NOTE: My apologies for taking so long to update. Real life rather exploded this past week! So now I offer you a longer chapter. Enjoy!
By the time Sherlock entered the bedroom, with Mycroft close behind him carrying a kitchen chair, Rose was a bundle of nerves. Uncertain what fate awaited her, other than the obvious sore bottom, she sat leaning against the headboard, knees pulled up to her chest, while biting her lower lip.
"Stop that with your lip," Mycroft commented. "I've been telling you for years not to do that."
"Nervous," she murmured.
"You should be."
Rose sighed heavily. "Mycroft, I'm really serious. I'm horribly nervous. It's been a really long time since you've both been this unhappy with me."
"I can tell," Sherlock admitted, coming to sit beside her on the bed. "We don't plan on injuring you."
She scooted closer, leaning against his side. She felt a bit better once Sherlock had his arm around her. "I know that. Of course I know that," Rose assured him.
"Good," Sherlock murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"Maybe you two could just pronounce my sentence and get on with it," Rose requested rather meekly before helping herself to Sherlock's lap. She pressed her face against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly.
The two brothers shared a concerned look over her head. This was very unlike their Rose.
Mycroft joined his siblings on the bed and reached out to rub Rose's back. "You're feeling quite guilty, aren't you?" he inquired with a surprising amount of gentleness. "And anxious because you've had to wait so long."
Rose nodded just slightly. "Yes. And no. But yes," she responded, her words a bit muffled by Sherlock's shirt.
"I think that's going to require a bit of explanation darling," Sherlock said softly.
Mycroft's eyebrow rose at Sherlock's term of endearment but he otherwise refrained from commenting on it.
"I'm not ok," Rose whispered.
Sherlock paused for a moment. "Considering the fact that you're still here, rather than having gone out the window, which clearly indicates that on some level- likely subconsciously of course- you actually are alright with it," he pointed out.
Mycroft attempted to cover up a snort with a cough and failed. "Generally, brother, she's smart enough not to do the same thing twice. Which is more than can be said for you."
"Why are you two purposely being stupid?" Rose asked, sounding genuinely distressed.
Sherlock held her tighter and rested his chin on top of her head, murmuring an apology meant for her ears only.
"I do feel guilty. Really horribly guilty. I worried you all so much; John took a man's life to save mine. I almost died; I almost got myself killed because I'm so ridiculously stupid and stubborn. Yes, I'm anxious, because this is never fun, and I'm certain you two have thought up something really awful. I just… This isn't going to make it all better. Nothing is going to make it all better, and I really, really don't like that at all," Rose tried to explain.
"I lied to all of you; I kept secrets I should never have kept. Yeah, alright, so I've been spanked loads of times, but this time it's different. Because it won't make all that go away. I won't be any more trustworthy afterwards, nor will it be forgive and forget this time, because no one will ever forget this and it will take me ages to earn forgiveness from you both."
Mycroft cleared his throat loudly, causing Rose to lift her head from Sherlock's shoulder just enough to peek over at him. "Look at me Rosenwyn," he said sternly. "Lift your head up and look at me." When she did so, Mycroft moved closer and reached out to take her chin, holding it gently but firmly.
"Now you listen to me and listen well. You're quite confused and I'm going to enlighten you. The hierarchy of this family has not changed and will not change. I am the head of this family-"
Sherlock snorted but otherwise remained silent.
"I am the head of this family," Mycroft continued. "Additionally, I raised you, so I make the rules; that's how it works. I do not appreciate your attempts to usurp my authority here, young lady. I have not said a single word about losing trust in you for the remainder of your life, nor have I suggested you will not be forgiven. As always, the slate will be wiped clean and our trust in you will be restored in short order, I'm certain of it. But I'll not have you being harder on yourself than I am. That is completely unacceptable and I will not have it. Are we quite clear?"
Rose gulped audibly before responding with a whispered, "Yes, sir," that caused Mycroft's eyebrows to shoot upwards as he released her chin.
"And I feel precisely the same way Rose," Sherlock added. "Minus that whole head of the family rubbish. Now, if that is all sorted out, I suggest we move on to the discussion phase of this little family meeting. Start us out, oh-head-of-the-family," he directed his brother.
"I think we can dispense with the lecture portion. I'm satisfied that you understand why you're being punished. This is going to be a spanking in two parts," Mycroft informed her. "You will go over my knee for a hand spanking and Sherlock will handle the second part."
"I will be using a strap, after Mycroft is done with you," Sherlock told her. "The amount of danger you put yourself in demands more than the average spanking. I want to make a very serious point that this had better not ever happen again."
She made a whining noise that caused her brothers to chuckle. "I don't like the idea of that. Do I get a vote? I think something else would work just fine. Like… a really long time out," Rose offered. "Really, that would be plenty."
"Well, we can add that as well if you'd like," Mycroft offered in a dangerous tone.
"Never mind," Rose grumbled. "Let's get this done before I really do start thinking about going out the window."
"Off to Mycroft you go then," Sherlock stated, helping her up from his lap. "Would you… uh… Do you want me to stay?"
"Sherlock, you're such an idiot. No I do not want an audience, thank you very much!" she stated firmly.
Sherlock scowled at her. "I was trying to be nice."
"Well you suck at it, so I suggest you stop trying." Despite Rose's biting words, a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I will leave you both to it then," he agreed. After kissing the top of her head, Sherlock exited his bedroom.
Rose promptly flopped back on the bed. "This… is awkward."
"Is it really? I cannot imagine that to be true Rose. You've certainly been over my knee enough times that it should be very familiar to you," Mycroft pointed out. While she glared at him, he stood and took off his suit jacket, placing it on the bed before unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
"No. No no no. No rolling up your sleeves! That always means you're going to be really serious about it! Stop doing that!" Rose demanded.
Her demand was ignored completely and Mycroft sat down on the chair he'd brought in with him. "I do not want to cause undue stress to your injuries, so come lean over and see if this will cause any strain," he instructed. "And you can stop all the whining and pleading now, before you even get started. I'm not going to listen to any of it, and you know that. It never works with me."
Damn if he wasn't right and Rose knew it too. Mycroft never relented, no matter what she did to try and convince him. She blamed Sherlock for that; their eldest brother had had far too much practice on Sherlock before Rose had come along, and Mycroft was pretty much immune to any sort of wheedling she might try. But, she always tried just the same.
Rose got up with a sigh and went to Mycroft's side, bending carefully over his knee. "I think it'll be alright actually," she admitted. "I don't feel like anything is hurting or has too much pressure on it."
"Excellent. If that changes, you need to let me know. And don't say "Mycroft, it hurts!" because you're being spanked so of course that hurts. Say something different so I know you aren't just whining about your bottom," Mycroft instructed. He then helped her up from his lap, standing her at his side. "Pajama bottoms down," he instructed.
"Oh Mycroft, come on! Please let me keep them on, they're sort of thin," Rose pleaded.
Rather than giving her a verbal response, Mycroft simply tugged her pajama bottoms down himself, then tugged her back over his lap. While she sputtered indignantly, he pulled her panties down to her knees. "This will be much easier if you cooperate," he warned. "Are you going to keep your hands in front of you, or would you like me to hold them?"
Rose took a few seconds to think that over before putting her right hand back. "Better hold this one," she said softly.
Mycroft took her hand in his and squeezed it gently before holding it at the small of her back. He then raised his right hand and brought it down hard on her right cheek, causing Rose to let out a little gasp. His hand then fell in the identical spot on her left cheek. Mycroft picked up the pace, landing crisp swats all over her bottom, quickly raising heat and sting.
For a little bit, Rose was quiet and still, other than some movement in response to swats to her sit spots. That's when she opened up and began to protest. "Ow! My, not there!" she exclaimed, beginning to squirm. "Owww! That's enough!"
"If you're attempting to order me around, then it's not nearly enough," Mycroft pointed out in a stern tone. His hand went back and forth, up and down her cheeks, putting quite a bit of strength behind the smacks.
"No! Oww! Ow! Please!" she pleaded, starting to cry. "I'm sorry!"
And just like that, he stopped. Mycroft did not let her up, however, but rested his hand on her hot cheeks instead. "What are you being spanked for, Rosenwyn? Why are we doing this?" he inquired.
"Because I almost died," Rose whimpered as tears trailed down her face.
"No," Mycroft responded, landing an almighty smack across the center of her bottom. "Try again."
"I don't want to do this, I… Ow!" Rose squirmed and kicked as he smacked her again.
"Keep those feet down," he said sternly, giving each of her thighs a good smack. "You know better. Now answer the question or I'll tell you and that won't be pleasant."
"None of its pleasant," she whined through her tears.
Sighing heavily, Mycroft gave up trying to get her to cooperate and resumed spanking, emphasizing particular words with hearty swats to her sit spots that made her squirm over his lap. "You do not keep secrets. You do not lie. You do not put yourself in danger. That is why you're being spanked Rosenwyn. No secrets, no lies, no danger. Am I making myself clear?"
Rather than answer him, Rose started to sob. They were heavy sobs, indicating hurt that came from more than just her spanking. Mycroft closed his eyes for several seconds, trying to tune out her tears in order to finish. Taking a deep breath, he landed a volley of spanks on her sit spots and lower cheeks, much harder and faster than before. When her sobbing and weeping came to a crescendo, Mycroft stopped swatting her and carefully righted her clothing.
For a long moment, Mycroft didn't say anything, opting instead to rub her back soothingly. When her tears decreased a bit in volume, he carefully helped her up from his lap.
Rose immediately turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around herself in a bid for comfort.
Watching her turn away from him was painful. Why had he ever thought she was too old to be held after punishment, Mycroft wondered. He thought of all the times in the few years before her disappearance that he had spanked her and not followed it with some comforting, in a misguided attempt to acknowledge she was no longer a baby. A wave of guilt overwhelmed him. God, what had he been thinking? He'd been such an idiot.
He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. "I have it on good authority you still like to be cuddled afterwards. That you're not too old for it after all," Mycroft said softly. "Is that true?"
She nodded and turned around to face him, letting him pull her close and hug her tightly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Not for spanking you, of course, that was well deserved. But for the times I didn't do this afterwards. Forgive me?"
Her tears were momentarily silenced as she looked up at Mycroft and saw that he was in earnest. "Yeah, but only if you cuddle me up good right now," Rose pleaded before burying her face against his chest.
Mycroft hugged her even tighter, then let go just enough to nudge her in the direction of the bed. He sat on it and settled her on his lap, taking care not to put too much pressure on her freshly spanked bottom. "You cannot do this again," he murmured, rubbing her back gently. "Never again. You can't ever put yourself in such a dangerous situation. I thought I'd been frightened while you were gallivanting around Europe and who knows where, but that was nothing compared to seeing you so… injured. Promise me Rose, please promise me you'll come to me next time. Or if not me, someone else that you trust."
"I promise," Rose whispered. She helped herself to his handkerchief and tried valiantly to dry her face. "My, I don't… I don't want the strap. Please, My."
"That's not up for negotiation," he said firmly. "You deserve it and you know that. I know you do. You'll survive and Sherlock will cuddle you as well and probably fuss over you after too."
"But it's going to hurt a lot." Her voice took on a little hint of a whine as she said it.
"That is rather the point, Rosenwyn," Mycroft stated, though not unkindly. "That's part of the lesson. It's not as though you'll be injured. I'm certain you'd rather have the strap than the cane, correct? Sherlock was quite stroppy about it when I suggested it, so you might want to tell him thank you."
"You are definitely the mean brother," she grumbled, but didn't actually mean it.
Mycroft kissed the top of her head. "I'm more than happy to be the 'mean brother' if that's what keeps you safe. Your safety is paramount. Whether you like me or not, that's secondary. I'd much rather have you alive but hate me than not have you alive at all. Though, if I had a choice, I'd prefer you didn't hate me."
"Of course I don't hate you," Rose assured him, sighing a bit. "Not that I haven't tried to sometimes, but it never worked."
A knock on the door sounded and neither of them was surprised when Sherlock stuck his head in the room. "Things quieted down so I thought I'd come check on Rose."
"Still alive, Mycroft is still mean," Rose answered him, giving her brother a little smile. "And now you're here for your turn, aren't you?'
"Yes," Sherlock answered, seeing no reason to try and put it more delicately. Delicate wasn't his style, after all.
Rose extricated herself from Mycroft's arms, wincing when her bottom touched the bed. She hurriedly stood up and rubbed her sore cheeks. "Before you ask, My, I still don't want an audience. Consider yourself dismissed," Rose said, trying to be funny. She even managed a little smile.
"I'll be in the sitting room if you change your mind," Mycroft told her before making his exit.
Sherlock and Rose stood there for a moment, looking at each other.
"This is really awkward. I said the same thing to My, but this is seriously awkward, because you're never this hard on me," Rose decided.
"You've never needed me to be before this," Sherlock countered. "You look like a wounded puppy, Rose. Stop looking at me like that. Your bid for sympathy isn't going to be successful, miss." To ease the sting from his words, he closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. "You know I am not going to injure you, correct?"
"Oh Sherlock, of course I know that," Rose hurried to assure him. "I just don't have to like it, that's all."
"It would lose its effectiveness if you liked it," Sherlock pointed out with a chuckle. "Let's get this done, shall we?" When she nodded, he let her go and went over to the bed, piling some pillows in the middle of the bed. "Alright, come over here. Pajama bottoms and pants down and lie over the pillows. How are you faring? Injuries bothering you at all?"
"No, I'm doing fine in that respect. I'll let you know if that changes," she promised as she got up on the bed. Taking a deep breath, as if trying to summon the last of her courage, Rose pushed her pajama bottoms and panties down and positioned herself over the pillows. "For the record, I hate this. I don't like this."
"What specifically?"
"This pillow thing. I don't like it," she huffed.
"What would you prefer? And don't say no spanking because I really don't want to hear that presently," Sherlock warned. He unbuttoned his cuffs and began rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
She frowned when he began rolling up his shirt sleeves, then shrugged and let out a sigh. "I don't know, I guess."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he thought about her words. "You prefer being over my knee, don't you?"
Blushing a bit, Rose nodded.
"Because it's comforting, having someone holding you, in effect, while you're being spanked," he continued.
Another nod and more blushing.
"Despite the fact that it's the more childish position for punishment."
"You're not making me feel better right now," Rose responded, her eyes downcast.
"That's very interesting."
"Shut up."
"Not the best time to be cheeky," Sherlock pointed out. "But I do find this very interesting and it's something I'll keep in mind."
Another huff. "Hate you," she decided, pouting now.
"Back to business. It's very important that you stay in position Rose. Keep your hands away and stay over the pillow. I don't want the strap to get you somewhere it shouldn't," Sherlock explained. "If you can't manage that, tell me, and I'll try to help you. It'll be a dozen. Are you ready?"
Rose made certain her hands were in front of her and was already balling them into fists. "That's a completely idiotic question Sherlock. Just get on with it before I can't be brave about it any longer."
Sherlock nodded his agreement and moved beside the bed. Part of him wanted to skip this entirely. Mycroft had been very thorough, as usual, and despite having had a bit of a break between then and now her bottom was practically glowing still. Another part of him knew this was necessary, and that part of him recalled the pile of letters he'd gone through at the hospital. Keeping secrets had nearly gotten her killed. Sherlock closed his eyes, picturing her on the pavement, covered in blood.
That was all the motivation he needed to do this. Sherlock raised the strap and brought it down sharply across the middle of her cheeks. He flinched at the sound of it and his heart contracted when Rose cried out in response. Raising the strap again, he brought it down across the crest of her cheeks and landed another right below that.
The second stroke took Rose's breath away and she gasped for air when the third landed before letting out a wail. Her feet drummed up and down on the bed and she managed to stay over the pillows, despite the overwhelming urge to simply roll away.
"You're being so brave Rose, so very brave," Sherlock praised. He could sense she needed it, though he wasn't entirely certain she'd heard him as she began crying in earnest once more. He raised the strap for the fourth time, bringing it down just as sharply, cringing as it overlapped the first stroke. The fifth landed a little lower, again overlapping. Sherlock hated having to do that, but Rose was rather small.
"No! No! No! Owwww! Sherlock!" Rose pleaded. "No more!"
Sherlock forced himself to ignore her tears, certain this was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. God he hoped the lesson stuck! The thick leather strap fell twice more. "Almost there Rosie, almost there," he assured her.
Rose promptly buried her face in the duvet as she continued to sob and drum her feet. The duvet couldn't cover her wail when the next strokes, eight and nine, landed across her sit spots.
Ten landed across the top of her thighs and Sherlock cringed at the howl she let out. Uncertain whether it was for him, for her, or the both of them, he quickly delivered the last two smacks across the center of her cheeks before tossing the strap on the floor. Rose's sobs were heart wrenching and he immediately moved the pillows from underneath her and sat down at her side.
"Can you breathe, with your face in there like that?" Sherlock asked, rubbing her back. "I'm not convinced you can." No change in her tears, so clearly attempts at levity were not yet appropriate. Time for another tactic.
"Rosie, it's alright. It's all done now and over. No more spanking, hopefully for a very long time. Take some deep breaths for me, will you? That's what John always says. Not certain if it works, but let's try it just the same." Again no luck.
"Let me cuddle you, Rose," Sherlock said, using a bit of a firmer tone. "Come on, let me cuddle you and make it better. You were a very brave girl, I'm so proud of you."
Rather than moving so he could comfort her, Rose turned her head towards him. "It hurrrrrrrrrts," she sobbed. "So bad!"
"Should I rub it a bit? Would that help? You really need to stop crying if you can," Sherlock said gently. He leaned over to kiss her head before gently rubbing her dark red cheeks. The yelp she let out told him that wasn't going to work either.
With the utmost care, Sherlock righted her clothing, cringing as she let out another yelp. "What I wouldn't give for a rocking chair right now," he murmured as he picked Rose up. He sat down, placing her carefully in his lap and began rocking back and forth slowly. "Shh, it's all done now," he soothed. "All done. You were such a brave girl. I'm so proud of you darling, I really am. That was hard, I know it was. You're my brave, good girl, Rosie."
It took several minutes for her to calm down, but Sherlock kept up his soothing ministrations until her tears died down to sniffles. "I love you, you know," he whispered in her ear.
"I know," Rose whispered back. "I love you too. It really, really hurts though Sherlock."
He nodded, giving her a sympathetic look. "I know. I've had that before, it's quite mean. I'll tell you a secret- you took that so much better than I did. Ask Mycroft, he'll tell you."
That got him a bit of a smile, and Sherlock felt incredibly relieved to see it. "Will you live to misbehave another day?"
"Probably," she said, snuggling close.
"You look exhausted," Sherlock told her. "And quite awful in general."
Rose rolled her eyes. "Thank you, brother dear. You always know the right thing to say; must be a gift."
A knock sounded at the door and the siblings looked over, completely unsurprised to see Mycroft enter the room. "The caterwauling stopped so I thought I'd check in," he explained.
Rose and Sherlock shared a look before simultaneously tossing pillows in his direction.
"Was I really caterwauling?" she asked, looking up at Sherlock.
"Not really. Although you might very well have been; you kept your face in the duvet most of the time, so it's hard to know," Sherlock admitted. "Is there a reason you're here Mycroft?"
The eldest Holmes scowled at his younger brother. "I was worried about Rose."
"There's too much love going on right now," Rose commented. "It's a bit frightening. We don't do this. We never do this. Very strange, but a bit good too."
"So the Holmes family as per usual then?" Mycroft inquired. "How are you faring?"
She nodded. "I lived, even enough to misbehave another day," she assured her older brother. "Your strap, on the other hand, is unlikely to survive the day."
An eyebrow quirked. "It's not the only one in the world. It's replaceable. You, however, aren't. Do keep that in mind, won't you, sister mine?"
Rose scrunched up her nose in a look of mild disgust. "Again, too much love going on. I'm not certain I can handle it. Stop being odd, both of you."
"So you're done with your cuddle then?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, let's not be drastic about it," she amended, blushing.
Mycroft joined them on the bed and reached over to take Rose's chin in his hand once more. "Learnt your lesson, Rosenwyn?"
"Yes."
"You're entirely certain? Nothing needs further clarification? You're absolutely clear on where we stand when it comes to keeping secrets and being untruthful?" Mycroft checked.
"I mean it My. I promise it's all very clear," she mumbled, blushing again.
He released her chin and sighed. "I was so hoping you would "Yes, sir" me again. That was quite… refreshing."
Sherlock snorted and tickled her side just a bit. "That was really quite unexpected. I almost started laughing, did you realize? The look of shock on Mycroft's face was rather amusing as well."
Rose scowled up at him. "No, I didn't and it wasn't a laughing matter. I hate you now. Both of you. Rest assured, My, it's not likely to happen again. I suggest you savor that memory while your brain still retains new ones."
"Now this does feel more like us, doesn't it?" Mycroft mused.
"We're awful to each other, but we mean it in a loving sort of way. We don't indulge in the lovey business normal people do. At least not that we admit," she giggled.
"Mycroft was hilarious when you were a little thing. Little as in age, considering you're still on the little end of things in terms of your height," Sherlock clarified. "He always smiled when he held you, and he'd rock you, and take you in his study to play.
"There was a point where I worried if you'd even know your name because he was always calling you 'little lady' and 'Baby.' It was really downright alarming. Though you were rather adorable, especially when you scowled and stamped your foot at him. You tried very hard to act stern as a way to overcome your itty bitty size."
"Still hate you, but look at his face," Rose laughed, indicating Mycroft. "It's brilliant, keep going! I love it when he looks so uncomfortable."
"You're both monstrous things," the eldest Holmes grumbled. "I think I'll take my leave now. Provided you have no objection?" he asked Rose.
"I'll text if I need you, promise. Or possibly to confirm silly stories Sherlock tells me about you when I was too little to remember all the warm fuzzy moments."
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Lovely. You're a horrid boy Sherlock; always have been." He pressed a kiss to Rose's forehead and then stood up from the bed. "Be a good girl now, will you? Follow doctor's orders and stop trying to prove you're indestructible?"
"Scolding time is over now. It's cuddle time," Rose informed him with a pout.
"Yes Mycroft, she's right. Cuddle time." The uncomfortable look that crossed their older brother's face at the expression sent them both into peals of laughter as Mycroft exited the room.
John was in the kitchen when the siblings emerged from Sherlock's room. "Coffee's up, love! Things quieted down and I thought you might need it," he called out.
"Oh my god yes. Yes, yes, yes. Is there a way to imbibe coffee intravenously?" Rose asked as she entered the kitchen.
"I'm not answering that question," John decided.
Rose gave him a smile. "Because it's ridiculous?"
"No; because I know you're serious!"
She laughed and fixed her coffee.
"How are you getting on, love? Were they awful?" John asked, looking her up and down. "Chest or anything else hurt?"
"Well, part of me obviously hurts, but I don't think that's what you're asking," Rose grumbled. "And in that case, the answer is no. I'm just not going to sit for the rest of my life. I'm horribly picked on."
"No, you're horribly behaved," John corrected with a smile as he pulled her into a hug. "Let me know if you need some arnica cream, alright? Aside from that, did you manage alright?"
Rose relaxed into his hug. "This is lovely, but I can't drink my coffee like this, and right now I want my coffee."
He chuckled and let her go after kissing the top of her head. John watched as she took her coffee into the sitting room and stood in the middle of the room. "That bad?"
"Oh yes, that bad. Trying to decide if I can properly drink my coffee while lying on my stomach on the couch. Might work, or I might burn myself," Rose explained.
"Is she going to bruise Sherlock?" John asked, giving his friend a look.
"Possibly. Didn't see any in the immediate aftermath," Sherlock said, commandeering John's laptop. He nearly dropped it when Rose made an attempt to position herself in John's comfy chair.
Rose tried to ease herself gently into the chair. It was so soft and comfortable; surely she could find a somewhat reasonable position in it and drink her coffee. That, unfortunately, turned out not to be the case. As she finally eased into the position, the contact with her bum caused her to howl and immediately stand up, spilling coffee everywhere. "Oh no! My coffee!" she whined, burst into tears. Rose put the cup down on the coffee table and reached back to rub her sore bottom.
Without a word John went up to his room and came back with the arnica cream. "On the couch, love. On your tummy, please." He shot Sherlock a dirty look.
"Don't give me that look John. Don't start. It was very well deserved and I was very careful," Sherlock replied, sounding a teensy bit defensive. "It's not much of a punishment if it doesn't hurt."
Rose moved over to the couch and lay on her stomach, trying to dry her face with her hands.
John sat down on the floor beside her and chuckled. "I can't put the cream on your bottom through your clothing," he pointed out. "Should I do it? I'll be gentle."
"Wait, what?" she asked. "No! We can't do this out here."
"Why ever not?" he asked, trying not to laugh too hard. "You look so outraged. You realize that it's just us here, Sherlock and me, and we've both seen your bare behind before."
"But there's something indecent about being half naked in a sitting room," Rose huffed.
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Now look at that. You've got some common sense and understanding of propriety. What happened with him?" John asked indicating Sherlock. "He walks around in that damn sheet of his without his pants all the time."
This time Rose giggled. "I'm aware of that. Modesty is an emotion, John. Sentiment. Which Sherlock doesn't recognize, so he has no problem with it."
"Shut up Rose," Sherlock grumbled.
"And while he might be fine with it, not everyone is. I'm used to it; he did that at home all the time. Mostly to annoy Mycroft," Rose continued. "When Louise showed up the other day for a chat, she was horribly embarrassed to see him prancing around in that sheet. I told her she best text next time she wants over."
"Rosenwyn Aramantha Holmes I do not prance! In sheets or otherwise!" Sherlock stated loudly.
"Sometimes you do in that poncy coat of yours," John told him, laughing loudly. When he calmed down he turned his attention back to Rose. "We could borrow Sherlock's room, if you're embarrassed."
She shook her head. "I suppose it doesn't matter much. Be so, so gentle, will you? It's terribly sore."
"Of course love." John kissed the top of her head before baring her bum with utmost care.
"You spoil her terribly John," Sherlock grumbled, not meaning a word of it.
John, completely ignoring him, let out a low whistle at the state of her bottom. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" he murmured. "I don't see any bruising, but I'll put the cream on. It'll make it feel better all around. Are you ready? I'll be as gentle as I can."
When she nodded, he carefully applied the arnica cream to her backside. "There we are," John said when he finished. He helped her ease her clothing up and then went to wash his hands and put the cream away.
By the time he returned, Rose was fast asleep on the couch. He leaned over to kiss her head and could practically feel Sherlock's eye rolling.
"You're a push over John."
"Sherlock Holmes, don't you even try and tell me that you're any less wrapped around her finger than I am!"