The next few days of her grounding were some of Rose's busiest yet. She volunteered, putting in as many hours a day as Lestrade would allow her to, then generally proceeded to Mycroft's in order to pack her things for the upcoming move. She'd had dinner with him three times and there hadn't even been any fighting. Rose was certain things couldn't be better! With the exception of the looming spanking due the last night of her grounding.
"You're certain you want to move still?" Mycroft asked her one evening as he stood in the doorframe of her old bedroom. "You can stay here as long as you like, the door is always open."
Rose gave him a sweet smile, suspecting he was far more concerned about being alone in this big house than he was with her being away from his watchful eye. "I know I haven't been back all that long, just a couple weeks in fact, but I really can't imagine not living at Baker Street with the boys. Though I'm certain we'll all be very happy for me to have my own little place. A girl can't sleep on a lie-low forever," she admitted with a laugh.
"You can take whatever you'd like from here," he offered. "Whatever will make you comfortable." The large old house had plenty of rooms that were unused with various sets of furniture and the kitchen had an overabundance of dish sets.
She nodded, smiling once again. "I know. You told me a few times now," Rose pointed out gently. "I really will be ok. They won't let anything happen to me, you know that."
Mycroft crossed the room and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I know that. For all Sherlock is reckless with himself, he's very protective of you. Always has been. I'm just not certain I like you growing up." He'd really enjoyed having Rose around while she packed over the last few days.
"It was bound to happen someday. Everyone does it. For what it's worth, I don't plan on leaving again. Leaving, leaving. I'm much happier here than I ever was while adventuring, and you've been trying very hard to give me some space. I appreciate that," Rose assured him. "I'm only a short drive away. I'll come visit, and you can come visit me. I'll even cook for you!"
"I'd like that, very much," he assured her. He reached out and cupped her face with his hand, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb. While he would never admit it to anyone, Mycroft had taken Sherlock's words to heart about being more affectionate with Rose. He was trying very hard to do that, even though it was still quite awkward for him to a certain extent.
"You're a good girl Rose," Mycroft murmured. "I don't think I tell you that often enough, but you are."
Her face lit up at his words and she immediately hugged him tightly. "That means a lot to me. I know it's hard for you, but it means the world to me that you're trying."
Mycroft was still for a moment before wrapping his arms around her as well and hugging Rose tightly. "You're worth it, you know," he whispered. "Will you stay for dinner again? I asked cook to make your favorites."
"I'd like that a lot actually. Are you going to help with the move on Saturday?" Rose asked.
"I thought I'd be the director on this side of things. Make certain the movers don't damage anything, including the house, while loading the truck," Mycroft explained.
"Sherlock is going to be a nightmare for those poor movers, I just know it. He lacks good people skills sometimes," Rose giggled. "He means well, but unless you know him, you miss that part! I'm going to do my best to act as a buffer so the movers aren't raked over the coals. And I've recruited the boys and Mrs. Hudson to help me unpack once the movers leave. It'll be a busy day."
'Is she still with you? SH'
'Just sent her off in a cab. Had a lovely evening. M'
'Good. SH'
'Keep her safe, Sherlock. I feel very uneasy about this. M'
Sherlock smiled just a bit as he read Mycroft's text. 'She'll be fine. We'll all keep watch. SH'
'We? M'
'John, Mrs. Hudson and I. SH'
'Mrs. Hudson? M'
'Without her, England would fall. SH'
"There she is," John announced, smiling as Rose entered the flat a few minutes later. "How'd it go love? Nice evening, everything packed?"
"Mycroft is trying so hard, I'm so proud of him," she responded, positively beaming. "Cook made my favorites and everything that needs to be boxed has been boxed. I'm exhausted." Rose flopped onto the couch and smiled.
"Takeaway? Again?" she asked, giving John and Sherlock a stern look. "Do you two ever eat anything that isn't takeaway? If I wasn't here I think you'd both starve to death."
"Mrs. Hudson would never allow that," Sherlock assured her.
"And I make very good breakfasts, I'll have you know," John retorted with a smile. "And manage just fine with other meals. I may not be as good at it as you, or Mrs. Hudson, but we won't starve."
"Hmm. Not convinced," Rose decided. "Good thing for you I'm not going far."
"You watch John, she'll spend just as much time here as she does presently," Sherlock predicted.
"Perhaps. Can't say I'd be sad about it," John admitted. "She's delightful."
Sherlock rolled his eyes but chose not to comment.
"I knew I liked you," Rose giggled, giving John a wink. "Well, I'm exhausted. I'm going to try and get some sleep."
"Ah ah ah; not so fast. We need to have our discussion," Sherlock reminded her. "We're setting you free tomorrow, remember? Your final night of being grounded."
"Oh, trust me, I've been counting the days," Rose admitted. "I was just really hoping you'd forget about that part."
"Highly unlikely."
John's heart went out to her. Rose had been so well behaved since that evening he'd spanked her! He gave Sherlock a look, hoping his friend would relent.
"Don't you start, John Watson. She'll be completely unmanageable if I don't follow through," Sherlock said.
Rose scowled. "She's right here, listening to you two."
With a sigh, Sherlock crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," he said quietly. "You knew this was coming, and I don't like it either, but you know it's well deserved."
She snuggled close. "I know. I still hate it though. But then it's done, right?"
He nodded. "Go get ready for bed, I'll be in shortly. I love you, Rose."
"Love you too," Rose responded. She gave him a hug before heading into the bedroom to get ready for bed.
Twenty agonizing minutes later, Sherlock knocked on the door before entering. Rose's stomach had tied itself in knots while she'd waited, and she gave him a nervous look when he entered.
"You didn't bring anything," she commented.
"I didn't think it was necessary," Sherlock explained. "My hand should be enough. Don't look quite so forlorn." He sat beside Rose and hugged her close, content to cuddle her close for a few minutes. There was no rush after all.
Finally, Rose pulled away. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She gave him a tiny smile, clearly making an effort to be brave.
"Over my knee then," Sherlock instructed her. He waited until she positioned herself over his lap before baring her bottom and wrapping an arm around her waist. "Why are you getting a spanking, Rosenwyn?" The question was punctuated by a sharp swat to her right cheek.
Rose scowled, finding it monumentally unfair to be asked questions while being spanked.
"Rosenwyn, I'm waiting for an answer," Sherlock said sternly. When she remained silent, he began swatting her upper thighs.
"Ow! Okay, okay! Ow!" Rose yelped. "Because I destroyed a crime scene- ow! Ow! Not so hard! And didn't think about alternatives to getting you that creepy fan letter. Owwww!"
Sherlock nodded in agreement with her response; not that she could see it of course. "That's precisely right. When you do not take the time to think things through and respond to obstacles in appropriate ways, there can be unintended consequences, like contaminating important evidence." He had been spanking her slowly while scolding, but feeling that the point had been made and was understood, Sherlock picked up the pace, peppering her bottom with hearty smacks.
"No! No no no!" Rose cried out. Though she couldn't see it, her bottom was rapidly becoming first pink, then red, as Sherlock ignored her tears and squirming, determined to deliver a sound spanking. He hoped it would be the last for some time. When she threw her hand back, he caught it, and continued.
Finally, just when Rose was certain she couldn't take anymore and lay across his lap, sobbing and no longer squirming. That was when Sherlock stopped, righted her clothing, and immediately helped her up. Enveloping her in a hug, he eased her back onto his lap, this time right side up, and tried to soothe the tears he had caused.
"It's all done now," Sherlock assured her. "You're forgiven and we won't think about it ever again. You took that so well, you're such a good girl. I love you, Rose. It'll be alright and you'll be just fine. I wouldn't have it any other way." As he held her tight, Rose's arms wrapped around him and she pressed her face against his shoulder, continuing to cry.
It took several minutes of cuddling and comfort, during which Sherlock spoke soothingly to her and even rocked her in his arms, before Rose's tears stopped. "I'm so glad that's over," he murmured before kissing her head.
"You're glad that's over? Not nearly as glad as I am," Rose retorted. She tried to sound angry, but she just couldn't manage it.
Sherlock chuckled and gave her a wink. "Will you live to plague me another day?"
She rewarded him with a smile and nodded. "I do believe I will. Not that easy to get rid of me, after all. I've quite decided I like it here, spankings aside, and I'm going to stick around a good long while."
"That is very happy news indeed," Sherlock decided. He settled back further on the bed, happy to hold on to Rose for as long as she wished him to.
The following morning Rose rushed out of her cab and into the coffee shop. It had become a routine each day: she bought Greg coffee in the morning; he bought her one in the afternoon. Today she was running a little bit late, but knew he'd let it go if she managed to get the drink. The shop was busy, but several workers spotted her and waved as she stood in line.
Having been there every morning for almost a week, Rose was on a first name basis with each of the workers, which is why she was caught by surprise when an unknown male around her age was working the cash register. "Morning," Rose greeted with a smile before placing her order. "Are you new? I haven't seen you before."
He nodded, returning her smile. "First day. Can I have names for the cups?"
"Put Rose on one and Greg on the other; I buy coffee for my boss," she explained.
"Oh, that's nice. Are you here often?"
"Pretty much every day, or so it seems," Rose admitted, handing over her card to pay for the drinks.
"Guess I'll see you around then," he commented.
"Probably so. Have a good day!" Rose moved out of the ordering line and waited off to the side for the drinks to be completed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look over at her every so often, and she was rather flattered. It was nice to be admired by a handsome man! She made certain to give him a wave before leaving and hurrying up the block.
"I'm not late! I'm not!" Rose protested as she scurried into Lestrade's office.
"Clock says you are," he commented, reaching for the coffee.
"Then the clock is wrong," she decided. "The shop was really busy and I got chatted up a bit. I apologize."
Lestrade waved a hand. "I'm not really concerned. I hadn't even sent Sherlock a text yet asking after you. Besides, you brought me coffee. How can I complain?" He winked and handed her a pile of work, directing her to the desk that she'd been using.
By the time 4pm rolled around, Rose had coffee orders from ten people for her scheduled daily run. "There are a lot of them today. It's going to take a bit Greg," she pointed out to Lestrade. "And you want your usual, yeah?"
"Please. And I'm not concerned about the time. You're still on the clock for volunteering," Lestrade assured her with a smile. "Can you make it back with all those on your own?"
"I used to waitress, I'm sure I can manage just fine," she replied.
"If you change your mind, send me a text and I'll send someone down. Now off you go, I'm suffering caffeine withdrawal already!"
Rose gave him a bit of a salute and headed off down the street towards the coffee shop. As she entered, someone bumped into her, almost knocking her off. "Hey, watch… Oh! It's you from this morning. The new guy," she said, giving him a smile. "In a rush?"
"No, I didn't see you; apologies," the young man said. "Name's Mark. Your name is Rose, right? Back again?"
She nodded. "More coffee for the boss, and some of the others. It's a ritual now, every day at 4pm." Rose beamed when he opened the door and held it for her. "Have a nice day Mark. Lovely to meet you." Placing the orders, she waited about fifteen minutes for them to be filled and carefully stacked the drink trays for the walk up the block.
"Did you need help?" Someone asked as she exited.
"Oh! Mark. I'm alright," she assured him. "Just going up the street to Scotland Yard."
"I wouldn't mind. I'm going that way to take the tube. The station's right by there," he pointed out. Mark flashed her a charming smile; it made Rose feel like melting and she was sure her cheeks were getting pink.
"Alright, but just to the building. I'm not sure I should let you inside," Rose admitted, allowing him to take two of the three drink trays.
They chatted pleasantly while making their way up the street, until they reached Scotland Yard and Rose took the trays back. "Thanks Mark. That was very sweet of you. Gentlemen are hard to find," she said sincerely.
"Anytime," he said. Giving her a wave he headed off to the tube while she headed inside.
Reaching the floor where Lestrade and the homicide squad were located, Rose could instantly tell something had happened. People were scurrying around and Lestrade was barking out orders and pulling on his coat.
"Have to take it to go," he told Rose, grabbing his drink. "There's been a murder. Don't stay later than six and ask someone for a ride if you need one. Behave!" He winked at her before entering the elevator and disappearing.
The following evening, Rose was laid out on the floor of 221C. "I am so horribly exhausted," she announced. "It's got to be a takeaway night. I can't even imagine summoning the energy to cook anything for anyone for at least the next twelve hours."
Sherlock and John were similarly sprawled out on the floor, one of either side of her. "Now, see, I find that quite funny, that you're so exhausted," John commented. "When we did all the work."
"And Lestrade, don't forget that," Sherlock added.
"I did work. I brought up a ton of boxes!" Rose protested.
Both men looked at her, eyebrows quirked.
"Okay, many boxes."
"Try again," John told her.
"Several?" Rose offered.
John shook his head. "Nope."
"You brought up three boxes," Sherlock stated. "Three boxes of breakables that weren't particularly large boxes at that."
"Yes, well I'm not the one that ran off the movers Mycroft hired, am I?" She quipped, giving Sherlock a hard look.
"Got you there," John agreed. "Neither of us ran them off. Or even Mycroft in fact."
Sherlock growled. "They were carrying things poorly that should have been better protected. And they were tracking mud on Mrs. Hudson's carpets! And it's hardly my fault they were illiterate and couldn't tell the word "bedroom" from "bathroom" when both were written in the Queen's good English."
Rose let out a heavy sigh. "Sherlock, you're being dull." She smiled at John when he snickered. "We heard this bit already, when you were shouting at the movers and calling them names."
Sherlock continued on as if she had never said a word. "And they were stacking boxes inappropriately, even when they managed to put them in the right places! Boxes stacked on top of one another must be of similar size and weight or they are unlikely to stay up right."
At that precise moment a large box fell over, toppling a whole small stack of boxes, spilling books at their feet. "You see?" Sherlock said, pointing at the mess. "Stacked inappropriately. Imbeciles."
"I'm too tired to move. I might starve to death right here. Wouldn't that be something? Get shot in Afghanistan, live, and then die of starvation in Baker Street," John mused.
Rose rolled over onto her stomach to look at John. "Speaking of which, how is your shoulder? I told you to be careful, didn't I? And you wouldn't listen."
"We couldn't leave half your things in the street," John countered. "And I'm alright."
"Liar. Don't go hurting yourself on my account, I'll feel badly," she said sincerely.
"Hoo-hoo!" A familiar voice called as its owner came up the stairs. "Come downstairs, the lot of you," Mrs. Hudson requested. "I baked a cake just for Rose. So exciting, your first flat! And you picked me. I mean my building."
"Of course I did Mrs. Hudson," Rose said with a smile. "How about we get some takeaway and make it a real party? If you don't mind having us."
"No love, of course not. Come on then, up off the floor. John, how is that shoulder?" Mrs. Hudson fussed over him for a moment before leading the procession of weary movers down the stairs.
"You know I couldn't live anywhere else, Mrs. Hudson. And I'll be the best of tenants, I promise," Rose assured the sweet landlady.
"Oh, I've no doubt you will be. Just don't let that brother of yours start shooting up any walls in there."
The sounds of a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air. It was 2am and two men who had previously been asleep tripped over their covers as they scramble to get out of bed as they heard another scream. One grabbed his gun, the other his harpoon. A key went into a lock and was turned, allowing them to rush into the room, following the screams, uncertain what they would find.
Only to find Rose, in the bathroom, screaming her head off and frantically trying to kill two spiders on the wall.
"You have got to be kidding me," John grumbled, putting down his gun. "For God's sake Rose, they're spiders. They won't kill you."
"Don't bother," Sherlock grumbled as he dealt with the spiders. "Irrational fear of hers, never changes, can't do spiders. If you give a girl a flat, you'd think she could manage that all on her own, but oh no. Not Rosenwyn Holmes, not when it's a spider."
John sighed heavily. "Back to bed, no more screaming, or I'll give you something to scream about," he told Rose, far more tired and grumpy than he was actually angry. "You know, I don't think we're ever going to have a good night's sleep with her in another flat, even if it is next door."
"Very cleverly deduced," Sherlock praised. "If only we'd thought of that sooner." Putting aside his harpoon, he hugged Rose tight and kissed her forehead before returning to 221B.