Chapter 2: Failure to Communicate
Following the afternoon's excitement, the rest of the day passed rather peacefully. Sherlock and Rose caught up with one another, John ordered takeaway, and each pursued their own activity that evening. Rose curled up with a book in John's arm chair, Sherlock turned his attention to yet another experiment in the kitchen and John worked on a blog entry. The flat was quiet, yet buzzed, in a way, with the sounds of domesticity. John was a bit surprised to realize that Sherlock looked much more relaxed than he had in a long time.
The quiet was broken by a soft thud that startled both men, who discovered that Rose was fast asleep and the book she'd been reading had fallen out of her hands onto the floor.
"Keep an eye on her, will you?" Sherlock asked.
John nodded, feeling quite capable of watching the sleeping young woman. "Are you going out?"
"I'm going to rummage through her bag. I'd like to make certain she doesn't run off again," Sherlock explained. Without waiting for John's reply, Sherlock entered his bedroom and located the bag Rose had arrived with. Opening the large duffle bag, he turned it upside down and dumped its contents on the bed.
Clothing was tossed off to the side as unimportant; the pink ipod drew a chuckle from the detective. He couldn't help but think that if Mycroft had put some sort of tracking device in her ipod, this whole thing would have been done a long time back. Still, that was unimportant and the music player joined the pile of clothing. The last items from the bag were two books, novels in fact, and Sherlock was about to toss them aside when he realized there was something inside one of the books.
"Fake book, nicely done," he murmured, despite there being no one to hear him. Opening the book, he discovered it had been partly hollowed out and nestled inside were not one but three British passports. Shaking his head, Sherlock put all the other items back inside her bag and returned to the sitting room, tossing the passports at John without a word.
Sherlock crossed the room and rubbed his sleeping sister's shoulder. "Rose, time for bed," he murmured. "Can you get up and walk?" When he received no response, other than the continued breathing pattern of someone fast asleep, Sherlock rolled his eyes and carefully picked her up to carry her into his bedroom. He lovingly tucked her into his bed and then stood there in the dark, watching her. A part of him almost couldn't believe she was there, returned from her escapades unhurt and, hopefully, a bit more mature then when she'd left. Another part of him wondered if she'd be there still when he woke up the next morning. Unaware of the time passing, Sherlock sat beside her on the bed and continued to watch her sleep.
When Sherlock didn't return after ten minutes, John got up from the couch to make sure everything was alright. Just as he poked his head inside Sherlock's bedroom, he saw the detective reach out and stroke Rose's curly hair, brushing it out of her face before leaning over to kiss her forehead. Turning away, John returned to the sitting room and picked up the passports Sherlock had tossed him.
Sherlock came out of the bedroom a moment later, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Can you even believe it?" he asked, indicating the passports. "There's got to be a fantastic story about how she managed to get those other two without Mycroft being alerted. I'm sure he put some sort of alert out to all the embassies to keep watch for her. Though without knowing what name, or names, to search for, that was doomed to failure."
Taking the passports back from John, he opened the first one and, discovering it was the legitimate one, tossed it back on the couch. The second one drew a chuckle from the detective when he spotted the name: Nora Charles. "I told Mycroft she'd pick names from her favorite films, it was merely a process of narrowing down which were her very favorites," he murmured, showing John.
John peered at the passport. "I think this faked, it doesn't look quite right," he commented. "And what movie is Nora Charles from?"
"Of course it's fake John. A very, very good fake, but the text is just slightly blurred," Sherlock pointed out. "And the name is from an old American film, The Thin Man." Opening the second one produced another smile. "And Tracy Samantha Lord, from The Philadelphia Story. She's clever; Mycroft never took my suggestions for searching character names seriously. I'm sure she counted on that, and clearly, I was right.
"Rose studied cinema at university," he enlightened John. "And literature. Mycroft refused to pay for her to major in something that amounted to, in his opinion, little more than watching films, but agreed to let her major in it so long as she studied something else as well, so literature it was. Graduated with honors."
John frowned. "She's not yet twenty and she's got an undergraduate degree? How is that possible?"
"Rose skipped some years of grade school and began attending university at fourteen, graduated at seventeen," Sherlock replied. There was no mistaking the note of pride in his voice as he spoke; his little sister, a university graduate at seventeen. "She'd just finished her first semester of law school when she disappeared. I told Mycroft forcing her to go would be a mistake."
John couldn't help but be impressed at what Rose had already achieved so early in her life. He'd been at university for ages becoming a doctor. "What do you intend to do with the passports?" John wondered. "Not give them back to her, surely."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That should be abundantly obvious John. If I give them back to her, she can leave again. Rose won't get far without a passport and I doubt she has enough money to purchase anymore fakes; those aren't cheap. I'll hide them away. That way Mycroft and I stand a chance of keeping her in the country."
John nodded. "Well, good luck with that then. I'm going to head to bed, good night."
"Good night John," Sherlock responded. Before going to sleep himself, he took a picture of the passports with his phone and sent it in a text to Mycroft: 'Will put them in a safe place. SH.'
The following morning, Rose awoke just past seven. When she opened her eyes, she was filled with panic for a few moments, not knowing where she was. Then it all came back and, knowing she was in Sherlock's room, left out a sigh of relief.
Uncertain of who was up and who wasn't Rose took Sherlock's dressing robe off the hook on the back of the door and put it on over her pajamas and then helped herself to his slippers as well. They were quite big on her little feet, so she abandoned that plan and dug for her own in her bag, putting them on before venturing out of the bedroom.
The flat was eerily quiet, indicating both men were still asleep. Sherlock, sprawled on the couch with a blanket and pillow clearly was, and since no sound was coming from the upstairs bedroom, John had to be sleeping as well. Seeing no need to wake them just yet, Rose headed into the kitchen, pushed aside Sherlock's microscope and various unidentified items from the island, and started on breakfast. Soon bacon was sizzling, eggs were scrambling, and hash browns were browning.
"Sherlock," Rose called from the kitchen. "Sherlock, wake up, there's food."
The man on the couch didn't stir and Rose wasn't in a position where she could leave the food long enough to go rouse him from sleep. With a shrug, she took off one of her slippers and threw it at him, giggling with satisfaction when it smacked his face and Sherlock startled awake.
"Good morning!" Rose called out in a sing-song voice. "Food is just about ready!"
Sherlock scowled at her from the couch and picked up her slipper. "You threw your slipper at me!" he exclaimed. "What was that for?"
"You wouldn't wake up," she answered easily.
"I'll wake you up in a minute," he grumbled. Holding the slipper in his hand, Sherlock entered the kitchen and gave her a good smack across the bottom with it.
Rose yelped in response. "Ow! That hurt!"
"See? It's not nice to throw slippers at people, they might smack you with them in return," he commented glibly, holding the offending slipper out for her to take.
Rose accepted it and placed it back on her foot. "Duly noted," she muttered. "Spoil sport."
"Why are you wearing my dressing robe, by the way? What if I needed it?" Sherlock teased.
"Because I'm in my pajamas underneath and I didn't want to embarrass John if he was awake," Rose explained patiently. "And you should go wake him up, breakfast is ready to be served. After we're done, I'm going to have a chat with Mrs. Hudson."
A few hours later, John's mobile went off, alerting him to a text. 'Bring her now. MH.' "Is your sister still with Mrs. Hudson? Mycroft wants to see her now. Say, why aren't you taking her? You don't look particularly busy," John said with a chuckle.
"Because I know precisely how this will turn out. Mycroft and I will end up fighting about how to parent her and when you fight in front of a child, that undermines your authority with said child," Sherlock answered without looked up from his microscope. "He and I rarely agree on anything, other than the fact that we like to know where Rose is and that she is safe."
John nodded, having assumed as much. "See you in a while then." He headed downstairs to collect Rose from Mrs. Hudson. "Ready?" he asked as they climbed into a cab.
"About as ready as I'll ever be," Rose replied, as she slunk down in the seat. She pulled her newsboy cap down over her eyes.
"Maybe Mycroft will surprise you," John told her, sounding quite optimistic.
Rose pushed her cap back up to look at John. "I hope you're right. I really hope I proved that I can take care of myself. I don't need to be watched over and cosseted and protected. I'm ready to begin my life and do what I love."
"Which is?"
"Dance. I'm a dancer and I'd like to go professional. Tried law school and it just wasn't me. Boring, boring, boring, no life to it at all. Dancing is so amazing and freeing and I've been told I have a good potential of going professional, which is why I kept dancing at little no name studios wherever I went while I was off adventuring," Rose explained.
A few minutes later they arrived at Mycroft's office building and were escorted to his office by a security official. "Ah, you're still in the country," Mycroft quipped when they entered. "John, if you would be so good as to wait outside while I conference with my sister privately."
"Right," John agreed. He gave Rose an encouraging smile before exiting and closing the door behind him. Taking advantage of some bench seating in the hallway, John sat down to wait for them to finish. For a while, he was sure it was going well, but eventually he heard raised voices, and someone's hand slam on a desk top…
"So, I talked to Mrs. Hudson and 221C is available for rent and she said she'd happily rent it to me. I'd like to live close to both you and Sherlock, but have some independence," Rose explained. "I thought that might be a good solution, since I don't want to move back home. Nothing personal, but I've been on my own for a while now and it would be weird to live at home and have all those rules again."
Mycroft sighed as he considered the issue. There were certainly worse places for her to live, and at least Sherlock would be nearby to keep an eye on her. In fact, he'd pay Sherlock and John a hefty sum to do just that! "Alright, I'll agree to you taking the apartment Mrs. Hudson has to offer," he decided.
Rose breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in her chair. She accepted the cup of tea Mycroft offered her and sipped it for a few moments before setting it down and moving on to the next part of her plan. "I've already had a job offer, at the dance studio I used to attend," she explained. "They're very eager to have me back teaching the little ones their ballet again, and are more than willing to work around any professional engagements. They'll even help me find an agent, who will help me get into the professional world. I'm really very excited about it." For as long as she could remember, she'd loved to dance more than anything else in life.
"Rosenwyn, how many times do we have to go over this?" Mycroft asked, immediately sounding frustrated. "If you want to work there, fine, I don't care. But dancing is a hobby, it is not a career. What will you do if you become injured? Or you don't cut it professionally? What will you have to fall back on?" He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the oncoming headache.
"Thank you for your faith in me," Rose grumbled. "Look, I have my undergraduate degree. If something happens I can get a teaching license and work in a school, or I could go back to school and pursue a graduate degree. I think there are a lot of options for me if this doesn't work out. Teaching dance is good money and an agent would help my career so much. I wouldn't even have to pay for the agent!"
Mycroft shook his head. "Absolutely out of the question. Dancing is not a career. You need to go back to law school or pursue medicine, or do something worthwhile. I never intended for all these dance lessons you took as a child to become an obsession for you. You must find something else, particularly if you expect me to support your endeavors."
"WHY?!" Rose exclaimed, all her frustration coming out in her sharp tone. She couldn't believe they were arguing about this yet again! "Mycroft, look. I'm not really asking for permission here, I'm telling. I'm telling you that I tried to do what you wanted and was completely miserable. Now it's time for me to do what I want and frankly, I don't care whether or not you approve of it."
Mycroft stared her down from across his desk, a dark, angry look on his face. "Well that's a fine way to speak to me!" He slammed his hand on the desk for emphasis. "I didn't raise you to talk to me in that fashion. You're a child and whether or not you want my permission, you'd best have it miss, or life will be very difficult for you."
"I didn't ask you to do that though!" Rose told him. "I didn't ask you to raise me and…"
"And I most certainly didn't ask for you to be born and become my responsibility, did I?!" Mycroft shouted at her. The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them. Rose visibly deflated before his eyes, going quite still, looking at the floor rather than at him. His words had hurt her, deeply.
"Rose, I'm…" Before Mycroft could get out an apology, Rose got up from her chair, grabbed the tea pot on his desk and threw it at his head. In an effort to get out of the way, Mycroft fell out of his chair with an undignified sort of squeak and the tea pot hit the wall behind him, showering his head with tea and broken china pieces.
Without another word, Rose turned and left the office, slamming the door behind her, and walked straight into John.
"What was that crash, what happened?" John demanded with a frown. "Is Mycroft injured?"
"If he is, I don't care," Rose ground out. "Let me alone." She pushed him away from her, intent on leaving the building as quickly as possible.
John debated internally for a few seconds on what to do: see to Mycroft, or go after Rose. Ultimately he decided to go after Rose, and chased her down the hallway and out of the building, spotting her on the sidewalk as she waved frantically for a cab. When she saw him coming towards her, Rose turned to run and was unpleasantly surprised to find that John was not only a good runner, but did in fact catch up with her rather easily, grabbing hold of her arm.
"Rose, you can't just go off again. Sherlock will murder us both if you do. What happened? Why are you so upset?" John asked. He was truly concerned about her and fearful that she'd disappear all over again. The flush of her cheeks and the tears shining in her eyes, which she tried desperately to keep from letting fall, alerted him to the fact that she was very, very upset indeed.
"Let. Go. Of. Me." Rose ground out, trying to pull her arm away. "I mean it John, let go!"
"Not a chance," John said sternly. "Stop trying to get away from me! We'll get a cab and go… somewhere. Anywhere you'd like, but I can't let you run."
Rather than respond verbally, Rose attempted to push him away from her, shoving with all her might. She nearly succeeded in toppling John over because she'd taken him by surprise. "Hey now," John said sternly, grabbing hold of her other arm. "Look at me, young lady. I just want to get you somewhere safely, I'm not trying to hurt you and there is no reason to start shoving me around. I'm on your side!" At least he thought he was, but it was hard to know for sure without understanding what happened in Mycroft's office.
She responded by kicking him in the shin and trying to pull away once more. "THAT," John shouted. "IS ENOUGH!" Pulling her closer to him, he landed a mighty smack to her bottom, not stopping to think about whether or not he had a right to do so. "I am trying to be your friend here and do not deserve to be pushed, kicked, or anything else you feel like doing amid your tantrum! Are we clear?"
"How dare you?!" Rose shouted back, slapping him hard across the face. Her eyes suddenly went wide, suddenly realizing how terribly out of line that was. "John, I…"
Before she could get another word out, John began dragging her towards a side street, away from the small crowd that had begun to gather around them. As soon as he had achieved a bit more privacy, he yanked on her arm, tucked her under his, and smacked her bottom hard several times.
"You can't! Don't! Owwww!" Rose yelped. She struggled to get away, but John had her locked tightly against his side and she had no choice but to stay right where she was. She fought the urge to cry out and draw attention to what was happening. The tears began to fall in fast succession and she stopped squirming, not bothering to fight him anymore.
The instant she settled down, John stopped smacking her bum and let her up, though he kept a hand on each shoulder. "Are you done?" he asked sternly. "Done with your tantrum now?" His heart twisted painfully when he saw the tears streaking down her cheeks, but had a feeling the brief smacking alone wasn't the only cause for them. Still, he would remain stern until she got herself under control.
Rose nodded, indicating her anger had abated. She opened her mouth to verbally confirm it, but her breath hitched as she struggled to keep from all-out crying.
"Alright," John replied with a nod. "Good to hear." He reached out and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "You don't have to tell me what happened with Mycroft, in fact you don't have to tell me anything at all," he admitted. "And I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds just now but you were really out of line. That being said… is there somewhere you want to go? Something you want to do?"
For a moment Rose just stared at him, looking so lost and John instinctively pulled her into a hug. He felt her hesitate for a moment, before putting her arms around him and pressing her face into his shoulder.
"No more tears," he murmured in a gentle tone. "Deep breaths, you'll be alright. That's a good girl," he praised when Rose did as he asked. It amazed him that this young woman he held in his arms was the same one who had survived in the world all on her own for over a year. Then again, everyone had their breaking point, and if the raised voices he'd heard were any indication, things had gone very badly in Mycroft's office.
"Better?" he asked after a few moments. "How does coffee sound? There's a great coffee shop just a couple blocks away that makes the best lattes anywhere."
She looked up at him, giving him a small smile as she pushed her curls away from her face. "That sounds good, actually. And John? I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done any of that, especially not slap you. I was really, really angry, and hurting, and you had nothing to do with that. I'm so sorry."
"It's alright, I won't hold it against you," John told her with a smile. "So, may I escort you to the coffee shop?" He held his arm out for her to take, hoping Rose wouldn't use this as an opportunity to run away from him. Much to his relief, she slipped her arm through his and they started off towards the coffee shop. "That's a good girl," he said quietly, patting her hand. "Just remember I'm not your enemy in any of this family business, yeah?"
"I will," Rose assured him. "I promise. Speaking of family, what are we going to tell my brother? Sherlock, I mean, about… uh, that bit just now?"
John began to blush and coughed uncomfortably, uncertain how Sherlock would feel about him taking it upon himself to spank Rose. "Well… That is a good question; a very good question indeed..."