Mycroft Holmes strode into his mother's private study with a sense of purpose, going immediately to her desk. "Mother, today is library day and we are required to return our books this very day or we shall be penalized and forced to pay fines."
Maud Holmes looked up from her work, mentally sighing at her beloved nine-year-old son. She missed the days when he called her Mummy and wished she could remember a time when he didn't sound so very grown up and serious.
The Holmes family had repaired to their cottage for the final month of summer break, allowing time for the townhouse to be properly aired out and given a good cleaning by the very efficient maid service Maud hired to do so. The cottage and its land was a lovely retreat but it lacked a proper library, like that found in Holmes Manor or even the London townhouse. It had only taken Mycroft a few days to read through all the books he thought might be interesting and thus Maud and Mycroft had made a trip to the library in the nearest village, checking out a great many books which were, as he had so accurately pointed out, due back today.
The village library only allowed books to be checked out for one week, in order to keep plenty of books on the shelves for the many people in the area that frequented the library, being the only one within a reasonable distance. The one week rule was very sternly enforced and fines levied immediately the morning after a book's due date.
Maud waved her son over to her side and kissed the top of his head. Mycroft always kept his hair relatively short, unknowingly denying his mother the pleasure of the curly hair he exhibited as a tiny boy. Yet one more example that her baby growing up far too quickly! "I must get this paper done, darling. The publisher is waiting very eagerly for it. I'll try to finish quickly so we can go today, but if not, we'll go straight away tomorrow and pay our fines."
"Mother that is not acceptable," Mycroft replied in an even tone. "It is very rude not to bring our books back and share with people. There are too many stupid people in the world to withhold knowledge from them and thus continue the decline in society's overall intelligence."
Laughing, Maud hugged her boy tightly, and smiled when he wrapped his arms around her in her return. "Oh Mikey," she murmured. "I don't think the library will be very angry with us if we don't make it until tomorrow. We'll make certain to pay the fines and keep in good standing with them, I promise. There's no need to be quite so serious about it my dear."
The young boy looked less than convinced and sighed in displeasure, but nevertheless leaned into his mother's touch, allowing her to snuggle him close without a word of complaint. Mycroft was not one for coddling, kissing, or invasions of personal space in general but there was something special about his Mother. All soft and warm, her embraces were full of love and strength, the scent of lilacs drifting into his nose in a soothing way each time she hugged him tight. While Father might give him an awkward one-armed hug or pat his shoulder firmly in approval, Mother outright refused to settle for so little in terms of affection. Mother hugged whether Mycroft wanted her to or not and for some inexplicable reason he never fought her about it, he merely acquiesced. When no one else was looking, like now for instance, he wrapped his arms around his mother in return.
Mother's snuggles weren't the only thing Mycroft loved about his mother though, secretly or otherwise. His mother did important and intelligent work and even though he was disgruntled that said work was going to make them delinquent with the library, the nine-year-old admired Maud's dedication and especially her impressive intellect. Mycroft knew without a doubt that his Mother was the smartest mother of anyone he knew, and was likely the smartest mother ever. "What are you working on Mother? Is it very interesting?"
Maud's eyes lit up and she launched into an explanation of a complex mathematical probability and discounted the current way it was taught in upper level schools and universities, offering a better and clearer method for teaching it. She could practically see the wheels turning in Mycroft's head as she spoke and her heart swelled with pride at how smart her boy was. He may not have understood it entirely, but he grasped the very basics at least and that was more than most people comprehended!
"I'm so glad I have a smart Mother. It would be very embarrassing if you were stupid," Mycroft decided, sounding quite pleased. He then made a face as Maud pulled him into another hug, but really it was just for show; a mere token protest.
"Oh Myc, you are such a joy! Are you truly proud of Mummy, darling?" Maud looked down at her child with eyes full of warmth and love.
"I'm proud of Mother," Mycroft corrected. "But yes, I am very proud that you are intelligent. You would be very insufferable otherwise. Especially with this…" He gestured at the fact that they were, in fact, cuddling, laying all blame for it upon Maud's head. "This and stupidity would be utterly intolerable."
Maud adored her son, who in general was both delightful and well behaved, though rather more serious than a nine-year-old should really be. She rewarded her son's praise with a kiss on top of his head and a tighter snuggle. She was more than a little thrilled that Mycroft nestled against her and tried to do so in a very subtle way, but a mother always knows! "Try to remember this moment, when you said you were proud of me, because in about three years you'll be asking me to drop you two blocks away from the school so no one sees your Mum drove you to school."
"That seems counterproductive," Mycroft murmured with a frown. "Why would I do that?"
"Because you'll be older and want to seem more independent to your peers and you've already got quite the independent spirit," Maud told him. "I'll try to finish this quickly, Mikey. But if I'm not able to, we'll go to the library first thing in the morning and settle our account with them."
The boy nodded, signaling that he understood, but not that he agreed and after giving her a small smile, he departed his mother's study.
The hours seemed to tick by very slowly, even as he enjoyed working through an old algebra textbook he found in the cottage, knowing that later his mother would look at his work and hopefully find no faults with it. When 2pm hit with no sign of Mother finishing anytime soon, Mycroft took a deep breath and quickly formulated a new plan to avoid upsetting the library. He feared that if they made the library cross that he would no longer be able to borrow any books. That would make visits to the cottage intolerably boring! The library was four miles each way and Mycroft had walked as many as six miles with Father before. Surely he could manage to make eight miles in a reasonable amount of time and if he left right this minute, he would be home in time for supper!
Feeling rather proud of himself for finding such a reasonable solution, Mycroft readied the library bag, making sure each item on the printed check-out receipt was inside. Upon confirming that they were all there, he put on his shoes and started off on the road to the little village. He was very certain that Mother would be very proud that he found a solution that allowed her to continue working uninterrupted!
Mycroft arrived at the library without incident, feeling invigorated and a bit triumphant after completing his four mile walk there. He dutifully returned his books, greeting the librarian with a curt nod. Sometimes she was very helpful and he liked her; other times she smiled too much and gave him funny looks when scanning the books he wanted to check out. That was when he didn't like her.
Though his original intention was merely to return the books and go straight home, the well stocked library shelves beckoned to him and the nine-year-old was unable to resist their allure. If he only looked at them very briefly, Mycroft was certain he could check a few out and still make it home in time for supper. Mother was always very insistent on family meal times, especially when they were at the cottage. Mentally justifying a fifteen minute window for browsing into his calculations of distance and speed to return home on time, Mycroft disappeared among the shelves, breathing in what had to be his favorite scent in the world: books! Old, new, yellowing, gold-gilded, the smell of books was akin to heaven to the curious boy and his eyes lit up at the amount of knowledge available at his fingertips.
"I thought I had one more straggler back here," the librarian commented sometime later. She discovered Mycroft among the tomes of classic literature and gave the young boy a smile. "You have just enough time to check out your books before we close for the night."
"Libraries should be open twenty-four hours a day," Mycroft commented as he gathered his selections. "The need for information and greater knowledge acknowledges no time constraints. Or business hours of operation."
The librarian merely chuckled and scanned his library card. As she handed the card back, her smile became a bit of a frown as she surveyed the sudden panicked look on Mycroft's face.
Mycroft was filled with dread as he realized it was now nearly 5pm. His walk to the library had taken almost ninety minutes! He'd never make it back home on time for dinner at six, and he would arrive home after dark, which was not allowed.
"Everything alright?" the librarian asked as she put the books into his bag.
The boy nodded, forcing himself to relax and accepted the full bag and printed receipt before hurrying out the door to begin his walk home.
When Maud finally finished and printed her article, it was already 4:40. The library closed at 5, meaning they wouldn't make it today, at least not with any time for browsing the shelves. Knowing how disappointed Mycroft would be, she went to look for him, hoping an offer to bake a cake together might cheer him up. Maud checked all the usual places: bedroom, sitting room, garden, tree house, but Mycroft was nowhere to be found!
Just past 5pm, William Holmes arrived at the cottage, having finally managed to escape work and leave London. He was greeted by a frantic wife and immediately became concerned.
"Mycroft is missing and it's going to be dark soon!" Maud explained. "We need to find him!" Grabbing torches, the anxious parents began searching the land their cottage was on, examining favorite walking trails, checking ponds, and William even set off on foot to find out if Mycroft had wandered to a neighbor's. Two miles to the nearest neighbor wasn't a particularly long walk for Mycroft, even if he was only nine. His visit to neighbors on both sides turned up nothing; no one had seen Mycroft or heard from him, but the adults readily joined in the search for the missing boy.
Walking in the dark was not a fun experience, Mycroft discovered. The moon wasn't full tonight and there were clouds in the sky, obscuring his best light source as he walked along the lonely road back to the cottage alone. He wasn't afraid of the dark by any means, as that would be too silly and childish for Mycroft Holmes to indulge in that sort of thing, but it was unnerving to have his sight so restricted by the dark while on the desolate road. There was no telling what, or who, he might encounter before getting home.
When the lights of the cottage came into view, Mycroft felt a rush of relief that was immediately followed by a sense of dread that settled heavily in his stomach. Mother was going to be very unhappy with him, but he had little time to think about that before Maud was flying out of the door and wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"Oh Mikey, Mikey! I've been so worried! Where have you been?" Maud hugged her baby, kissing his forehead.
"I'm sorry I'm late for dinner, Mother," he murmured, allowing her to snuggle him to her heart's content.
"Forget about dinner, I was worried because I couldn't find you! Where have you been?" It was then that Maud noticed the library bag. "Did you go to the library, Mycroft?"
The nine-year-old nodded. "I returned all our books and checked out some new ones. I stayed too long, or I would have been back for supper and before dark," Mycroft stressed.
"Mycroft Holmes! Why would you ever do such a thing? I said I was busy and we would go first thing tomorrow morning!"
"You were busy Mother, but I wasn't," Mycroft countered. "You never said I couldn't go."
Maud stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, giving her son a stern look. "Since when do you just "go" somewhere without telling anyone or getting permission first? When has that ever been allowed? The answer, young man, is never. That has never been allowed, and neither are you allowed to be out alone after dark! You didn't ask permission because you knew I wouldn't give it; am I right?" When Mycroft's face flushed, Maud knew she had him.
"I… I didn't think about it in those terms, Mother," he countered quietly, beginning to shuffle his feet a bit. "It was never my intention to worry you!"
"But it was your intention to go and come back before I noticed you were gone wasn't it? How exactly where you going to explain that we no longer needed to visit the library tomorrow, Mycroft? Clearly, young man, you didn't think this through very well at all," Maud scolded.
His cheeks burning red, Mycroft couldn't really argue with his mother, so he stayed silent and found the floor very interesting to look at.
"Well I'm going to make sure you do think about things properly from now on. Go to your room Mycroft, and stand in the corner. I'll be up shortly to paddle your naughty bottom," Maud said sternly.
Mycroft's head shot up in alarm. A spanking?! "Mother! I'm too old for something to juvenile as that, surely," he protested.
"If you're not too old to break the rules, then you are certainly not too old to have your bottom smacked. Now do as you're told or I'll happily spank you in the kitchen instead of your room. Would you prefer that?" Maud challenged. She smirked when Mycroft hurried towards the stairs and proceeded to stomp up them to his room. Whenever he was in trouble, Mycroft immediately seemed to revert to the typical behavior of children of his age; once his attempts to talk himself out of trouble failed that is.
Maud gave Mycroft fifteen minutes to think about his actions before heading upstairs. She stopped briefly in the master bedroom to retrieve her hairbrush, and then knocked lightly on Mycroft's door before letting herself in. She smiled to herself when she saw he was standing in the corner, proud that he listened so well. He really was a good boy and behavior like today was rather rare. Though generally, it all had the same cause: lack of forethought and impulsiveness. It was rare that Mycroft indulged in his impulsive side, but when he did, that led to trouble.
"Come here Mycroft," Maud called, taking a seat on her son's bed.
Mycroft turned away from the corner and hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between them. He stood in front of his mother, head down, face blushing red.
"Do you understand why you're in trouble and getting a spanking?"
Mycroft nodded, keeping his eyes on the carpet at his feet.
"I want to make sure that you understand fully, so why don't you tell me why you believe you're in trouble," Maud encouraged.
The nine-year-old knew that was not really a request. Mother almost always asked him to do this before a spanking. He hadn't been given that many spankings in his nine years, but each was memorable, as were Mother's habits when giving them. "I left the house without asking for permission, I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I wasn't here for supper, and I came home after dark."
"Good," Maud praised. She reached out to tip his chin up to look at her. "I just want you to be safe Mikey. The library isn't worth risking your safety. You might think it is, but I don't, because I don't want to lose you, son. You're very precious to me. And Mummy always spanks when you do things that aren't safe, right?"
He nodded, a flush growing across his cheekbones. "Do you have to use that Mummy?" he whispered, gesturing to the hairbrush.
"I do," she confirmed, her heart swelling when he called her Mummy. "Because you broke many rules today Mycroft. I know my hairbrush will teach you a very good lesson and you'll think twice before breaking these rules again."
Maud squeezed his hand and then drew him over to her right side, struggling to ignore the forlorn look on his face. Oh, how she hated having to punish her baby! But she'd rather punish now than lose him later because he hadn't learnt his lesson. "Trousers and pants down, Mycroft."
Mycroft obeyed, at least in part, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pushing them down to his knees. His hands hesitated at the waistband of his pants and he gave Maud an imploring look. "May I keep them up, Mummy? Please?"
"No, Mycroft," Maud said gently but firmly. "Those come down too. Mummy is going to paddle your bare bottom good and hard, don't make it worse by not obeying now."
He obeyed at once, pushing his pants down to his knees and bent over Mother's lap. Mycroft cringed as she adjusted him a bit, putting his vulnerable bare bum in prime position for a sound smacking. "Mummy?" he said very softly. "I really am sorry I frightened you and I mean that very sincerely."
Maud patted his back with her left hand. "I know Mikey. You're a good boy, but you must remember the rules." She wrapped her arm around his waist and raised the hairbrush in her right. The wooden back of the brush smacked down hard across the crest of his right cheek. A matching smack fell on the left as Maud methodically spanked down each cheek with hearty, stinging swats that painted the little bum over her lap a dusky pink. Once she spanked down each side, the brush began peppering his bottom with fast swats.
Mycroft tried hard to be brave and stoic about his spanking. He was nine after all, far too old to squirm and whine and complain over Mother's lap. That attitude lasted for about two minutes before beginning to crumble. It started with a bit of shifting his hips in response to the mighty sting the brush wielded. The shifting became more pronounced as Mother picked up the pace and Mycroft began grunting and outright squirming.
There was no need to lecture as Mycroft clearly understood what he had done wrong, so Maud concentrated fully on paddling her son's bottom. She held on to him a little tighter as he began wiggling, but didn't allow the growing signs of discomfort deter her. The hairbrush detoured from his cheeks to heat up his sit spots, and she even gave his upper thighs a bit of attention too.
Growing more and more uncomfortable with each smarting swat, Mycroft could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Wanting to be mature and brave, he tried to blink them away, but the tears did not cooperate and began trailing down his face. When Mother moved the brush to his upper thighs, Mycroft couldn't help crying out and squirming in earnest. Once the tears started, there was no going back and before long, he was sobbing and yelping over Mother's lap, brunching up the duvet in his hands to avoid trying to interfere with the spanking.
Mindful of her son's distress, and the deep reddish hue that spread from the crest of his cheeks to his upper thighs, Maud drew the spanking to a close with a few last blistering swats to his sit spots. Dropping the hairbrush at her feet, Maud began rubbing Mycroft's back gently. "We're all done now Mikey," she soothed. "You've learned a very good lesson, I know. You were very good and brave and Mummy is so proud. Such a good boy. Everything is all forgiven."
Sobbing heavily, Mycroft laid over her knees for a moment before trying to get up. He quickly pulled his pants back up and kicked off his trousers before allowing Mother to cuddle him close. Sitting as comfortable as was possible on her lap, his bottom hanging between her knees, Mycroft was more than happily to let Mother snuggle and fuss over him while he cried out the last of his tears.
22 Years Later
Mycroft Holmes was panicking. The man who manipulated elections for the good of the world, enabled and facilitated difficult negotiations between countries that seemed to endlessly wish to blow each other up with every sort of weapon imaginable, was brought to his knees by his nine-year-old sister. Never in his life had he ever met anyone so easily able to break him as the sister he was trying very hard to raise.
They'd made an unscheduled trip to the family cottage. The Holmes family had not visited the cottage on a regular basis for years and Rose had only been six-years-old the last time they took up a brief period of residence at the cottage. It was just too far from London to be convenient for Mycroft, and really, this unscheduled trip was incredibly far from convenient, if he was honest. But somehow he had the feeling that this would be the last trip the four of them would make together.
Mother's health was growing worse and worse by the day, though one had to admire her bravery and her continued presence in Rose's life, doing her best to mother the growing girl. Rose, for her part, never complained and loved all the time spent with her mother, even if it was a few hours snuggled in bed with her watching telly or playing a board game. The time was coming, Mycroft knew, that he would need to find some way to tell Rose that Mother was dying. He had yet to discover the right way to tell his sensitive sister, and Mother wanted him to put it off as long as possible, not wanting her condition to overshadow Rose's life.
With all this in mind, Mycroft had readily given in to his mother's desire to spend the weekend at the cottage, albeit bringing a vast amount of work with him. After all, Rose and Sherlock were perfectly able to keep themselves occupied without needing either himself or Mother hovering around them with threats to make them behave.
Perhaps, in hindsight, he should have kept Rose close enough to make threats about her behavior. If he had, she might be here now rather than missing. Had that been the route Mycroft chose, he would even now be getting work done, rather than frantically combing the area for Rose. He had gone off in one direction while Sherlock had gone in the other. There were enough walking trails, wooded areas, and land for her to be virtually anywhere and take hours upon hours to locate. Though Rose was going to wish he never found her when he got his hands on her! She was going to be one very sorry little girl!
"I think one of us should go to the village and alert the authorities," Sherlock said, meeting Mycroft back at the house after two hours spent searching. "There's so much ground to be covered and neither of us have any idea when she left."
For once, Sherlock wasn't to blame for Rose not being where she was supposed to be. Both brothers had dropped the ball today, rather preoccupied by their particular kinds of work that kept them from thinking about Mother. Rose had been occupied and then, quite suddenly, the brothers had noticed she was missing.
"I had rather been hoping to avoid that, but you're right, there's just too much area for the two of us to cover," Mycroft agreed with a sigh. "You keep looking; I'll drive into the village. Call me if you find her."
Ten minutes later, Mycroft was in the car and on the way into the nearby village, just four miles away. It was small, but there was at least one officer of the law for the general area and if anyone could organize a search party for a missing girl, it would be that officer. Time was of the essence because in an hour's time it would be dark out.
As it turned out, Mycroft found he had no need to alert any authorities about Rose. He spotted the child in question exiting the library just as he drove into the village. "ROSENWYN!" Mycroft quickly parked the car and was very relieved to see that Rose was stopped and waiting for him and he hurriedly closed the distance between them.
Rose was waiting for him just outside the library with a big smile on her face. "Oh, Mycroft! Hi!" she greeted her eldest brother. Just a few seconds later, she began to rethink her greeting as Rose watched Mycroft's face grow dark.
Briefly thrown by her nonchalant greeting, it took Mycroft several seconds to formulate a proper response. "Oh, Mycroft, hi? Oh, Mycroft, hi?! Is that seriously all you have to say for yourself?!" He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her with barely controlled anger written all over his face. "Have you been here this entire time?"
The little girl stared up at her angry brother with wide eyes, a blush spreading across her cheekbones. "Uh…"
""Uh" is not an answer," Mycroft replied, his tone dangerously quiet. "Should I take that to mean you have no explanation of where you've been or what you've been doing for who knows how long?" He gave her thirty seconds to think of a response, not at all surprised when she continued to stare at him like a deer in headlights. "We're going back to the cottage and you can think about how to answer those questions on the way there. If you don't have answers by the time we arrive, you can spend further time thinking in the corner. Get in the car, now."
Rose didn't need to be told twice and immediately made a beeline for the passenger side of the car as Mycroft called Sherlock to inform him that Rose had been located. Once he got into the car, the two siblings sat silently the entire way back to the cottage, which was admittedly not a very long ride. Rose spent most of it trying to figure out just how much trouble she was in.
Had they been at home, or even the country house, Mycroft would have sent his wayward sister to his study to account for her actions. Unfortunately, the cottage was on the small and cozy side, so the eldest Holmes was forced to make do with directing Rose to her room. He took a few minutes to ensure he was able to remain calm before following her up.
Rose was sitting on her bed when he arrived and fully expected to be shouted at once again. Thus she was greatly surprised when Mycroft immediately scooped her up for a hug rather than begin his bellowing once more. She immediately snuggled into his strong hold and the two sat there for a few moments before anyone spoke.
"Do you have any idea how worried about you Sherlock and I were? We searched for you for hours, Rose, and had no clue where in the world you'd gone or why," Mycroft said sternly while he still held her tight. "What in heaven's name were you thinking? Do you have a proper explanation for me?"
"I didn't mean to worry you," Rose began. "But I was bored and there weren't any books that were interesting here. I saw the library when we came through the village yesterday and didn't think it was all that far, so I decided to go."
Mycroft opened his mouth to scold her, but suddenly paused before he could get even a word out. Inwardly he both chuckled and cringed. How many times had he said that Rose was so much like Sherlock? Well apparently, she was quite a bit like him as well. Secretly, this pleased him very much. Not the unauthorized trek to the village, but the fact that she would do the exact thing he had done at her age, was a telling sign of how alike they truly were. In fact, that was all the more reason to make an impression on her now so that she wouldn't pull something like this again; he certainly hadn't done it again after Mother had soundly paddled his bottom.
With this in mind, Mycroft moved Rose to stand her on her feet and gave her a stern look, inwardly smiling as Rose began shuffling her feet. "When have you ever been allowed to just "go" somewhere, Rosenwyn? Aren't you required to ask permission or, at a bare minimum, tell an adult?"
The carpet was looking very interesting just then, Rose thought to herself, keeping her head down as Mycroft scolded her. "No. And yes."
The eldest Holmes sighed. "Head up and look at me," Mycroft directed. "Try that again."
Rose's face flushed as she looked at him. "No, I'm not allowed to just leave, but you and Sherlock were busy, so…" Her voice trailed off.
He rolled his eyes a bit. "That is a ridiculous reason to do something you know full well you are not allowed to do, young lady. Your reason for breaking the rules is immaterial, Rosenwyn. You knew you were breaking them; am I right?"
The little girl shuffled her feet again and gave him a shrug. "I didn't think about it like that. I wasn't trying to make you worried or keep you from work My, honest."
That sounded rather familiar, he was forced to admit to himself. "Then I believe you are in need of a reason to think about it in those terms in the future, and I am more than capable of giving you such a reason," Mycroft decided. "You wait right here, I'll be back directly."
Leaving Rose sitting on her bed, Mycroft quietly slipped into his mother's room. Locating the hairbrush, he exited, shutting the door behind him, and went right back to Rose's room. "Do you understand why you're getting spanked?" he asked as he sat on her bed.
"My! My, no! Not that!" Rose protested, pointing at the hairbrush.
"That's enough complaining out of you," he responded very firmly. "If you didn't want your bottom paddled you shouldn't have wandered off like that with complete disregard for the rules. Now are you going to behave for me, or do you need some time in the corner to think about cooperating?"
Rose pouted a bit but shook her head no.
"Answer me verbally, please."
"No."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Considering the number of rules she knowingly violated, a bit of formality might be in order to make a stronger impression. "No, what?" he prompted.
A reddish hue settled on her face as Rose answered him quietly. "No, sir."
"That's better. Take these down," he instructed, gesturing at her shorts. "And then over my lap."
Rose obeyed, but was clearly did so unhappily, making a slight whining noise as she pushed her shorts to her knees and bent over Mycroft's lap. Or attempted to at least; she was short enough that Mycroft assisted her a bit before adjusting her position, which only caused more whining. Her pants were then pulled down as well.
"My please! Don't use the brush, please!" Rose begged. "Please don't!" She squirmed anxiously a bit, but made no serious effort to escape. Mycroft's arm was already around her waist to hold her securely across his knee, making escape impossible.
"Rosenwyn, I cannot think of even a single reason not to paddle your naughty bottom soundly. Especially after how worried Sherlock and I were," Mycroft pointed out. He could hear her mumble something and asked her to repeat it.
"My bottom isn't naughty," the red faced imp retorted. "Body parts can't actually misbehave of their own accord."
That was all Sherlock, Mycroft thought with a grimace. Moving the brush to his left hand, he swatted her thighs once each with his hand. "Now is not the time to be smart, Rosenwyn," he stated when she yelled out. "It is a turn of phrase, something I know you are aware of, considering the number of times I've said it to you in your short lifetime. You are naughty, therefore your bottom is also naughty and it will pay the price for your misbehavior. Any other cheeky remarks you'd like to make before we get started?" Mycroft rested the hairbrush menacingly on her cheeks.
"No! I mean, no sir!" Rose quickly corrected. "Sorry."
"When you disregard cardinal rules in the manner you did today, you will be spanked each and every time that you do," he lectured briefly. Raising the hairbrush he brought it down with a hearty, stinging smack on the crest of her left cheek. Ignoring the accompanying yelp, Mycroft spanked sharp and fast from crest to crease, painting the left side of her bottom pink, before following the same pattern on the right.
"Ow! Ow Mycroft! Noooooo! Ow!" Rose yelped. There was no being brave or stoic when it came to the hairbrush, which set her little bum on fire with each stingy swat. The discomfort grew quickly, first on one side of her bum then the other as Mycroft repeated his pattern. Just when the nine-year-old was certain it couldn't get any worse, the hairbrush began peppering her sit spots.
Aiming for a sharp sting with each swat, Mycroft painted her sit spots a cherry red before moving the brush back to her cheeks. Rather than following any pattern at all this time, the brush landed at random, sometimes twice in the same spot, raising the color of Rose's bum to a shade befitting her name. All the while Mycroft did his best to drown out her yelps and tears, which were both coming in full force.
"Sorry, I'm sorry My, I'm sorry!" Rose pleaded. Her little hands held on to his trouser leg in an effort to keep from reaching back, but even that didn't work when the brush visited her tender sit spots a second time. "Owwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeee!" she squealed, throwing a hand back.
Mycroft stopped only long enough to capture her hand and hold it to the small of her back. "You do not put your hands back while being spanked," he scolded, using particularly sharp swats directed at her upper thighs to emphasize his point.
The swats to her thighs opened the floodgate of tears. Rose was crying before those very punishing smacks, but it went up in volume and intensity after the hairbrush finished scalding that tender area. Sobbing openly, she twisted and shifted her hips, trying desperately to avoid the spanks but Mycroft was an expert and ever missed no matter how much she tried to make that happen.
Determined to impart a lasting lesson, Mycroft landed another round of smacks to her cheeks, moving at a measured pace from the crest to her sit spots, lightening the strength behind the swats considerable. He doubted Rose noticed the difference however. With one last swat for each of her sit spots, Mycroft dropped the hairbrush on the floor and eased Rose's pants back up over her scarlet bum.
Rose was sobbing for all she was worth by the time the spanking ended and it was only the fact that Mycroft lifted her up into his arms that made her realize it was finally over. When he hugged her tightly, she pressed her face against his shoulder and continued to cry hard enough that her shoulders shook.
Knowing it was a very well earned bottom warming did not make it easier for Mycroft to hear her tears. It bothered him more than he'd ever admit to be the person to make her cry so hard, but he would rather spank her and make her cry every single day than lose her. Holding her as tight as he dared, Mycroft rocked her gently in his arms. "It's all done poppet, all over. You were my big, brave girl and I'm so proud of you," he praised. "You're forgiven and I still love you very much." This he whispered in her ear, wanting to make sure she heard it over her tears. "No matter how many ridiculous things you do, or how many times I have to spank you, I will always love you."
Mycroft kept up the litany of soothing and praising, determined to do so until she finishing having her well deserved cry. That was when he heard her whisper something but wasn't quite able to catch it. "What was that poppet?"
"Don't tell Mummy," Rose whispered, taking her face out of his shoulder. "I know she's not feeling good and I don't want to bother her. I don't want her to think I'm very bad either."
"Mother loves you, and nothing you do will change that. I know you know that poppet," Mycroft reminded her gently. "You're not a bad girl, you made a mistake and had your spanking and that's all there is too it. There's nothing bad in you at all, ever. And I know for a fact that Mother would still love you even if we told her about your jaunt into the village today."
"You do?" Rose asked. She kicked off her shorts and cuddled closer to her big brother. "How do you know?"
"If I tell you, you must promise me that you'll never tell Sherlock. Do you promise?" Mycroft asked seriously. When she nodded earnestly he went on to say, "Because I did the exact same thing when I was your age."
Rose's pretty blue eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock. "No! Never! You wouldn't ever, My!"
"I very much did do the same thing," Mycroft replied, chuckling a bit. "And Mummy paddled my bum with her hairbrush, the same way I paddled yours with it. So I know for a fact that she wouldn't think you were very bad, because she didn't think that about me. Remember, it's our choices that are poor or bad, not ourselves."
"Did Mummy teach you that too? Did Mummy teach you everything you know? Is that why I get spanked, because she spanked you?" Rose's mind was bursting with curiosity as she eagerly awaited his response.
"Yes she did; she and Father both taught me that. Mother didn't teach me everything I know," Mycroft admitted. "But she taught me a very great many things, and is, as you know, an exceptional mother." Even though her health was fading fast, Mycroft admired his mother's determination to continue mothering all three of them, but especially Rose. Story time, music time, playing board games, French braiding her hair in the mornings, their indomitable mother soldiered on and gave everything of herself each day for the little girl he held in his arms.
"My?" Rose spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "Mummy isn't going to ever get better, is she?"
Mycroft knew this day would come and had known it would for quite some time. Rose was so bright and perceptive and despite their best efforts to shield her from the fact that Maud was truly fading had finally noticed the changes that they couldn't hide. Either that or it had taken her this long to be brave enough to ask.
"No," Mycroft replied quietly. "She's not going to get better." Instinctively he held her tighter as her eyes filled with sadness. "But she's here and loves us all very much." He couldn't bring himself to say that Mother was dying before their eyes; not just yet. He himself still struggled with the knowledge that Mother would not always be there.
Rose nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. "What do we do, My? What do we do for Mummy?"
"We go on as we always have poppet," he soothed, running his fingers through her always unruly curls. "That's what will help Mother most is to continue on as we have been."
"Okay. We can do that, especially if it makes Mummy happy," Rose agreed. "I'm really glad I have you My."
Mycroft kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad I have you too, poppet." He smiled as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, suddenly looking mischievous. "I know that look! What do you want Rose?"
"Cake! Mummy and I made some this morning, before I got bored. She sat at the table and told me all the steps and it came out just lovely. Only we haven't eaten any yet! That's really very sad, My. We should go eat the cake before it feels unloved." Rose gave him a brilliant smile that he couldn't possibly hope to resist.
The eldest Holmes gaped at the littlest Holmes for several seconds before laughing loudly. "You are absolutely delightful sometimes, do you know that?"
"I try!" Rose quipped. "Come on, it's cake time! Cake, cake, cake!"
"Alright, alright! Put your shorts back on Rose, or change into your pajamas and we'll go eat cake," Mycroft acquiesced with a smile. After kissing her head one more time, he exited her room and headed downstairs to start plating some cake. Naturally he awarded himself an extra large slice, feeling as though it was very well earned. After all, it was hard work being the eldest of the unruly Holmes siblings!