"Don't you Mother me young man. You are in very serious trouble and we are going to have a very serious talk about it inside, in your room," Maud told him. "March yourself upstairs this very minute!"
"I'm too old to spank Mother, truly. It's too juvenile and again, I think you're overreacting it's—OW!" Sherlock howled as he was smacked again. "Nooooo Mother don't pull my ear! Ow that hurts!" he whined as Maud escorted him back into the house, leaving Mycroft to deal with the mud covered toddler.
"You, my dear, are most definitely a Holmes," Mycroft told his sister with a sigh. "When you do something, you do it very thoroughly."
"Mummy? Where Mummy go? Sh'ock yell," Rose said, looking at up him with the most adorable mud-streaked face. "Why?"
"Oh, are we entering that stage now?"
"Stay?" the little girl repeated. "What stay?"
"Stage. With a 'g'," her brother corrected. "Never mind about that now, and don't worry about Sherlock either. He's getting precisely what he deserves for being an utter fool."
Rose scrunched up her nose. "Foo? F-O-O-L," she said, sounding it out. When it made just the right sound to her ears, she clapped her hands, spattering mud onto the grass.
"There's nothing for it, I'll have to hose you down. It'll be cold, but I'll be gentle with it. You can't go into the house like this," Mycroft decided. "Stay right where you are poppet."
While one little Holmes was soon squealing with delight as she was hosed off, another Holmes inside the house was making similar noises, but his were most definitely those of displeasure.
"Mother! Mother! No!" Sherlock protested as he was led by his ear all the way upstairs and into his room.
"Yes, Sherlock, yes. Rose could have been very hurt. Being a big brother comes with responsibilities, and if you cannot watch her sufficiently, you must tell us. You cannot be supervising her when you're nowhere near her. She's just a baby and cannot be alone like that. She doesn't know what is safe and what isn't yet, and that,young man, is why you are getting a soundly smacked bottom!"
Finishing her lecture, Maud sat on Sherlock's bed and gave him an expectant look. "Trousers and pants down; quickly now. Down and over my knee."
"Mother, let's be reasonable about this," Sherlock requested, his hands going behind him to protect his backside.
"Oh, I'm being quite reasonable, I promise you," she responded. "I doubt it escaped your notice that we did not make a detour into my room for the hairbrush. Would you like me to get it now, or are you going to do as you're told and I'll use my hand?"
"That is very reasonable," Sherlock decided. He quickly bared his behind, his face turning a bit red, and went across his mother's knees.
Maud adjusted Sherlock so that his bottom was properly in position for spanking. With his upper torso resting on the bed, he'd be reasonably comfortable- or rather, part of him would be. She wrapped an arm around his waist and raised her right hand, bringing it down with a firm smack to the middle of his right cheek. Her hand fell again in that same spot another five times, just enough to make Sherlock begin wiggling, before she moved to the matching spot on his left cheek.
Mother was thorough spanker, Sherlock knew, and if this was the beginning, he was really in for it! Considering it was his mother, he didn't feel the need to hold back his displeasure at being spanked, the way he did when it was Mycroft administering the discipline. A young boy had to have his pride!
Despite Sherlock's slight shifting and wiggling in response to the building sting, and the odd "Ow!" or grunt of pain, Maud was quite proud of how well her son was taking his spanking. It wasn't easy for a thirteen year old boy to submit to such juvenile discipline from his mother.
His cheeks were a smarting pink, from crest to sit spots. Up and down her hand rose and fell again and again, setting his poor bum on fire. Sherlock squirmed and yelled when she ratcheted up the strength and speed behind the spanks. "Ow! Mother! Ow! Ouch!" He kicked and yelled and it never made her stop, but Sherlock couldn't ever seem to keep himself from doing it either.
"I know it hurts Sherlock, but think about Rose. Think about how you'd feel if she'd been really hurt while you were supposed to watch her? You'd feel terrible, I know you would, because you love her. You have to remember, despite your enthusiasm to teach her things, she's only two and still learning," Maud lectured. After the bit of lecturing, Maud fell silent, letting her hand do all the talking.
Wasn't it over yet?!, Sherlock thought desperately. "Mummy! Please Mummy! I'm sorry!" He was kicking furiously now, his hands holding tight to the duvet. His bum was hot and stinging and so very sore. He wouldn't sit for ages!
Knowing they were just about finished, Maud began targeting Sherlock's sit spots and upper thighs. "Supervise means you stay with Rose," she lectured, emphasizing certain words with sharp smacks. "If you cannot manage that, you will not be allowed to watch her anymore. The safety of everyone in this family is not negotiable. There are no exceptions to that. Not for Mycroft, you or Rose. Do you understand?"
Rather than answer verbally, Sherlock let out a distressed wail and ceased his kicking and squirming. The spanking stopped at once and Maud's hand, so good at smacking naughty bottoms, did something else it was very good at—soothing her baby.
"There, there, Sherlock," she soothed, rubbing his back with her hand. "You're such a smart boy and I know we'll never need to talk about this again. You were very brave for your spanking Sherlock; Mummy's brave boy." After a bit of soothing, she carefully returned Sherlock's clothing to its proper place and promptly turned him over for a cuddle. In Maud's book, discipline and love went hand in hand and to do one without the other wasn't right.
Despite being a boy of thirteen, Sherlock practically melted against his mother when she hugged him tightly. He'd never admit it to another soul ever, not even Rose, but Sherlock needed these cuddles and soaked them up from his mother every time. No one cuddled better than his mummy and she never judged him for crying on her shoulder after a spanking. Mycroft never cuddled and he was probably rubbish at it anyway!
Maud continued to soothe and rock her son in his arms, letting him cry out all his tears, telling him how much she loved him in that soft, soothing tone. "That's my good boy," she whispered. "Mummy loves you. It's alright now. Everything is forgiven, I promise."
Mother and son stayed like that for what seemed like quite some time, until Sherlock was nearly asleep in Maud's arms. She deftly moved him a bit and stood, pulling back the bed clothes, and tucked him up snuggly in his bed for a nap. Once he was tucked in, she sat beside him and ran her fingers through his wild curls until he was fast asleep.
While Maud and Sherlock had a 'talk' in their mother's room, Mycroft was dealing with his own issue in the bathroom, namely bathing one very messy little Holmes. Having hosed her off outside, Mycroft carried her into the house, grimacing as mud still managed to smear on his tweed country attire; Sherlock would definitely be paying for the dry-cleaning!
Once he'd corralled Rose in the bathroom, Mycroft turned on the tap, adjusting the water to the right temperature and let the tub begin to fill. When Rose demanded bubbles he acquiesced, adding his mother's lavender bubbly concoction to the water, unable to suppress a smile when Rose grinned excitedly.
"Why is it you never want a bath except when you get bubbles?" he asked, looking down at the toddler. "What is so fascinating about the bubbles? A bath is still a bath."
Rose didn't give him much of an answer, babbling about Mummy and bubbles and pretty smells as Mycroft shut off the water and proceeded to undress her. He plopped her into the tub, grimacing as she splashed him.
"Now look here Rosenwyn. This is your bath, not mine. You are the one that gets wet and gets washed, not me. I just do the washing, understand?"
"Un-stan," she agreed. Then splashed him again.
"Rose, no!" He rolled his eyes when she merely giggled in response.
"This is not going to work. We're getting you washed up and then you're coming right out. I don't want to be splashed so no playtime, just your silly bubbles," he decided. He stood up and retrieved a flannel from the cupboard, putting it into the water until it was good and soapy.
"Good god, how can you possibly be so dirty?" Mycroft wondered aloud as he began to scrub up the baby. "It's everywhere and after I hosed you down and everything! Must be a special talent of yours, Rose. What do you think of that?"
"Goo-god!" she echoed. Her smile turned into a frown once he took hold of an arm and tried to wash it off. "No! No! Noooooo! Wan play!" Rose hollered, trying to extract her arm from his gentle hold on it.
"You sound as if you're being murdered and no one in the history of the world has died from being bathed, I assure you. Besides, I already said we weren't playing, because you were splashing. I don't like being splashed, it's not nice," Mycroft tried to explain patiently. At times the amount of patience he was able to muster for Rose was rather astounding.
Rose's protests stopped and she looked at him for a moment, as if thinking very hard about his words. Her big brother didn't waste the opportunity and continued to scrub away the layers of caked-on mud, revealing the tiny arm beneath them. "Nah nice. 'pashing nah nice?" she finally asked.
Mycroft took a second to bask in his pleasure at how quickly she picked up words and phrases, which she appeared to understand. "Close. Not. N-o-t is how you say it. Not nice. The other word is splashing; sp-lash-ing." He sounded the words out for her a few times.
The toddler tried once more. "Spashing not nice?"
It was good enough for now, so Mycroft didn't correct her pronounciation again. "That's right. I don't like it when you splash me, it makes me sad, because I don't want to be wet." My god, I sound like an idiot, he couldn't help but think. Splashing made him sad indeed! It was worth it though, when he heard her response.
"Sorry, My. Love you," Rose said in a tiny voice, looking up at him sadly. "No spashing."
It was unbelievably unfair that she was such a sweet little monster. It almost, almost, made him feel badly for having scolded her. "That's a very, very good girl Rose. Such a good girl to say sorry!" Mycroft praised, giving her a smile. "It's alright, I forgive you. Thank you for saying sorry." When her face lit up at his praise, Mycroft tickled her tummy just a bit before returning to the task at hand.
Before long, and with minimal splashing, Rose was clean and smelling of lavender as he lifted her from the tub. She was dripping from head to toe and Mycroft hurried to dry her off before she became chilled. A knock on the door disturbed his work and he looked up as Maud opened the door.
"How is it- oh goodness! Is that my baby? No more nasty mud, just baby?" Maud asked, giving her little girl a smile.
"Yes!" Rose answered. She seized the opportunity for escape and wriggled out of the towel and squeezed past her mother before Maud could even react.
Mycroft groaned loudly. "Thank you Mother, so very much." He got up from the floor and shot past his mother, towel in hand, trying to catch the naked toddler. "Rose! Rose, stop right where you are!" he called sternly. "Stop!"
Rose skidded to a stop at the end of the hallway, finding every door closed with the knobs much too high for her to reach. She immediately turned around and ran back the way she'd came, letting Mycroft catch her up in the towel, giggling as he bounced her a bit.
"You're a ridiculous girl Rose," he murmured, holding her against his chest.
"It's nap time, but I'm not certain she'll be able to rest after all the excitement," Maud admitted. "Should Mummy take you to get dressed Rose? Then we could have a nap together in Mummy's big bed! Wouldn't that be lovely?"
Mycroft looked at his mother with concern. She looked exhausted and he was certain she had yet another migraine. "I may not agree with her propensity for streaking about the house, but we're fine," he said quietly. "You should rest, before it gets any worse. I'll get her dressed and she can play in the study with me. You know how she is; when she's tired, she'll pass out anywhere, bed or no bed."
Maud sighed heavily, knowing her eldest son was right but feeling guilty all the same. "Sometimes I think I ask far too much of you Myc."
"Of course not," Mycroft responded, hoping to cut off the spewing of sentiment before it picked up steam. "We're fine. Mother can go to sleep because we're just fine, aren't we poppet?" He looked down at her, smiling when Rose gave him a bright grin.
"Mummy go sleep. Night-night," Rose said, blowing Maud a kiss.
"Be a lovely girl for Mycroft, hm?" Maud requested before kissing her baby. She gave Mycroft a look of thanks and disappeared into her bedroom.
An hour later, Mycroft looked up from his laptop to find his sister fast asleep on the floor of the study. She still held a crayon in one hand, her head resting on the coloring book, her curls framing her pretty face. God, she looked cherubic like that, he couldn't help but think. If anything ever happened to her… Mycroft shook his head, as if shaking the thought out of it.
He stood and crossed the room to pick her up, tickled pink to find that even in sleep she cuddled up with him. Was there ever a sweeter little girl in the whole world? Probably not. After all, Holmeses never did things half way! He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before tucking her in on the small sofa in the study, making certain he wrapped her up warmly in the blanket. Then, with a smile, Mycroft returned to his desk and his seemingly never-ending job.
Three weeks later the Holmes family made another weekend trip to the country house. Maud's health hadn't been the best since their last trip and believing that the fresh country air and some time resting would be good for her, Mycroft had encouraged this second trip. He had not, however, been able to leave the city as early as he liked, so Maud, Sherlock and Rose had gone on ahead and he would join them as soon as he could.
"Mother, you should rest," Sherlock commented when they arrived. "You look so tired. I'll take care of Rose. Get her unpacked and all that. Want me to make you some tea?" He picked up Rose, whose was bounding about the entry way and settled her on his hip, quietly shushing her for a moment. Sherlock was thrilled when she merely cuddled up to him and listened while the 'grown ups' spoke.
"If you're sure, love. Rose is so energetic and forever getting into things. Are you certain you can manage on your own?" Maud asked worriedly.
"I'm sure. Go on, or Mycroft will be cross with you whenever he gets here. He told me to make certain you weren't too worn out. If only you'd have let me drive!"
Maud chuckled and leaned over to kiss her boy's curly head. "Darling, you aren't even licensed. I know you think it's all about mechanics and motion and combustion and all those good elements- and you're correct- but not until you've taken the proper courses and been licensed. I'm grateful for your offer though, Sherlock, really."
She took Rose from him and cuddled her close. "Mummy is going to go rest my love. Play nicely with Sherlock and try not to be too much trouble, alright?"
Rose nodded, her curls bouncing from the movement, and she gave her mother a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Love Mummy," she murmured.
"I love you too," Maud assured the little girl before setting her down. "Come get me if you need me Sherlock." She disappeared upstairs and into her bedroom, more than ready for some rest.
After unpacking their clothes and Rose's toys for the weekend, Sherlock set his little sister up with a movie in the sitting room. He let her pick it out and wasn't at all surprised when she picked Cinderella. Sherlock was certain Rose had watched it at least 100 times, thus the reason for having a copy here as well as at home. He really ought to keep track better, but there were generally other, more interesting experiments to do.
"I'm going to tuck you up on the couch Rose, with Teddy, and you can watch Cinderella," Sherlock explained as he wrapped her up in a blanket on the couch. "You stay here and watch. I'm going to work in the kitchen."
"Work? What Sh'ock do? I help!" Rose volunteered, grinning brightly at him.
"You can help by staying right here and watching with Teddy," he quickly reassured her. "I'll call you when I need more help. How's that sound?" When Rose gave her approval of that idea, he ruffled her curly hair, making her giggle, and turned on the film before leaving the room.
By the time Rose's film ended, Sherlock was hard at work in the kitchen, trying an experiment with battery acid he'd been planning since their last trip. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice the time passing, nor Rose coming into the kitchen and promptly escaping out the open door into the yard. He'd opened the door to assist in ridding some fumes, never once thinking that Rose might slip right past him without even noticing.
Rose was free! She ran out into the yard in her bare feet, giggling as the green grass tickled her toes. That was her very favorite way to play outside so she could feel everything she came across! There weren't any mud puddles today but that was just fine because the yard was full of animals, some happier to see her than others.
She plopped down in the grass and watched in awe as baby bunnies followed their mother to the garden and began nibbling on all the tasty plants they could find. Rose only managed to sit still for a moment before she got up and approached the fuzzy rabbits. "Bunny! Bunny! No go bunny!" she cried out when they scurried away. "Wan play bunny!"
It quickly became apparent over the next few hours that none of the animals to be found in the yard wanted to play with her! Rose chased the bunnies and the butterflies and the birds. They looked so pretty and were so close she could almost touch them, but she never could! Despite her lack of opportunity to pet the wildlife, she had a grand time chasing them around.
One animal, however, did not intend to make her acquaintance or even be noticed by her, and was taken by surprise as the tiny human moved closer to the bush in which it was hiding.
As the animal remained hidden and Rose continued to toddle closer to it, Mycroft finally made his arrival. Parking his car in the drive, he retrieved his suitcase and briefcase before heading inside. The house was unusually quiet and Mycroft immediately noticed that the television was on in the sitting room with no one to watch the DVD still in the player.
"Sherlock, where's Rose?" he immediately asked.
"She's watching Cinderella again," Sherlock called back. "Mother's napping."
Mycroft dropped his things there in the entry way and went into the sitting room. There was no toddler to be found and he headed straight for the kitchen, looking anything but pleased. "She is not in the sitting room Sherlock. Where did she go? Haven't we gone over this and over-"
His voice trailed off as he looked out into the yard and watched in horror as a fox emerged from a bush and began creeping ever closer to the baby, who was presenting picking flowers, completely oblivious to the approaching animal. "Oh my god."
Mycroft was out the door like a shot with Sherlock close behind him. It was then Sherlock saw the danger of the situation, frozen in place as Mycroft hollered and scared the fox away, frightening Rose in the process, who promptly burst into tears.
The eldest Holmes scooped up his sister and hugged her as tightly as he dared, feeling his heartbeat return to normal now that she was out of danger. "Shh, it's alright Rose. I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't mean to do that and I'm very sorry," he shushed her gently, swaying a bit with her in his arms. When her tears subsided and he'd dried her face with his handkerchief, Mycroft headed back towards the house. "You stay right where you are Sherlock," he hissed as he passed by his brother with the baby. He promptly carried her upstairs, woke Maud, and left Rose in her capable care.
Sherlock was standing right where he'd been told to stay, unable, really, to move if he'd wanted to. That… he had not seen coming. It was the yard, it was safe. How'd she gotten out? How had he not heard her? What if Mycroft hadn't come when he did?
His concern over Rose quickly turned to sheer panic as Mycroft advanced on him. This was very, very bad. Mycroft was going absolutely kill him, and self-preservation overrode everything else as he scrambled to talk himself out of trouble. "I didn't mean it! I didn't put her outside, I didn't! Not this time, I swear!"
"You expect me to believe that? After the last time?" Mycroft growled. "How could you do that Sherlock? We're supposed to keep her safe! That's our responsibility! She is a toddler and they toddle, hence the name. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!"
"She must have gone out the door! I didn't hear her, I didn't know! Mycroft, I'm so sorry, I was working and…" Sherlock stopped talking as it dawned on him that he wasn't helping himself.
"So you were here, deliberately not paying attention, absorbed in your ridiculous experiments and she just walked outside without you seeing it? Is that really your defense, that this is somehow better?!" the eldest Holmes thundered.
Sherlock blanched. "Technically…" he said very slowly.
"Don't be smart Sherlock. I'm the smart one," Mycroft ground out. "And clearly the very much smarter one if the smacking from Mother didn't make this point absolutely clear to you already! Trust me, little boy, I am going to make it oh so very clear that you won't forget it for the rest of your life!"
"But she did! She did. I promise she did! You don't have to!" Sherlock protested, knowing already that Mycroft was going to wallop the daylights out of him just by the firm way his elder brother grabbed his arm and hauled him back into the house. Mycroft was so much meaner than Mummy was in just about every way possible.
"Mycroft! Be reasonable!" He yanked hard, trying to get his arm out of Mycroft's grasp. His efforts proved, unfortunately for him, quite worthless.
"Sometimes you are a very thoughtless and stupid little boy," Mycroft growled, stopping to land an almighty swat to his brother's clothed behind. He expected an immediate refute of such charges or at the very least a yelp or curse in response to the smack. Instead, all he got was a little sniffle. A sniffle?
Sherlock was filled with righteous indignation as Mycroft manhandled him towards the study, then was taken by surprise when instead of responding to Mycroft's words- words they often threw around at one another- with a heated retort, he went silent. That was curiously odd. He was still pondering just how odd that was when Mycroft smacked his bottom, causing Sherlock to bite his lip and begin sniffling.
How very, very odd, the boy decided. Then, quite suddenly, just as Mycroft practically shoved him into the study, it dawned on Sherlock what was so very odd: he felt guilty. He felt, for the first time, that his brother's go-to scolding phrase was true. He had been thoughtless and stupid and because of that, Rose could have been seriously hurt.
The continuation of sniffling as Mycroft escorted his brother into the study and firmly shut the door behind them was puzzling. Sherlock never sniffled like that, or at least not until he'd been soundly spanked. One good smack wasn't likely to get such a dramatic reaction from him. What in the world was going on?
Suddenly it hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks: Sherlock wasn't reacting to the smack or his impending spanking, the young teen felt badly for putting Rose in danger. Mycroft had never questioned his brother's affection for their endearing little sister, but this was still a surprising development from the boy who, just three weeks ago, had been spanked for essentially same thing by their mother.
He rounded on his younger brother, fully intending to continue shouting at him when he saw the look on Sherlock's face. The young teen looked absolutely devastated, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
The severity of the situation having slammed into Sherlock was making it difficult to control his emotions. If Mycroft hadn't come, Rose could have been attacked by that fox. A fox wouldn't bother an adult, but a little kid? Rose was hardly a threat to anyone, let alone a fox.
"I'm a horrible brother," Sherlock whispered. "The most horrible brother. She could… could have… could have been attacked and hurt and it would have been all my fault." With every word he spoke it was harder and harder to keep from crying.
Despite himself, Mycroft softened just a bit when he saw Sherlock's genuine regret. It made him rethink how hard he intended to be on his brother. As brilliant as he was, sometimes Sherlock just didn't see the whole picture, particularly when it came to Rose. He'd always been so convinced that they were too fussy and too protective of her, and thus stifling her intelligence, that he'd never really sat and thought through their concerns. Now his brother was coming to realize their concerns were very much real and no matter how smart Rose was, she was still just a tiny, defenseless toddler.
Sherlock could see it all in his mind's eye, the fox attacking Rose, scarring her for life if not killing her. He hadn't noticed her leave, he hadn't tried to notice her leave, he'd assumed she was still watching her idiotic film. He'd been too consumed with his own work to stop and think about her. He took a deep, shuddering breath and turned away from Mycroft as tears began falling quietly from his eyes.
Damn it, Mycroft thought to himself. He'd have to offer Sherlock some sort of brotherly wisdom and comfort, no matter how uncomfortable that made him. They just didn't do that, he and Sherlock; while he cared about his brother, it wasn't something he generally expressed.
He reached out and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder gently. "You're not a horrible brother, Sherlock.
You're still learning how to be a big brother and it takes a while to figure out how it's done. I'm a much better brother to Rose than I was to you at that age," Mycroft admitted. "I probably would have let the fox eat you."
Sherlock's stopped sniffling and turned to face his brother. "You're really awful, you know that?" he grumbled in an almost affectionate sort of way.
The corners of Mycroft's mouth twitched. "I know; I do try. Don't think I'm kidding either because I really wanted a dog. The fox would have been doing me a favor."
The younger Holmes stared up at his brother for a moment, trying to decide if Mycroft was kidding or not.
"In all honesty, Sherlock, you've done very well being a big brother. Rose clearly adores you and your excitement in teaching her things is wonderful, so you're well on your way to being a fantastic big brother. Just remember that one of the most important aspects of it is protecting her. That's part of our job, a very large portion of it in fact. She needs us to do that."
Sherlock nodded solemnly. "I'm really sorry. I put her in danger and its unforgivable, I know," he said quietly. "But I promise it will never, ever happen again."
Mycroft nodded. "I appreciate your apologies…" He paused for effect and then continued on. "However, you're still getting a spanking."
"What? Why?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "I learned my lesson Mycroft! I did!"
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I'm so happy for you," he quipped sarcastically. "However, I'm going to reinforce your lesson by giving you a sore reminder that will assist you in thinking twice before ever letting her out of your sight again."
Sherlock's mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave Mycroft a very epic pout. "You're so much meaner than Mummy."
An eyebrow quirked. "Indubitably," Mycroft responded. "However, that is neither here nor there. Your fate has been sealed, so I suggest you accept it and skip the strop. Trousers and pants down Sherlock, and then you can either go over my knee or you can bend over the desk."
The teen looked completely outraged. "Trousers and pants?!"
"Is there something wrong with your hearing, brother mine? Yes, trousers and pants. In case you've forgotten since the last time I smacked you, I don't give baby spankings over clothes. Do it, and do it now Sherlock, or I'll do it for you and I promise you'll be very, very sorry if I have to do that."
With a huff, Sherlock unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers before pushing them and his pants down to his knees. Blushing bright red, he bent over the desk and gave Mycroft a look that was half-pout half-glare. "Well. Get on with it then," he grumbled.
Mycroft rolled his eyes and retrieved a ruler from a drawer in the desk. He stood up and moved to Sherlock's side, briefly placing a hand on the small of his brothers back.
"How many?"
"Haven't decided yet. When you start howling, I'll know," he said, more to irritate Sherlock than anything else.
Before Sherlock could even utter a suitable response to that, the ruler fell across the center of his bum, hard. He winced, unprepared for the sting, but kept silent. In fact, he was determined to remain as quiet as possibly, not wanting to give Mycroft the satisfaction of making him cry.
Mycroft, well used to Sherlock's attempts at stoicism, paid him no mind as he methodically brought the ruler down across the crest of the boy's cheeks and worked his way down. The ruler left sore, red stripes in its wake.
By the time Mycroft had smacked him a dozen times with that dratted ruler, Sherlock was sniffling despite himself. Each smack was like a line of fire across his bum and the accumulated effect of many smacks was becoming very uncomfortable.
Satisfied for now with the shade of Sherlock's bottom, Mycroft turned his attention to the boy's sit spots and upper thighs. He cracked the ruler down hard multiple times, intending to make his displeasure very clearly known with that ruler. "Rose is a responsibility, our responsibility," he began lecturing. "If you agree to watch her, you must do it, or she could get hurt. You'd never forgive yourself if your carelessness got her injured."
"Ow! Mycroft! Ow! OW! Nooooo! Not there!" Sherlock howled, barely able to hear the lecture over the sound of his own protests. The ruler on his upper thighs was sheer hell and he began to wonder if he'd even survive this spanking.
The eldest Holmes ignored his little brother's protests and moved the ruler back up to his bottom, working his way from crest to crease once again. Just as the ruler smacked across Sherlock's sit spots another time, the teen began to sob. Feeling as if the point had been well made, Mycroft put the ruler down and patted Sherlock's back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
"Alright, we're done. I know it's very sore but you'll be alright. I wouldn't actually hurt you, you know," he commented. "When you're ready you can get up and fix your clothing." He gave Sherlock's back one more pat before moving away to return the ruler to its spot in the desk drawer.
Sherlock pulled his pants and trousers back up, continuing to cry. "What if I can't do it?" he asked through his tears. "What if I can't protect her Mycroft? What if I fail?"
Despite himself, Mycroft reached out once more and squeezed the teen's shoulder. "Just do your very best. That's all anyone can ask of you. That's all I will ask from you."
"Can I go? Are we done?" Sherlock asked. When Mycroft nodded, confirming they were finished, he hurried out of the office and shut the door behind him. Only then did he reach back and rub his bum gently. It felt like he wasn't going to sit comfortably for days!
Not in the mood to resume his experiment just now, Sherlock headed upstairs to his room, intending to lick his wounds in private. Mycroft was such a git! Once inside his room, he shed his trousers and crawled under the duvet, intending to rest and try to clear his head.
A few minutes later, just as he was getting comfy, something smacked his face. Opening his eyes, Sherlock saw it was Teddy, who was followed by Rose. The baby grinned proudly at having got up on the bed. "Wan play?" she asked.
Sherlock shook his head. "No Baby, I'm tired," he admitted in a whisper. "Want to have a cuddle?"
Never one to turn away a cuddle, Rose grinned delightedly at the idea. Sherlock lifted the duvet and Rose got underneath and snuggled up against him. "I love you, you know," Sherlock whispered to his sister. "So much. I won't ever let anything bad happen to you, I promise." He wrapped an arm around her protectively and kissed her cheek.
An hour later, Maud carefully opened Sherlock's door and peeked inside the room. Sherlock and Rose were sound asleep, her little boy holding the baby close. They were positively adorable and she hurried to find a camera, determined to capture this moment of sweetness for all eternity.