With Rose tucked into bed the two Holmes brothers sat side by side in the sitting room with their respective laptops, both searching for suggestions of birthday surprises for their sister. Every few minutes, one turned his laptop towards the other, garnering a comment or look.
Sherlock looked at the other laptop screen and scrunched up his nose. "The Royal Observatory? Really? How dull," he declared.
The eldest Holmes looked a bit flabbergasted. "How exactly is the universe dull, brother mine?"
"It's irrelevant, immaterial and outright rubbish. There are far better things to fill one's mind with. Besides, who ever heard at a birthday party for a little girl there? Ridiculous," Sherlock decided. He turned his laptop towards Mycroft, offering his suggestion instead.
A heavy sigh escaped Mycroft's lips. "Overly dramatic and highly fabricated history that functions largely for ridiculous American tourists with no educational value whatsoever. No, that won't do." He shook his head, dismissing the very idea of the London Bridge Experience from consideration.
"So I take it The Dungeons is out as well," Sherlock lamented. "There's nothing wrong with some fun that is not educational, you know. Birthdays are about fun, about making her laugh and smile, not about entertaining you or being something you'd enjoy. We can go somewhere boring and stupid for your birthday… if we absolutely have to," he added, his tone heavy with mockery.
Nearly overcome by an urge to smack his brother upside the head, Mycroft retaliated with his patented narrowed eyes, drilling a hole into Sherlock with them as his lips thinned momentarily in irritation. Siblings; such an annoyance! Well, in all fairness, Rose was largely a joy, unlike Sherlock. Or at least she was mostly a joy at any rate. God help them all as she grew closer to her teen years!
"Like that place." The younger brother pointed at the website on Mycroft's screen, advertising the H.M.S. Belfast. "That is a horrible idea, even for Rose who generally enjoys history. What could be a more boring birthday party than that?"
A dark eyebrow rose dramatically. "Are you going to attempt to be more helpful, Sherlock, or are you just intending to whinge and complain rather than contribute?"
Sherlock turned his laptop towards Mycroft, showing him the website for Disneyland Paris. He offered Mycroft a Cheshire cat-like grin, already imagining how out of place the eldest Holmes would look there… and how much fun Rose would have.
A horrified look crossed the eldest Holmes's face, complete with bulging eyes and raised eyebrows. "No," Mycroft said emphatically. "That is not happening. I'm not going anywhere near such a place and not even the baby can convince me otherwise!"
"She would love it and you know it," Sherlock stated in a scolding tone. "It's unfair to deprive her of a lovely experience just because you're afraid."
"I am not afraid! But neither am I willing to sacrifice my time to a place like that! Her birthday can be very special without all those sorts of bells and whistles. She can have fun and learn something at the same time." Mycroft gave Sherlock a particularly censorious look, attempting to warn his brother away from making any other similar activity suggestions.
"You are no fun at all," Sherlock complained. He slumped down a bit further into the couch, angling his laptop well away from Mycroft's prying eyes and let out a huff of frustration. Just a few moments later, however, his eyes lit up and he turned the screen back towards the eldest Holmes, who happened to be turning his own screen in Sherlock's direction.
The two brothers shared a rare, gleeful grin as they realized each had pulled up the website for the Royal Opera House. "It would appear we have come to a consensus," Mycroft said happily. "And a very agreeable one at that! I cannot recall the last time I saw a good opera."
"We'll make it a whole night just for Rose. Fancy dress, eat dinner at the Opera House- a very expensive one too, her very first real adult dinner out- let her select a few things from the gift shop and give her the entirety of our attention for the duration of the evening," Sherlock decided.
"I shall make the arrangements for transportation, the reservations in the Crush Room and procure the tickets. That leaves you the getting of a dress and perhaps purchasing some new shoes for Rose as well." Mycroft smirked at the horrified look on Sherlock's face.
"I don't know how to buy dresses! I don't even know what size she is! And Mother almost always had to have things bespoke or at the very least altered for her so poor Rose wasn't stuck in silly little girl clothes now that she's getting older. I don't know how to do any of that," Sherlock grumbled.
"Well neither do I," Mycroft admitted. "But one of us ought to learn about it and it might as well be you. It's not as though I have a great deal of time to take the baby shopping every time she needs something new. Ask Louise's mother for assistance, or the costume designer at the dance studio. Worst case scenario, I'll put Benchley on it but not until you make a considerable effort, brother mine."
It was wrong of him to take such satisfaction from the look of complete bewilderment on Sherlock's face, but Mycroft really couldn't help it. "Be the 'fun' brother," he added, a further barb directed at his sibling. "Don't forget, I'm the 'mean' one. Just living up to my reputation; you understand, don't you?" Continuing to smirk, Mycroft got up from the couch and headed for his study, leaving Sherlock alone in the sitting room looking utterly out of his depth.
A week before Rose's birthday, Mycroft arrived home at just past seven in the evening. He was not in the best of moods, having been contacted by the bank regarding two rather large card charges Sherlock had made. What that could mean he wasn't entirely sure. People did not use a check card to purchase drugs, but one could mostly certainly use one to procure the means to manufacture homemade cocktails with similar effects to the latest street drugs. Naturally that would require a considerable amount of scientific knowledge as not just anyone could purchase innocuous items and prepare their own home drug without acquiring the typical items that any thug off the street would use for their home meth lab.
Mycroft sincerely hoped that his suspicions in that area were unfounded. Sherlock was still being regularly drug tested, a condition of his moving back into the family home and having shared guardian responsibilities with Rose. Thus far he had been clean since his time in rehab; nearly eight full months. He was quite proud of his little brother for that, knowing Sherlock struggled still with his grief- as they all did- and a significant amount of boredom when not able to consult with the police or take on private cases.
It wasn't uncommon for people to 'fall off the wagon' as the oh-so-pedestrian saying went. Sherlock may be a particularly brilliant 21 year old, a graduate chemist in fact, but he was not impervious to temptation. The holiday season would be difficult for them all and deep down, Mycroft would understand if Sherlock slipped. It would, however, mean an immediate return to rehab, Christmas or no Christmas. Their own troubles aside, he and Sherlock had a little girl to raise who counted on both her big brothers taking active roles in her life. Rose's safety was paramount and Mycroft could not allow Sherlock to potentially repeat the disastrous night nine month ago when he had accidentally overdosed while home alone with Rose.
It was with a considerably heavy heart that Mycroft entered the security code and unlocked the front door of the Holmes townhouse. His immediate goal was to ascertain that Rose had eaten supper and finished her homework; confronting Sherlock would come after. As he hung up his coat and toed off his shoes near the door, the sound the voices from the sitting room drew him in that direction. The baritone rumble of Sherlock's voice, and excited chattering from Rose, sounded perfectly normal and gave no indication of the situation Mycroft was about to walk in on as he stood in the entry of the sitting room.
Standing there in silent shock, his siblings blissfully unaware of his presence, Mycroft wondered just what sort of fresh hell he'd walked into. Felt, beads, empty paper towel rolls, tube socks, pillow stuffing, ribbons and fabric littered, no covered the sitting room. Worst of all there was glitter everywhere that it should not be, making Mycroft inwardly groan, knowing it would take a considerable length of time to hoover that out of the carpets. Not to mention the dribbles of glue he was sure would exist if he looked for them. Then, to top it all off, the coffee table and its immediate vicinity were liberally covered in birdseed.
Birdseed? Mycroft closed his eyes for several long seconds but today was assuredly not his day because when he opened them, the birdseed- both what had spilled and what remained in the bag- were still there.
What little patience he still possessed after a long and tiring day began to slip away. Mycroft opened his mouth to loudly demand an explanation but was quite suddenly stopped by what was surely the most delightful of sounds: Rose's laughter. She was genuinely laughing, her face alight with happiness and mischief; the good kind of mischief, which was Mycroft's preferred choice if mischief must be had. As annoyed as he was by the state of the sitting room, Mycroft couldn't bring himself to start shouting and ruin Rose's happiness. Not after the recent melancholy he'd seen in her!
Mycroft cleared his throat loudly and bit back a smile of amusement when two pairs of wide eyes turned in his direction. "Good evening, siblings mine. Might I enquire as to what is going on in our sitting room?"
"It's Christmas!" Rose exclaimed, a grin spreading over her face.
"Is it now?" Mycroft responded, raising an eyebrow. "Funnily enough I thought it was 13 December today. And you say it is Christmas?"
The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "Well, not it's not Christmas day today, of course, but we're making Christmas. A new Christmas. Wanna help?"
Making Christmas? All Mycroft saw was that they were making a huge mess! "Go on," he encouraged, hoping Rose would explain what this nonsense was about.
"All the ornaments are at the country house," Rose pointed out quietly. "We don't have any here, so Sherlock and I are making all our decorations for our new Christmas. New traditions and… things."
Mycroft felt his heart twinge painfully as some of the sparkle left Rose's eyes. "That sounds like a fine idea, but could we not have less messy traditions?" he asked, dismay evident in his voice. "That glitter is going to be miserable to get out of the carpet and I still have no idea what birdseed has to do with any of this."
"The birds want Christmas too!" Rose told him excitedly. "We're making them edible ornaments that we can put out in the yard. And they'll be safe for most animals that come across them I think. We probably won't get to see any deer here but you never know who or what might wander into our yard and it's very nice to share Christmas."
"The birds want Christmas too," Mycroft repeated very slowly. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement, knowing only that it flabbergasted him. It quickly became clear that Rose wasn't sure how he felt about it either.
"My?" Rose asked. A frown was beginning to settle on her face as she spoke. "Are you mad that we're making Christmas?"
"Mad? Heavens no!" Mycroft shook his head. "A bit flabbergasted I suppose, but not upset. I never gave any thought to sharing Christmas with birds."
The frown immediately faded, replaced by a pretty smile instead. "Oh! Well, me either, until Sherlock and I were looking up how to make ornaments on the internet and found the idea for that. Isn't that brilliant? Just wait until you see the banister!"
Inwardly Mycroft groaned loudly. Exactly how far throughout the house was this mess spread? Yet despite the groan, he couldn't help but smile just a bit as Rose took his hand and tried to pull him in the direction of the stairs. Allowing her to 'pull' him, Mycroft dutifully followed along, uncertain what to expect. Whatever he had expected though, was certainly not what he found.
The banister had been covered in cotton batting, Christmas lights liberally strewn along what he could only image served as 'snow'. On top of this snow were a number of stuffed penguins wearing green scarves.
"Isn't it neat? We got that idea online too and then we found the penguins at the store! Then I decided they should really be dressed to winter time, so we bought them little scarves too!" Rose was bouncing on her toes with excitement. "It's almost like they're sliding down the bannister or a snow bank."
"You, my dear, are a particularly creative creature," Mycroft decided, rewarding Rose with a smile. "Naturally you and Sherlock will be responsible for taking all this down after the New Year and of course cleaning up our sitting room, hmm?"
Rose nodded. "Yes! We'll take care of everything. Want to help us My? We have so much more Christmas to make."
"I suppose, in a just a bit," he agreed. "I need to speak to Sherlock first. Would you start some tea for all of us and locate some toffee biscuits for a late tea?" Mycroft did not miss the very brief look of alarm that crossed Sherlock's face but waited until Rose bounced out of the room (the energy she had!) before moving into the sitting room again to speak with him.
"I received a call from the bank today," Mycroft began. "You made some alarmingly big charges today and I was… concerned. However, I'm beginning to understand where that money went." He waved his hand at the plethora of craft supplies.
Sherlock nodded, trying hard to avoid his big brother's gaze. "Quite. That and another thing. Mycroft…" The younger man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Will you ever trust me again? I pee in a cup every bloody day, I know you search my room regularly even though you're always very careful to put things back where they should be. Louise's mother has standing orders to take Rose home with her if I appear… unstable or erratic during Rose's lessons. When will you trust me again? What more do I need to do?"
Now Sherlock looked at him and Mycroft could see the pain in his eyes, the yearning to regain the trust that had been broken. "Oh Sherlock," he said, letting out a sad sigh. "I do trust you. If I didn't, you would not be back in our home and you would not be allowed anywhere near Rose. You have done all that ask, continue to do all I ask, and have more than earned the right to be here, which is why you are here. But you are only human Sherlock." Mycroft reached out to squeeze his younger brother's shoulder. "You are only human and this is a difficult time for all of us. I was concerned for you and I wanted to make certain you were well but clearly my concerns were unfounded and you have no idea how happy this makes me. Though why you need to spend nearly four hundred pounds on crafts is beyond me."
Sherlock's shoulders sagged in relief as he gave Mycroft a curt nod. "And I'm forgiven now?" The words came out hesitantly as if he wasn't sure he really wanted to say them.
His brow now creased with concern, Mycroft nodded. "Of course, brother mine. Always. Forcing you into rehab was not a punishment, or least not meant to be one. I wanted you well and Rose needed you well. Have you truly felt you had not yet been forgiven this whole time? Months on end?" When Sherlock did not respond, Mycroft rolled his eyes, knowing it was true even if his brother would not admit it.
"Well you are and have been for quite some time. Though I may never forgive you for this mess in here," Mycroft commented, attempting to turn the conversation in a lighter direction. "Glitter? Bird seed? You and Rose better get every teeny tiny bit of that hoovered out of the carpeting before it begins trailing through the entire house!"
Completely ignoring her oldest brother's bit of a rant, Rose appeared at his side with an offering of tea fixed just the way he liked it. "Thank you," Mycroft responded, accepting the cup. Just as he was bringing it to his lips for a drink he noticed something iridescent in the warm liquid and pulled the cup away so he could peer into it.
There was, without a doubt, a few stray bits of glitter in. His. Tea. There was also a little girl standing beside him, waiting for him to take a drink and declare that it was made just right. God help me, Mycroft thought, bringing the cup towards his lips once more. "It is excellent, thank you Rose," he commented, giving her a smile along with the praise.
It was then that he noted something shiny on Rose as well, aside from the glitter that was apparently clinging to her outfit and invading his tea! "I don't remember seeing this before," Mycroft commented, indicating what appeared to be a gold necklace around her neck.
"It's new," Rose responded, pulling it out from under her shirt. "I didn't want to get glue on it so I was hiding it. Sherlock gave it to me today." She held out the little heart shaped locket for his inspection, beaming proudly.
This explains some of his expenditures, Mycroft reflected as he looked at the gold, heart shaped locket. On the front of it was a beautiful- almost calligraphy looking- engraved 'R' and turning it over was another exquisite engraving, this time of a rose. It was elegant yet understated, grown-up but not overly so, yet Mycroft couldn't imagine what had prompted such an expensive gift. "Is there an academic achievement I'm unaware of? A competition you've won recently that I have not been told about?" he inquired as he let go of the locket.
Shaking her head Rose carefully opened the clasp of the locket to reveal a small photograph of Maud inside. "Sherlock said I can keep Mummy close to my heart this way. So she's always with me," she explained in a soft, reverent tone.
Mycroft looked over at Sherlock with an expression of surprise on his face. Somehow Sherlock was always so keenly connected with Rose on an emotional level that Mycroft couldn't quite comprehend and this was a perfect example of it. He generally chalked it up to the fact that they were closer in age and he was much more of an authority figure than Sherlock and always had been. It was a lovely gift; subtle, yet thoughtful and emotionally charged.
"Do you like it? Is it okay? Did I make you sad?" Rose asked, tearing Mycroft's thoughts away from Sherlock's intuitiveness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad." Hastily the locket was tucked back under her shirt and almost as quickly removed by Mycroft.
"You did not make me sad and it is more than alright," Mycroft assured her in a gentle tone. "I was just surprised, but pleasantly so. I don't know why we didn't think of something like this earlier," he admitted. "It is a very kind and thoughtful gift that will help you remember Mother in a happy way, I believe."
The clouds that had gathered on Rose's face quickly disappeared at his words and Mycroft was the recipient of a very enthusiastic hug. Setting his tea down on the nearest end table, Mycroft easily lifted Rose into his arms and held her tightly. "I love you poppet, and I only want you to be happy," he said softly. "Remember what I said before? About not trying to shield Sherlock and me from sadness?" Mycroft smiled when he felt her head nodding against his shoulder. "That is not your job and you must not do it. Your job is to be Rose and nothing more."
"I'll be Rose and nothing more," she murmured, smiling as Mycroft put her down. "Can we keep making Christmas now? Will you help us? Do you want to make snowmen out of socks? Or dip pinecones in paint and glitter?"
"Glittery pinecones?" Mycroft asked, an eyebrow quirking. "I was unaware that such a thing even existed, let alone was part of Christmas celebrations." He shook his head as Rose bounded off towards the sitting and made to follow behind her, albeit more sedately, when he caught sight of the clump of glitter now stuck to his waistcoat.
"Rosenwyn Aramantha Holmes!" Mycroft called out. "Come here right now young lady!" He bit the inside of his cheek when Rose's head whipped around and she gave him a wide-eyed look. "Did you hear me? I said come here."
Biting her lip a bit Rose drug her feet as she approached her big brother, who now had his hands on his hips and a particularly stern look on his face. Only when she came closer did Rose spot the clump of glitter, her mouth forming a little 'o' in surprise.
"Look at what you did to my waistcoat, you destructive little monster," Mycroft scolded. "You are in trouble. Come right here." He pointed at a spot right in front of him, giving Rose a very stern look.
"Mycroft!" Sherlock called out. "Aren't playing up your role as mean brother a bit much?"
"But My," Rose whinged, moving to stand where he indicated. "I didn't-" Whatever plea she had been about to make was promptly cut off as Mycroft began tickling her. A gasp of surprise was followed by peals of laughter as Rose wriggled and attempted to dance away from Mycroft's tickles. "Nooooo! My! Nooooo!"
"Yes, yes, yes," Mycroft countered. "Little girls who get glitter all over my waistcoat get soundly tickled. That is very naughty behavior." He smiled as she laughed and made half-hearted attempts to get away. His laughter soon joined hers when one escape attempt resulted in Rose tripping over her own feet and falling onto the floor. "Do you surrender?" Mycroft demanded. He tickled her feet now, making her squeal and kick enthusiastically at him.
"Yesssssss!" Rose gasped. "I surrender, I surrender!" She sagged against the floor in relief when Mycroft stopped his tickle assault and caught her breath once more. "That was devious My. I thought you were going to spank me," she announced with a pout.
"Why? Have you done something that you should be spanked for?" Mycroft asked. He wasn't at all surprised when she hurriedly shook her head no. "Are you sure? Quite sure? Should I spank you preemptively in anticipation of your next mischief fueled misadventure?"
Rose shook her head no, adding verbal pleas when Mycroft rolled her over onto her stomach and lightly swatted her bottom several times. "Yes, that ought to do it," Mycroft declared as he lifted Rose up onto her feet again. "Do you feel sufficiently chastised? Might you perhaps think twice before misbehaving in the future?"
"Hmm. Nope!" Rose laughed as she hurried into the sitting room once more. "Mycroft, you're the meanest brother ever!"
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Well your meanest brother ever is going to change his clothes and then we'll see about making Christmas."
20 December
"But why?" Rose whined. She threw Mycroft a significant pout as she put on her school shoes. "Sherlock said I didn't have to go to school on my birthday."
Mycroft shot the middle Holmes child another deathly look. "Sherlock is an idiot and it doesn't matter what he says if I say differently. It's your last day before the holiday break begins and none of your birthday surprises are until this evening anyway. But there won't be any surprises at all if a certain girl who is now eleven years of age doesn't get her shoes and coat on."
Rose gasped and looked up at him, attempting to assess the truthfulness of that statement.
"You know I'd do it in a heartbeat," Mycroft added. "I would prefer not to be forced to do that though because I am very much looking forward to your surprises and starting a new birthday tradition. Wouldn't it be better to go to school and have a lovely time this evening than to throw a strop now and not be able to celebrate?"
"Yes," Rose admitted with a sigh. "But staying home all day in my pajamas still sounds like more fun than silly old school."
"Undoubtedly it would be, but that is not your option today," Mycroft said firmly. He rewarded Rose with a smile when she dutifully put on her coat. "Good girl," he praised, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "Come along, we've just enough time to stop for cinnamon rolls at that place you like and eat them in the car."
"And espresso?" Rose asked, making a beeline for the waiting vehicle.
Exiting the house at a more sedate place, the eldest Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "Why not? The caffeine will have worn off by the time you come home to plague me with your presence," Mycroft agreed with a sigh. "You are absolutely spoilt and I claim no responsibility for that."
Taking his teasing words as they were meant, Rose giggled and slid into the car.
Later that afternoon Rose burst through the front door of the Holmes townhouse, skidding to a stop just as Mycroft called out "Don't run like a hooligan in the house!" from inside his study. Depositing her shoes, coat and school bag near the door, Rose ignored his directive and ran into his study without so much as knocking, earning an eye roll from her beleaguered eldest brother.
"I'm home, I'm home!" Rose announced, bouncing on her toes. "May have I my present now please? Please, please, please Mycroft? I've been waiting ages and ages and ages and it's utterly agonizing! In fact, if I am not allowed to have my present in the next…" Rose paused to look at the clock. "In the next six minutes I shall go into a completely melancholic state from which there shall be no return."
"Your present is upstairs in your room," Mycroft replied. "Bring it down here and open it, hm?" He shook his head as Rose ran out of his study and thundered up the stairs. "For such a small person she certainly makes a terrific amount of noise."
A brief moment later, Rose could be heard running down the stairs once more and in short order appeared in Mycroft's study. She immediately plopped onto the floor and began tearing away the wrapping paper, only to reveal a large white box. "Oh goodness! Just what I always wanted- a box!" Rose quipped. She flashed Sherlock a grin when he snorted but almost immediately returned her attention to her gift.
Once the lid was removed Rose carefully began to take the items from the box. Sitting right on top were three tickets for a performance at the Royal Opera House. "Don Quixote, showing 20th December," she read. "That's today! We're going to see a show!"
"We are indeed, to see the final Don Quixote performance for the season," Mycroft confirmed. He could only smile at her enthusiasm, glad that he and Sherlock had gone this route after all and not selected any of the other options.
"Ooooh," Rose murmured, pulling out a dress from the box. It was a beautiful sage green satin overlaid with white lace and tied at the waist with a burgundy sash. "It's so pretty."
Sherlock beamed at her obvious approval of his choice. He had searched long and hard for a dress that would be grown-up, yet not too grown-up, and most importantly be flattering for her small stature. It was a tall order to fill but he had done it! "A grown-up girl needs a grown-up dress for an outing to the opera," he told her. "Mycroft and I are taking you out on the town."
Mycroft nodded. "We'll explore Covent Garden a bit, perhaps help ourselves to some macarons from Ladureé or sweeties from Hope and Greenwood. Not too much though, because we're going to the Crush Room for dinner before the show. Naturally we'll stop in the gift shop where you may pick out a few additional things for yourself…"
His voice trailed off as Rose removed a new, fluffy fleece coat that sported a jaunty flower, and a pair of black sparkly shoes from the box. Sherlock was rewarded with a censorious look, silently accusing him of spoiling the baby. Maddeningly, Sherlock's only response was a bit of a shrug. Rolling his eyes, Mycroft turned his attention back to Rose.
"We'll be leaving in an hour, so you will want to change soon," he cautioned. "In fact you'd best try everything on now and make certain it fits." Mycroft let out an oof as he suddenly found himself pounced on by an enthusiastic Rose. Wrapping his arms around her, he held on tight and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "I take it you approve of our proposed new tradition for your birthday? You're getting to be quite grown up now," he murmured. "A whole eleven years old."
"I feel old rather suddenly," Sherlock decided, giving Rose a playful frown. "That's very rude of you to grow up and make me feel old." He playfully wagged his finger at her, unable to keep from smiling when Rose began to giggle.
"Oh do shut up, brother mine," Mycroft scolded. "You'll only be twenty-two next month whereas I will be-"
"Really super old," Rose interjected, flashing him a cheeky grin. She yelped when Mycroft swatted her bottom lightly, more out of surprise than actual pain.
"Rude child," Mycroft grumbled, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Thirty-three is not 'really super old' Rosenwyn."
"But thirty-four is right?" she squealed and ran over to Sherlock when it looked as though Mycroft might swat her again.
Mycroft rolled his eyes at her dramatic show of hiding behind Sherlock, as if he were about to give chase. "Away with you, child. Go change so we can be on our way to Ladureé soon." A fond look graced his face as he watched Rose scoop up her new dress and shoes and run out of his office and up the stairs.
"The baby isn't much of a baby anymore," Sherlock murmured, his tone reflecting the wonder of it all. Mother's Baby was becoming a young lady; no their baby, he mentally corrected himself.
"She's only eleven, it's not as though she's eighteen or twenty. Besides, she'll always be the baby," Mycroft pointed out, a bit of a wistful smile on his face. "No matter how old she gets, that, brother mine, will never change."
"You look like a child raised in the forest with no manners at all," Mycroft chuckled. He dipped a handkerchief in a bottle of water in the back of the vehicle and proceeded to wipe away the smudges of a well-enjoyed macaron from Rose's face.
"You could use some attention, too," Rose teased, giving him a cheeky smile. She had greatly enjoyed her pre-dinner activities, which included a brief stop at Hope and Greenwood to procure some small servings of their favorite sweeties (Rosey Apples for Rose, Treacle Dibs for Sherlock and Gray's Teacakes for Mycroft) before visiting Ladureé. After much deliberation, one and only one macaron was allowed to be consumed before dinner, though a box of their favorites had been added to the small goodie stash in their vehicle.
"It's my new favorite," Rose decided. "Chocolate with lime, superb! May I try one of yours tomorrow Sherlock? And yours, too My? I'll share mine." Her brothers' choices of spice and soft fruits and blackcurrant violet had looked very appealing too.
"I believe some sort of sharing agreement might be made. But not tonight, as we'll have some dessert with our dinner as well," Sherlock pointed out. "Mycroft will be horribly grumpy if you get an upset stomach."
Mycroft nodded his agreement with that statement. "Alright, I think our faces are all clean now and we are ready for the Crush Room." He stepped out of the vehicle and waited for his siblings to follow, offering his Rose to arm rather than reach for her hand. The grin at the gesture of acknowledging how grown up she was now made him give a smile in return.
"Well I can't go in without a lady on my arm. Let's share the baby," Sherlock decided, offering his arm as well.
Giggling, Rose looped her arms through both of theirs. "Not a baby! I'm eleven!"
"You're always the baby. You can't change the order in which you were born Rosie," Sherlock countered as the entered the Royal Opera House. "But that means you'll also always be very, very special to us, because we've been able to watch you grow since the very day you were born."
"My, do you remember when I was very tiny and I used to stand on your feet and we would dance in the sitting room?" Rose asked.
Mycroft nodded and responded with, "Hm, yes, that was just last week, was it not?"
"My!" Rose laughed. "That's just mean! I meant when I was very, very little in terms of years, not size. Hardly my fault you and Sherlock are gangly giants. Sherlock, do you remember when-" Whatever special memory Rose had been about to discuss died on her tongue as they were led to the Crush Room. It was simply the most beautiful room she had ever seen in her life! Soft, velvety red chairs, gilt molding decorating various areas of the walls and large, shining chandeliers created what felt to Rose like the epitome of sophistication and elegance.
As she silently marveled at the room, Sherlock and Mycroft shared a smile. It had been so important to them to make this a very special birthday that would chase away the shadows of Mother's absence and it appeared they had set just the right tone. For once, Mycroft was not even scolding about spoiling the baby as they were spoiling her together for an excellent reason.
Dinner passed pleasantly with Rose impressing both brothers with her good manners, clearly doing her best to act very grown-up and make them proud of her. "That was very delicious," Rose told the waiter when he came with the check. "Thank you for being an excellent server and please give the cook our compliments, sir."
Once again her brothers shared a brief smile before Mycroft handed over his bank card without even looking at the total. Rose, however, peeked at the receipt and gasped at the total. "Bills are not your purview Rose," Mycroft commented. "They are mine and this has been money well spent. We're starting a new tradition tonight and Sherlock and I wished to make this very, very special for you. Besides, we are celebrating you, poppet, and you are worth a great many fortunes."
Her face flushed with pleasure as Rose hopped up to reward him with a hug. She sighed happily as Mycroft held her tightly, which was admittedly unusual in so public a venue. "I love you My. I'm glad I have you," she whispered.
"I'm glad I have you," Mycroft whispered in return. "Every single day. Now go give Sherlock a cuddle before he feels left out." Giving her a wink he gently nudged her in Sherlock's direction, not the least bit surprised when the middle Holmes held the littlest one tightly, kissing both her cheeks.
"If we're done with all the silly sentiment now," he said after a moment or so. "We have one final stop to make before we take our seats. There is a very important element of your birthday present in the gift shop."
"There's more?!" Rose gasped. "But-"
"But nothing," Sherlock interrupted. "We want to thoroughly spoil you today and we will have our way, miss," he said in a mock stern tone.
"Sherlock, why don't you take her to our seats whilst I collect her gift?" Mycroft suggested. "Go on and I'll be along shortly. If the employees give you any trouble, just wait for me and I'll sort it out, but they should have been alerted to our impending visit."
Sherlock nodded and held out his arm for Rose. "Shall we, birthday girl?"
Looping her arm through his once more, Rose nodded. "We shall!" The two siblings departed the Crush Room and headed for the private box. Only it was not just any private box, but the one reserved for the Queen herself!
"Holmes family, we have tickets for this box with special permission of Her Majesty," Sherlock told a staff member, offering the man their tickets.
"Most irregular," the man commented before tutting. "I'll have to call down to the box office and verify. I'm sure you understand." He hastily contacted the box office via walkie talkie and was informed that Mycroft Holmes and family had special permission to use the box for this performance, which came directly from Her Majesty's secretary.
"Sorry about that. Have to be sure," the man explained as he moved to allow them entrance. He cringed a bit as Rose dashed into the box and went straight to the front of it, peering at the stage.
"You can see everything from here," Rose whispered reverently. "Everyone in the seats and the whole stage. We won't miss even a bit of it and I'll be able to see everything!" She had been a bit worried that her view would be obstructed by much taller patrons, which was valid concern considering her size. "Mycroft must have spent thousands of pounds to let us sit here."
"Not even one, in fact," Mycroft commented as he joined them in the box. "When I told the Queen Sherlock and I were taking you here to see Don Quixote she insisted we make use of her box and consider it a birthday gift for you."
Rose's mouth dropped open in shock. She knew the Queen, not very well of course, but she had met her a few times, but Rose never imagined that the Queen thought of her very much! Then again, she knew Mycroft was very great friends with the Queen, so perhaps that had a lot to do with it as well. "Wow," Rose finally said. "That's amazing! If I make her a thank you card, will you make sure she gets it My? Because this is very, very special and I would like to say thank you."
Mycroft smiled and nodded, feeling very proud of her thoughtfulness. Though in actuality, it wasn't wholly unexpected as Rose was typically quite thoughtful. "I would be happy to deliver a card for you. That is a very thoughtful idea, Rose. I'm sure she would appreciate it."
"Come here," Mycroft requested, waving Rose over to him. "We have just enough time for you to open your gift before Don Quixote begins." He waited until she sat down to hand it to her and then took the seat on her left while Sherlock sat on her right.
The wrapping paper was torn away haphazardly, revealing a beautiful gift box embossed with the Royal Opera House's insignia on top. Rather than open it quickly, Rose was careful as she lifted the lid, not wanting to damage what might be inside. Finally it was removed and handed to Sherlock as Rose pulled out each item in turn.
"That's for your programmes," Sherlock explained when the first item emerged. "You can keep each one in this box and fill it up every year. If you have a nice time, Mycroft and I want to make this our new tradition."
"Though we might not be quite so extravagant in the future," Mycroft warned. "But Ladureé and the Opera House's latest offering will be a must. I take it that would be fine with you?"
"More than fine!" Rose assured him. "This has been the best time, and Don Quixote hasn't even started yet." She flashed Mycroft a smile before removing a DVD called The History of Dance on Screen, letting out a little squeal as she saw it. "I'm going to watch this as soon as we get home," Rose decided.
Reaching into the box she retrieved her final gift, an official Royal Opera House bear, dressed in dinner jacket with a white bow tie. "My birthday bear!" The bear was quickly removed from the gift bag it was inside of and eagerly inspected by the birthday girl. "I wasn't sure if I was going to get a birthday bear this year, because we did so many other things."
"Forget your birthday bear? Never!" Mycroft vowed. "I would never do such a thing. That is a very important tradition, isn't it?" He wasn't the least bit surprised when Rose helped herself to his lap and hugged him tightly, bear in hand. "Happy birthday poppet," he whispered.
After a moment he gently nudged her from his lap. "Best take your seat now, things are about to begin and you don't want to miss anything." He smiled and shook his head as Rose scooted her chair closer to the front of the box.
"I don't want to miss anything," Rose said as she looked over her shoulder. Her attention was quickly drawn by the stage as the lights began to dim and the curtain started to rise.
Later that night, Mycroft knocked lightly on Rose's bedroom door, opening it when she called out for him to do so. "Ready for bed? Did you say goodnight to Sherlock already?" he asked.
Rose nodded, giving him a sleepy smile, fighting to keep her eyes open. "Yes and yes. Don Quixote, is too," she said, indicating her new teddy bear with a giggle. "Do you like his name? It seems like the right name for him."
"That's a very fine name for a bear," Mycroft responded as the tucked the covers in around her. "I'm very glad you enjoyed the evening Rose. Sherlock and I hoped that you would. Perhaps you'd like to pick what we see next year?"
"Mmhm," Rose agreed in a tired tone. "Thanks for everything My. It was my favorite birthday ever."
That was quite the accomplishment, Mycroft thought to himself, particularly since he had anticipated this being a difficult day for her. "Good, I'm glad. But right now, it's time for you to sleep." Leaning down, Mycroft pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight poppet."
"Night My," Rose murmured as she burrowed under the covers a bit more.
Mycroft waited until she had settled down and then tucked the blankets around her one more time before leaving the room. After closing her door, he leaned against it and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. They had done it. They made it through the day, all three of them, with smiles and laughter even though Mother was missing. It was quite the accomplishment and gave him hope that they just might survive Christmas as well.
25 December- Nearly Midnight
The credits of A Little Princess began rolling, signaling the end of their holiday movie marathon. It was five minutes before midnight which would officially change the date to 26 December. Mycroft swirled the brandy in his snifter and took a drink before looking over at his siblings. Sherlock and Rose were snuggled together under a blanket, the collar of Rose's new Christmas pajamas peeking out from under it. He had given them to her the night before and allowed her to wear them all day, much to Rose's delight.
Right about now would be the time that he and Maud shooed the younger Holmes children off to bed, or at least attempted to make Sherlock go sleep for once. Instead, it was just he awake, looking around the room at a very different Christmas. The blue and teal glitter pinecones had shed their sparkles all around the tree, while the homemade ornaments gave it a homey feeling very unlike the pretty and delicate ornaments of Christmases past.
It had been a good Christmas; different, but good. Unless one counted the fact that the turkey had somehow caught on fire and the fire extinguisher effectively ruining whatever food was anywhere near the stove. At that point, the day was a disaster and Mycroft had felt an overwhelming sense of failure. Sherlock, however, had saved the day by locating the only catering company open on Christmas Day and paying them an exorbitant amount of money to cater a Christmas dinner.
They'd need to practice more before next year, Mycroft thought, and avoid this year's food disasters. Either that or beg their cook, Terre', to stay with them for Christmas! The trifle pudding, at least, at turned out perfectly and not been safe from contamination and it had served as their lunch until the catered food had arrived for a somewhat belated Christmas dinner.
Success had been achieved on one level though. Despite Maud's noticeable absence, there had been laughter (some of which had been directed at his apparent lack of cooking skills), presents, holiday films, board games and ultimately joy. All that Mycroft had wanted for Christmas was for the three of them to survive it together and enjoy it at least in part as they adjusted to new roles and traditions. On that level, there had been great success and seeing Rose laugh, smile, and enjoy every minute of her Christmas had made it easier for him to continue the merriment rather focus on Mother's absence. It was encouraging that they'd made it through with a few bumps in the road and Mycroft knew that with time what were new traditions would become old and life would continue on with all the joy and laughter Maud would wish for.
Drinking the last of his brandy, Mycroft set the snifter on the end table before getting up to tuck the blanket tightly around his siblings. After kissing Rose's cheek and patting Sherlock's shoulder, he turned out the lights and headed upstairs for some well-earned sleep.
NOTE: I can't believe it's been SO long since I wrote the first part of this and that it's taken me the better part of three weeks to finish this final part! I'm so sorry for the long wait and I really appreciate those of you who continue to read despite the huge lag time between chapters recently!
Note 2: Someone suggested a while back I set up a tumblr account about me or the stories and for the life of me I can't figure it out, or think of anything to say even if I could! So instead, I've set up a pinterest account with boards that correspond to each of the Rose stories featuring images of her outfits, of little Rose herself, and more! Just go to pinterest and add a slash mark followed by cb1603 to see the boards. The Petal board is completely up to date with the most recent chapter, the others I will work on when I have time, though the images for this chapter are available now on the Wildflower board. Enjoy!