink polka dotted footed sleeper and managed to wrestle her into it, amid tickles and kisses and a little bit of begging on his part for some cooperation.

"Are you trying to set a world record for being the hardest one year old to dress?" Mycroft asked in all seriousness. "You're well on your way to winning that title, let me assure you. Now you and I are going to have a talk Poppet. Before we have a story and you get tucked in."

He carried her over to the rocking chair and sat down, cuddling her close. She watched him with those bright eyes of hers, making him smile and kiss her cheek. "Now Rose, this nonsense about calling me Icky has to stop."

"Icky," she said, around the thumb in her mouth. "Icky."

"No. That is not my name, no matter what Sherlock or anyone else has told you. Not even close," Mycroft corrected. "My name is Mycroft. My-croft. My-croft," he said repeatedly, saying the name slowly so she could hear the distinct sounds of it. "Can you say that? Can you try Rose?"

"My?" the little girl offered, looking up at him from under her dark eyelashes. "My. My. My. My."

Her eldest brother chuckled and tousled her curls. "You're getting closer. Almost there poppet. Let's try again. Mycroft. Mycroft. My-croft."

Rose yawned and patted his cheek with her little hand. Of course, it was the one with the thumb covered it saliva and Mycroft had to fight the instinctual urge to cringe. "My." She decided. "My."

"Try the end Rose. It's not too hard, I'm sure you can manage it, being the smart girl you are," Mycroft urged her. "Croft. Mycroft."

Her eyes closed and she rested her head against his shoulder. "My," Rose said softly. "My."

Mycroft sighed heavily. "I suppose that will have to suffice," he decided. "It's much better than the alternative at any rate. So 'My' it is."

He began rocking back and forth gently in the chair, humming to Rose and rubbing her back gently. When she fell asleep in his arms, Mycroft stayed in the rocker for a little while longer, unwilling to relinquish her just yet. He leaned a cheek against her curls and closed his eyes, feeling the cares of the world slip away for just a few moments of quiet contentment.