4 Days Before Maud Returns
Maud did not return home the following morning and called her eldest son to deliver the bad news. "Remind me never to complain about England's weather again," she said with a sigh. Outside her hotel room a snowstorm was blowing hard across the land, grounding every plane at every airport.
"Do you wish me to try and arrange alternate means of transportation for you? Or are you safely ensconced somewhere?" Mycroft asked, sounding a bit concerned.
"I'm quite fine Myc, I promise," Maud chuckled. "Just give Rose and Sherlock a cuddle for me."
Mycroft scowled at his mobile. "I'm not giving Sherlock a cuddle, nor would he accept one from me should I offer it, even at your behest."
Maud sighed, rolling her eyes. "You two boys! Can you possibly manage to tell him I send my love, or is that also outside of your capabilities?"
"I do believe I could manage that," Mycroft acquiesced. "Russia is making a tyrant out of you. Any other directives, Mother?" He smiled just a bit when he could hear her laughing. "I've got another call coming in Mother; I need to let you go. Contact me when the weather clears."After saying their brief goodbye, Mycroft ended the call with Maud and answered the one from his PA.
"Sir, we have a situation," Gaines said, skipping any form of polite greeting. "Philliber has disappeared and all available evidence suggests foul play."
Mycroft cursed under his breath. Philliber was one of his best men and a necessary component of his intelligence gathering network. "The last report I received from him came from Moscow six hours ago. Was a calling card left by chance?"
"No sir, there wasn't, but I suspect there will be one soon," Gaines admitted.
"He didn't by chance-"
"No sir, he and Mrs. Holmes never crossed paths."
That was a relief at least. "Double the security on her at once and I want a full report of Philliber's movements since his last report within one hour," Mycroft ordered, ending the call. So much for a pleasant breakfast and being able to take Rose to school himself! This was precisely why he would never marry. The emotional entanglement could be compromising; it posed a security risk and the potential to be a weakness for other's to exploit; and it was already difficult enough at times to stay well involved in Rose's upbringing.
Between trying to locate his employee and keeping tabs on his mother, who continued to be stranded thanks to the weather, Mycroft spent the entire day at the office, arriving home just past 2am. He left his team tracking the movements of a Russian ballerina Philliber had been spending far too much time with, knowing they would contact him with any pressing information. It was beginning to look more and more like Philliber had either been kidnapped or killed and the ballerina was their best lead at present. The woman had questionable connections, but it was too early to draw any definitive conclusions. He fervently hoped his employee would be located and found at least in a recoverable condition, rather than in a condition of the more permanent kind.
Mycroft didn't plan to sleep for long, just a few hours or so, but had sleep been his only objective, he would have stayed at the office. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept there! With Mother still detained, he felt it necessary to go home and check on his siblings. He hadn't heard from either of them all day, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. Good because it meant Rose hadn't misbehaved at school, bad because it might mean she was doing something she shouldn't be at home, with Sherlock's help. He hoped that it had been just an ordinary day and he would find Rose at least sleeping peacefully.
After putting his briefcase and other things in his study, Mycroft climbed the stairs to the second floor and went straight to Rose's room, easing the door open quietly. Sure enough, she was fast asleep, though she'd managed to kick her covers halfway off the bed. Smiling to himself, he entered the room with the intention of tucking her in snuggly so she didn't get cold. As it was, he could tell she was shivering a bit. After picking up the blanket, Mycroft tucked it tightly around her and reached over to brush a curl from her face. As his fingertips brushed her skin Mycroft could feel heat radiating from it and placed his hand on her forehead, quickly determining that she was burning up with what was likely a very high fever.
At just that moment Rose coughed; it was a loud hacking cough, followed by a wheezing sound that Mycroft found unnerving. He was about to wake her up when he was spared the effort.
"Mummy?" Rose's tiny, sleepy voice asked.
"Mother is still in Russia, there's a very big storm," Mycroft responded, rubbing her shoulder. "How long have you been sick?"
Rose's eyes fluttered open and settled on her big brother. "'m not sick," she murmured.
"I wager you are indeed sick, little miss," Mycroft sighed. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Has Sherlock been taking care of you?"
"Sometimes. He's sick too," she admitted. Rose reached for him and smiled when Mycroft lifted her up in his arms.
"You're burning up and you don't sound very good at all. I think we'll have to go to hospital and get you sorted out. I'm going to check on Sherlock and then we're all going in," he explained, dropping a kiss on top of her curly head.
She gave him an anxious look before nuzzling her face against his neck and mumbling something. "Rose, I cannot hear you. Try again," Mycroft requested.
Rose moved her face away from his neck just long enough to ask, "You're not mad at me?"
That really wasn't any clearer than when she was mumbling! "Why in heaven's name would I be angry with you? Did you do something naughty that I'm not aware of?" Mycroft could feel her shake her head no.
"You said you'd be displeased if I got sick," Rose explained, holding onto him just a little tighter.
"Well of course I'd be displeased. It's incredibly inconvenient for me when you get sick," he explained with a sigh. The words about inconvenience were said with just enough affection in them to get a smile out of her. "Is that why nobody told me you were ill?" Once again Mycroft could feel her nod, her curls tickling his jaw line. "Well that was incredibly silly. Grab Teddy and then we'll go check on Sherlock together." He could tell he wasn't going to get her out of his arms again without a tremendous fight, so it was really best not to bother.
As soon as the beloved stuffed bear was plucked up from the tangle of covers, Mycroft headed down the hallway to Sherlock's room, knocking quietly before letting himself in. Sherlock was, of course, wide awake and in the midst of a coughing fit when they arrived. "Sherlock, you little idiot, why didn't you call and tell me you both were ill?" Mycroft half-growled at his brother.
"Don't growl, you'll upset the baby," Sherlock replied. "And she wouldn't let me call you! She wanted to wait for Mummy because she thought you'd be angry."
Mycroft leveled a deadly look at his brother. "And just what did the big bad six-year-old say she was going to do you if you didn't obey her?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're an idiot Sherlock, and she is not the boss of you."
"Sure I am," Rose giggled softly. The laughter quickly turned into coughing.
"And how bad off are you?" Mycroft asked the middle Holmes. He reached out to feel Sherlock's forehead, only to have his hand batted away.
"Low grade fever, mucus producing cough, occasional wheezing, and my chest feels 'heavy' and aches. In all fairness, I was not this bad this morning," Sherlock assured his older brother. "Things progressed at an unexpected pace. I believe we both have bronchitis, if not tending to pneumonia soon in Rose's case."
Mycroft's lips thinned with anger as he slapped the back of Sherlock's head, hard.
"What was that for?!" Sherlock asked, before pouting and rubbing his head.
"Because you're a fool, that's why! For god sakes, why didn't someone call me as you've been instructed to do?!" Mycroft exclaimed irritably, his face clouded with anger. He fully intended to continue scolding his younger brother but a little whimper from Rose made him take a deep breath and rein himself in. Sometimes he forgot how sensitive she was to raised, angry voices and instantly felt guilty for not keeping a firmer hold on his temper.
"Never mind all that for now. Get your coat and shoes Sherlock, we're going to hospital," Mycroft instructed as he soothingly rubbed Rose's back.
A short time later the Holmes family found itself in a hospital exam room with two beds, one of which was reluctantly occupied by Sherlock, and the other Mycroft was merely sitting on as Rose continued to cling to him like a vine. His hand continued to rub slow circles on her back as he waited with growing impatience for the doctor.
"I really ought to soundly spank the both of you," Mycroft commented, frustration evident in his tone. He sighed when Rose made a slight whining sound against his shoulder, which suggested he better clarify why he was tempted to do so. "Not for being sick, but for not telling me. And I just might, too, when you're both well again. Keep that in mind; perhaps it will convince you both to be cooperative patients." He rolled his eyes as his younger siblings gave him identical pouts in response to his threat.
The doctor arrived shortly thereafter and set up both younger Holmes siblings for x-rays and blood work after a brief examination. It seemed like hours before the man returned, or at least it did to Mycroft who was forced to continue holding a clingy Rose. Rose had two sets of behaviors whenever she was ill: one was to cling incessantly and the other was to wander. The latter generally occurred due to boredom or because she was beginning to feel better. Mycroft fervently hoped that Mother would be able to return home soon because he wasn't entirely convinced he could care for Rose all on his own, without someone to share the cuddle and corralling duties.
Just as Mycroft wished for some assistance his mobile vibrated inside his suit coat pocket. "I think Mother is calling," he murmured. He shifted Rose a bit in order to retrieve it and as soon as he saw the ID of the caller, his heart sank. It was his PA, Gaines, and if she was calling at this time in the morning, which was nearly 4am by this point, it was either to be good news or very, very bad news.
"Hold just a moment," he said, answering the call. Mycroft put the mobile down for a moment and stood up, still holding Rose. "It's not Mother. Take the baby," he murmured, deftly passing her over to Sherlock.
"'m not a baby," the half-asleep Rose murmured.
"Certainly you are," Sherlock told her with a chuckle. He cuddled her tightly to his chest, smiling as she wrapped an arm around his neck. Even running a fever himself he could feel how high Rose's currently was and instantly regretted not contacting Mycroft sooner. He'd deserved the slap upside his head he'd got earlier, and several more good ones besides.
"You're the baby because you were born last of us all and we like you that way," he explained. Not to mention the fact that Mycroft certainly acted as if she were his baby, even if the eldest Holmes did sternly reprimand anyone who dared to identify him as her father.
"I'm not going to be pleased with your news, am I Gaines?" Mycroft asked.
"No, sir, unfortunately not," Gaines admitted. "Philliber and his ballerina are dead and there's a serious bomb threat should airplanes be released anytime soon. Potentially multiple bombs, headed for London as soon as the weather clears."
That was about the worst possible news at that moment. His mother was in Russia and had the very real potential of getting onto a plane with a bomb, terrorists were threatening London and god only knew why, plus he had two sick children to care for. "Enact the plans for Critical Level 9 and set up what amounts to a battle station at the townhouse. We'll use the basement office and people can take over the dining and sitting rooms as need be."
"At the townhouse sir?" Gaines asked.
"Yes. Rose and Sherlock are both ill and I am, apparently, on my own with them." This was going to be an unmitigated nightmare, he was certain of it. "Unless there is a way to clone me that's the only option we have."
The younger Holmes siblings shared a look of abject horror at the mere thought of more than one Mycroft in the world. "I think that's a very bad idea and I don't like it," Rose decided, giving a sleepy pout.
"I'm quite certain you don't," Mycroft agreed, giving Rose a look. "Seeing as how it would mean you'd been forced to behave yourself on a more regular basis."
"Sorry?" Gaines asked.
"I was talking to Rose, not you," he hurried to reassure her. "I'll be back home as quickly as I can, get things working without me until then."
An hour later Mycroft returned home with his patients in tow. He was thankful he had discovered they were will when he did, or Rose might have ended up hospitalized with pneumonia. He carried her into the house, glad she was half-asleep… or rather she had been until she saw the bustle of activity.
"What's going on?" Rose asked, opening her eyes wide to survey the scene. "Why are these people here? Are they your people?"
"They are and you will not pay any attention to them at all, because you will be resting in bed until you are better. No wandering around, just resting," Mycroft said firmly. "I need you to be very good for me, because I will be very busy. Can you manage that, do you think? For me?"
Rose let out a sigh. "What if I need you to rub my tummy? Or if I'm very, very bored and lonely?"
"Regardless of your needs, you will remain in bed. I will check in on you frequently and do my very best to take good care of you," Mycroft assured her. "But you will stay in bed if you don't want a warm bottom in addition to your other miseries." That was by and large an empty threat; he would have to be the worst ogre in the world to spank her while she was ill, but he hoped that she took him at his word and behaved accordingly.
Rose's only response was an adorably sleepy half whinge, half murmur of consent. Sherlock, on the other hand, glared darkly at Mycroft, his look threatening the eldest Holmes with great bodily harm should he dare to spank sick little Rosie. Admittedly Mycroft knew that Mother wouldn't approve, but she wasn't exactly home to help him either, so hopefully the threat would do the trick.
Once upstairs, the siblings parted ways with Sherlock going to his own room with Mycroft carrying Rose into hers. The fact that she was half asleep worked in his favor, making it very easy to tuck her in. "You've had your medicine and I'll come up and check on you soon. For now just worry about sleeping. If you need something, you can get Sherlock. He's less sick than you are and he can get me if necessary, alright?"
She nodded, her eyes already closed, burrowing a bit deeper under the covers as he tucked them around her. "Night My," Rose murmured when he bent to kiss her forehead, falling asleep before he even left the room.
The next twelve hours went by in a blur and, thankfully, Rose stayed in bed for all of them. His PA cheerfully lent her assistance to check-in on the patients, warm up soups and other food that would be good for their sore throats and Rose's upset stomach. Gaines was a godsend but she was not a child wrangler.
Rose, in fact, made it fourteen hours, most of which were spent sleeping, before she began her cycle of alternately clinging and wandering. It was the clinging that came first and she soon sought him out in his alternate, better equipped office in the basement. Thank god he'd thought to put one in a few years prior or they'd really be in a mess.
He looked over from a screen where he watched several of those in his employ searching a plane when he heard a little knock on the door. "Keep an eye on that," Mycroft told Gaines before crossing the room to find his little visitor. "This is not your bed," he said firmly. "What do you need, Rose?"
"My tummy is icky and it hurts," Rose whimpered. "Will you rub it?"
Mycroft's eyes flickered back and forth between the screen and his sister before Gaines waved him off. "Did you ask Sherlock first?" he asked, even as she picked Rose up.
"He's sleeping, he's sleeping a lot more than I am," she explained, nestling close. "Can we use Mummy's lotion? It smells so lovely, just like her."
"Do we have to? I don't particularly fancy the idea of smelling like flowers for the next few hours," he admitted. The sad look on Rose's face told him that yes, he did have to.
Within a few moments the lotion had been retrieved and Rose was lying on top of her covers. She moved her pajama top away from her belly, exposing it for a soothing rub… Only Rose looked positively horrified mere seconds later when Mycroft began to squirt a bit of lotion onto his hand. "Noooooooo," she whined, pushing her shirt back down. "Do it like Mummy, My!"
His hand paused mid-squeeze of the bottle. "How am I doing it wrong? Put lotion on my hand, rub it on your stomach, you feel better and I smell like flowers. What's the problem?" Mycroft asked, looking genuinely confused.
"Mummy squirts out little drops on my tummy and I laugh because it's cold and then she rubs the lotion in," Rose explained. Her lower lip was already wobbling, indicating that her big brother had best not refuse her demands.
"Oh for heaven sakes," Mycroft grumbled. "Fine, fine, fine. Please don't start crying." He pushed her top out of the way enough to begin squirting little drops of lotion on her stomach. It seemed to please her, and Rose even drew a smile out of him when she smiled and gave a little giggle. Feeling quite pleased with himself for earning that giggle, Mycroft began to rub the lotion in.
"Too hard!" Rose immediately protested! "You have to do it softly like butterflies wings! Don't you know anything?! Weren't you ever sick in your whole life?"
"That is not an appropriate tone," Mycroft responded, giving her a glare. "Sass me again and I won't rub your stomach at all! Besides, this is wholly ridiculous and is little more than a ritual to make you feel better emotionally with no medicinal value whatsoever."
His little patient promptly burst into tears. "I want Mummy! Bring Mummy home! You're very awful Mycroft, I want Mummy!"
"What did you do?"
Mycroft turned to find a groggy Sherlock standing in the doorway. "You're looking worse and worse, brother mine. Apparently I'm not doing... this… properly."
"You're an idiot Mycroft, go away," Sherlock ordered. He promptly crossed the room and kissed Rose's forehead. "Did big bad Mycroft not rub your tummy right?" He smirked when Mycroft sighed and got up to exit the room. "Can I try?" Softly he began ghosting his fingers across her stomach, slowly rubbing in the lotion. By the time he finished, Rose was nearly asleep once more.
Six hours later, Gaines returned from a brief respite in the guest room to find her boss in a state of command and authority while simultaneously looking perhaps the most domestic she'd ever seen him. His tie had been tossed haphazardly across the desk where it was joined by his waistcoat. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Mycroft was crouching beside a make-shift bed on the floor, whispering orders to various employees in Russian while bathing Rose's face and arms with a cold flannel. It was rather refreshing to see him looking so human. No one would ever believe that Mycroft Holmes was capable of such gentleness, or at all willing to put together two couch cushions as a bed for his sister.
"Her fever spiked again," Mycroft explained. "She keeps crying and clinging if I try and leave her in her room." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly before pushing the bowl of cool water and flannel aside and picking Rose up once more. He rocked her in his arms, all the while keeping in contact with his people, until finally she was asleep once again.
2 and ½ Days Before Maud Returns Home
For all the sleeping she did, which Mycroft was quite thankful for, he knew they were in for another rough day or so before she began the wandering phase of her recovery process, born out of boredom and the oddest burst of energy. He didn't understand it, not even Sherlock had been so clingy and prone to wander around getting into mischief when ill so where Rose inherited such nonsensical behavior from he had no idea.
Had his mother been home, she would have reminded Mycroft that he often behaved that same way when he was little and became ill.
Whatever the cause it was decidedly difficult trying to manage the delicate operations under way, keep his mother well protected against any potential fallout of said operations, and have a tiny six-year-old clinging to him. He'd eventually given up the idea of keeping her on the make-shift bed while she was so determined to attach herself to him and so Mycroft moved the rocking chair from her room into his basement office. It was a damn good thing none of those he was in constant communication with over in Russia could see him! Mycroft was certain he looked like an absolute idiot: a rocking chair replacing his usual desk chair, Rose curled up in his lap all snuggled under a blanket, one arm wrapped around her to keep her from falling out of the chair while he issued orders in an attempt to keep the free world in order and simultaneously discover the culprits.
Gaines, however, thought it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen and covertly took a photo of it with her mobile.
1 and 1/2 Days Before Maud Returns
"Hello. I'm Rose. Who are you? Do you have a gun? Can I touch it? I want to fire a gun someday, can you teach me? I think that would be brilliant and then I could work for My when I grow up."
A man in his early twenties looked up from the various images and documents he had been tasked with examining to see a tiny girl watching him intently. He hadn't even known his boss had a daughter. No, not daughter. Definitely not. He'd had his head bit off for that mistake the day before but really, what was he to assume when Mycroft Holmes of all people was being so… domestic with a child that looked so much like him, save the messy curls? Personally he found it disturbing, having never considered his boss fully human before, but apparently he was.
"Did you hear me? My throat is scratchy, sorry 'bout that. I'm Rose and I want to play with your gun," the little girl repeated.
"I don't have a gun and my name is David Miller. Don't you have somewhere else you should be? I'm trying to work here," he pointed out. "Where's your keeper?"
"Who, Sherlock? He's sleeping. He hardly ever sleeps," Rose explained. "So his body is making him sleep loads in order to get better, but I'm feeling better now and I'm lonely upstairs. Sleepy Sherlock is not good company. I bet I can help you with what you're doing! I learn all sorts of things. Right now I'm teaching myself how to break coded messages. Next I want to learn about how engines work and then I'm going to drive a car with a very big engine. I haven't figured out how to reach the pedals yet though." She let out a little sigh of frustration. The trials and tribulations of being petite!
"And you do have a gun; I can see the outline of it. We're not supposed to have firearms in the house, Mummy says. She had to say because Sherlock brought one home one time that he found somewhere and Mummy thought he might have taken it from a dead person and really can't he just leave the police alone. But we're not 'llowed because they're dangerous. I read a book two weeks ago called Guns, Germs, and Steel about how the western world became homogenized. Have you read it? It's quite good." Rose stood on her tip toes, trying to see precisely what the man was doing on the dining table.
David stared at her for a moment, his mouth hanging open. "How old are you again? And if you aren't allowed to play with firearms- a rule I never thought I'd actually hear recited by a child- why do you want mine? Which you can't have, by the way."
"Six! Nearly seven," Rose clarified. "Just before Christmas time, which is the best time to have a birthday, because you get twice the presents! But all the things Mummy and Mycroft say aren't allowed are the best fun and I've always wanted a gun. One of the old ones that the pirates had, because I'm a pirate sometimes, with a ship and everything! Sherlock is my first mate and he does a very good job." She stood up as tall as she could and peered at the closest document. "That's Russian, I know that language. It has very funny letters and I like writing it. Do you want me to tell you what it says?"
"ROSENWYN ARAMANTHA HOLMES!"
Rose's eyes went wide as she turned her head in the direction of her brother's bellow, watching him stalk into the dining room and put his hands on his hips.
"This is not where you belong and we've had this discussion five times today and god help you if you asked someone about a gun again!" Mycroft scolded. "Your bed is upstairs and your naughty bottom should be in it!"
Her face flushed red with guilt, but she gave her eldest brother a spectacular pout all the same. "But My, it's very lonely upstairs and I haven't got anything to do at all!"
Mycroft's eyebrow quirked. "You have at least one hundred books in your bedroom alone, not to mention the very well stocked library we have in this home. I know for a fact you have not read every single book our family owns while recuperating."
"Can I have a dog? Then I wouldn't be lonely when I'm supposed to rest and then I'd be very good," Rose pointed out.
That sounded familiar, at least in part. "No! You are exhausting enough, thank you very much! UPSTAIRS! BED! NOW!" He pointed towards the staircase to make certain she knew where to go, just in case she didn't. When she let out a little bitty noise of protest at the raised voice, he absolutely refused to feel guilty about it at all.
Two hours later Mycroft found her out of bed yet again, standing on a chair with her head halfway in the freezer. "Rose, you are not having ice cream! We talked about that this morning. The dairy isn't good for you right now and Gaines bought ice lollies for you instead. Will you please take one of those and go back to bed? Keep this up and I'll tie you to your bed!"
Grabbing an ice lolly, Rose giggled at the threat and scooted out of the kitchen, keeping herself out of arm's reach in case Mycroft should be tempted to smack her.
It was going to be a very long day, Mycroft thought. He could only hope that it wouldn't be too many more days until things were returned to normal and Mother was home.
…Sadly for Mycroft, life just wasn't going his way.
12 Hours Before Maud Returns
Mycroft was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted in a way no person should ever be. The crisis was nearly contained, and Mother would be home shortly thereafter since thanks to the weather clearing up, as would his people whom he intended to remove as soon as was humanly possible. Sherlock kept quiet and slept much of the time but Rose… Rose was everywhere but where she should be. Even now, as he stepped out of a much needed shower he could hear her.
"Bless your beautiful hide! Wherever you-" Rose was forced to stop singing by a round of coughing that wracked her slight body, reminding her that she was still recovering. Once it passed, she resumed singing along with a musical on the telly. "…But I'm a-willin' to bet, you're the gal for me!"
By the time Mycroft dressed and headed down to see what the hell she was up to now, Rose was amid another coughing fit, looking far more pale than he was comfortable with, and seemed to be having an argument with Gaines.
"You can't be down here right now Rose," Gaines scolded. "Nor should you be making such noise! Or singing and making yourself cough so much. Honestly, can you not give your poor brother a break?"
Rather than respond, Rose hurled a DVD case at Gaines while she continued to cough. It was only after the DVD case hit a lamp and nearly knocked it over, rather than hit its intended target, that she spotted Mycroft.
"You are so lucky you're ill right now or you'd be getting that bottom soundly paddled," Mycroft scolded. "You need to rest, not be singing, and not throwing things at people either. When are you going to get over this throwing business of yours?" He took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying to rein in his temper. "Apologizes to Miss Gaines."
Shuffling her feet a bit, Rose turned to look at the PA once more. "Sorry I threw it at you," she said quietly. While she might be lonely and bored out of her mind upstairs, Rose didn't actually want Mycroft to be upset with her. Her heart sank when Mycroft crooked his finger at her, beckoning her over to him.
"You need to be resting Rose and doing as you're told. I've had enough of this nonsense and I suggest you regard this as your very final warning," Mycroft told her, his tone low and dangerous. He began to list her numerous instances of misbehavior, hoping to impress upon her how very close she was to getting spanked, sick or not.
"There will be no more singing, dancing, bothering my employees, trying to steal ice cream, attempting to make yourself lunch only to set a tea towel on fire again, take and attempt to decipher documents you have no business even seeing let alone decoding, or anything else you can possibly come up with to be the most frustrating child in the history of the world!" Mycroft took a deep breath, not wanting to shout at her, even if it would be deserved. "If you get out of bed and start any of this nonsense again before Mother comes home, so help me god, I will tie you to your bed so you have to stay there! Have I made myself quite clear to you?"
Her eyes wide, Rose nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be very good Mycroft, I swear. I'm not trying to be awful and annoying," she added, a bit of sadness in her tone.
"I know Rose. You are simply… you," Mycroft murmured. "Come along, I think I can spare a few moments to read you a short story before I finish working." Taking her hand in his, the siblings went back upstairs and settled into Rose's rocking chair for a bit of story time.
5 Hours Before Maud Returns Home
The world had been set to rights once more. Mother was well on her way home, as were those in his employ, and the threat completely neutralized… at least until the next one! It had been far too long since he'd last slept a full night and over the past four days and some odd hours, had only slept about five hours during that time. Most of that five hours had been in chunks of 15-20 minutes that had refreshed him just enough to struggle on and Mycroft was looking forward to crawling under the duvet for a very long sleep.
Before turning in, Mycroft made his typical rounds of the house. Or at least he started to, when he heard a noise in the kitchen. He was really going to strangle that little girl one of these days! Heading into the kitchen, he spotted Rose attempting to make tea. He cleared his throat loudly, causing her to drop the kettle with a bang and whirl around to stare at him like a deer in headlights.
"What are you doing? Didn't we have this conversation about you the kitchen several times in the past forty-eight hours or so?" Mycroft asked, too tired to even growl at her properly.
Rose shuffled her feet, shifting her weight back and forth between them as she tried to decipher how mad he was. "Uh… err… well… uh…" she squeaked.
Mycroft sighed heavily. "Use your words Rose, preferably to tell the truth."
"I was going to make tea for you," Rose said in a tiny voice. "The special kind Mummy says helps people sleep, so you could have a very nice sleep." Immediately upon confessing this her gaze dropped to the floor, which meant she missed the fond smile that graced Mycroft's face for a brief moment.
"That was very thoughtful of you Rose," he said sincerely. Not that I want tea covered in coughing little girl germs, Mycroft mentally reflected. "However, you did not do what I asked you to do, did you? Didn't I say you needed to stay out of the kitchen and especially away from mucking about with appliances?"
Keeping her head down still, she nodded.
"I swear Rose, you have left me very little choice," Mycroft stated in a tired, yet exasperated tone. "You cannot manage to stay in bed all on your own and I wouldn't put it past you to start another fire in a misguided attempt to be helpful and thoughtful so I'm going to do exactly what I said I would do."
This time Rose's head shot up, eyes wide, while her hands crept behind her to cup her bum protectively. "I don't want a spanking," she whimpered, her lower lip already beginning to tremble.
"I'm not going to spank you. I am, however, going to tie you to your bed so that you stay in it and I can get a few hours rest without worrying you'll burn the house down around my ears while I'm at it," Mycroft declared.
Five minutes later, Mycroft did precisely that, making certain the knot would pull free if she really tugged at it. After all, he didn't want her to be stuck there should an emergency arise. Once it was tied around the bedpost, he then tied it around her, making sure to tuck the knot behind her so Rose wouldn't fuss with it. He was a little bit proud at the way he'd stunned her into silence as she watched the whole process.
"I need to sleep before I collapse, you could use more sleep even if you don't think you do, and I truly don't want you injured because you're running loose while I'm asleep," Mycroft explained gently. "This isn't a punishment," he added. "It's genuinely a safety precaution because I don't have the energy to keep you out of trouble. I need a couple hours of sleep. You understand that, correct?"
Rose nodded. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble," she told him quietly, one finger idly tracing the pattern of her duvet.
"You're worth every bit of it," Mycroft whispered before he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Try to sleep for me, alright? If you do in fact need something, shout for me and I'll come straight away. You're a good girl Rose, truly. You're just also a Holmes and there's really no helping that."
That comment earned him a smile. "I'll be good this time, promise. I love you My."
He tucked in the covers tightly around her and smiled. "I love you too," he said softly. "Sleep sweet poppet."
Present
"So you see Mother, it was perfectly reasonable and it was in fact for her own safety. But above all, it was reasonable given the situation we found ourselves in and the fact that we still have a house that's standing and all her limbs are intact and my head hasn't exploded really ought to earn me a commendation of some sort," Mycroft explained. "Surely you can see the logic of it Mother."
Maud could only stare at her eldest son for a moment before enveloping him in a tight hug. "My poor Mikey," she murmured. "I'm sorry you've had such a rough time, but I'm so glad you were here to take care of Rose and Sherlock."
The eldest Holmes sibling couldn't help frowning a bit as he was suddenly squished to his mother's bosom against his will. Considering it was his mother, and he did love her very much, he didn't put up a fuss about it, merely responding with a sigh. Besides, she wouldn't stop until she was good and ready to finish the unwanted cuddle so what was the point of protesting?
Yet somehow, despite himself, Mycroft hugged her a bit in return. It was the exhaustion, he was certain of it!
Finally she pulled away, holding him at arm's length. "I love you very much Mycroft, but listen to me very carefully, hm?" Maud requested. "While I admit the circumstances were a bit desperate and unusual, I do not under any circumstances condone your actions. But if you ever do that to your sister again, I will take you into your own office and make you bend over your own desk for a hiding you won't soon forget. Have I made myself quite clear to you?"
Mycroft could feel the embarrassment on his face at being threatened in such a way; what made it worse was the fact that he didn't doubt for even a second that she would follow through. Still, at his age, being threatened with physical chastisement? It just couldn't be bourne! He opened his mouth to tell his mother just how inappropriate such a threat was…
"… Yes, Mother, you're quite clear." As soon as the words left his mouth, Mycroft frowned and blinked. That hadn't been what he meant to say at all! Damn his traitorous mouth, and damn the cuddling too while he was at it!
Maud smiled at the look of confusion on his face, finding it a bit adorable really since she hardly ever saw him look that way anymore. She moved closer and kissed the top of his head. "Go back to sleep now Myc," she said softly.
This time Mycroft didn't even bother trying to protest her telling him what to do and merely did as he was told.
NOTE: This chapter brought to you in large part by Office Hours! Office hours: that lovely time when you hope and pray your students will come by with questions or to talk about an assignment. Only they don't and then your madcap fellow grads somehow get you involved in a debate about how badass Andrew Jackson was … After which all ambition to do anything school related fled us all and I decided to write like the wind and thus half of this happened LOL (the rest came after homework, which do hope hasn't addled my brain too much!).
P.S.: To the lovely reviewer who said I am an enigma because my profile says American but I write like a Brit, I send much love to you and confirm for the record I am an American. However, I adore Brit TV far more than the stuff made here and try to mimic the speaking style to sound reasonably authentic. Thank you so much for such a lovely compliment, HappyGuest!