"Good morning, love," John greeted Rose. "Ready for a big day? Back to work and dance?"

Rose scowled and went right for the coffee maker.

"Not ready to talk yet. Got it," he chuckled.

Once she'd drunk half the coffee in the mug, Rose finally spoke. "Thank you, for breakfast. It's yummy. Omelets are my favorite. And for not allowing my non-morning person self to offend you."

John flashed her a smile. "Not a problem," he assured her. "I still like you, even when you refuse to talk to me right away in the morning. I know it's in the best interests of my own personal safety." She'd told him that, several times in the past, and he only half heartedly believed she could be that awful.

"Oh, it is," Rose assured him. "Trust me. Or ask Sherlock if you don't believe me. I'm a horrible morning person."

John joined her at the kitchen table with his own breakfast and a cup of coffee. "So, are you ready? Excited?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"No? You've got to be kidding. I thought for sure you'd be ready to go. You haven't left the flat in two weeks! And you've been itching to dance," he pointed out.

"I know. I admit I'm worried about the competition. It's just two weeks from today. Speaking of dance, will you be around tonight?"

"Yeah, why?"

"My feet are going to be awful again when I get home. The two week break won't have done them any good," Rose pointed out. "I'd like my doctor who fusses in a nice way over me to make them feel better."

John chuckled. "Of course. Though some socks while you practice would help."

"Completely unattractive," Rose said. "And strange." She fell silent, looking pensive as she continued to eat her omelet.

"What's wrong love?"

"I'm scared," Rose whispered. "To leave the building and interact with people. And just in general of being out there, all vulnerable."

He took her hands and gently tugged her out of her chair and pulled her onto his lap. "You can't hide forever," John said gently, wrapping his arms around her. "Life happens outside, you know? Just because one thing went wrong, terribly wrong in fact, doesn't mean only bad things will happen to you."

"But what if it does? I don't want to be a victim again," Rose whispered. "What if I leave and something bad happens to me?"

"What if you leave and nothing happens at all except an ordinary day?" John asked. "Do you really want to make yourself a prisoner here forever?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. I suppose if I do that, on some level then, he wins."

"That's very true. And I think you're over looking one very, very important thing to remember about that great wide world out there," John replied.

Rose frowned a bit in thought. "What's that?"

"Mycroft. Do you honestly think after this that he, or one of his minions, won't be watching your every move on CCTV? I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had you discreetly followed, too," he admitted.

"That… is somehow both disturbing and reassuring at the same time," she said quietly. "I like the thought that he won't let me be hurt again. But I'd also really like a bit of privacy as well. I mean, good god, what if I'm on a date and kiss said date and he sees it? That's all kinds of vulgar, don't you think?"

John threw his head back and laughed. "You do make an interesting point. I don't think Mycroft will listen to you, though, if you mount a protest. He's awfully protective of you. It's sweet, yet very, very odd."

She giggled. "I know, right? He makes people quake in their boots every single day and runs the greater part of the free world. No one would ever expect it! He's changed, you know."

"Has he?"

"Yes. He's changed from how he was when I went off, and even from how he was when I first came back," Rose mused. "There was a time before I left when I wasn't certain if he really cared beyond whether or not what I was doing would reflect badly on him. I wasn't angelic by any means, but I wasn't completely awful either."

"I'm sure you weren't any worse than any other teenager that's ever existed," John said. "It's very clear you love them both and that they love you."

Rose smiled. "I do. Very much. Gotten rather attached to you, too, you know."

"Same here," John assured her. "Even when you refuse to speak to me before you have your morning coffee."

"Well if you weren't such a blasted sunshiny and happy morning person," she grumbled, but her eyes twinkled. "Thanks for the pep talk John. And for everything you do, truly." Rose kissed his cheek before getting up, smiling as he blushed a bit.

"I've got to get ready. Wouldn't do to be late my first day back," she told him. "I'll pop in and say goodbye before I take off."

"I'll walk to you to the station," John offered. "Ready when you are. Not babying you, mind. Just being a gentleman."

Rose gave him a bright smile. "I'd like that." After taking one last swig of her coffee, she hurried back to her own flat to get ready.

There it was; the coffee shop. That was where it had all began. She'd met Mark, she'd been friendly, and he'd acted like such a gentleman. And then, he'd stalked her and tried to kill her. She wanted to go inside, so very badly. To be brave and hold her head high, get her drink and one for Lestrade and act as if everything was alright.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Rose jumped and whirled around, the rising panic in her stomach disappearing as soon as she saw Lestrade. "Greg, don't scare me like that!" she scolded. "I was really frightened for a minute."

"Sorry," he replied, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought you might like some company this morning while you get coffee. I was worried."

"I'd love some company. I'm not feeling very brave right now," Rose admitted quietly.

"That's to be expected, and there's nothing wrong with that. We've got counselors, if you're interested," Lestrade told her. "But that's a conversation for another time, if you want to have it. For now, let's go in, yeah?" He offered her his arm.

Rose linked her arm through his and they started off across the street to the coffee shop. "So, was this your idea or John's? Or did you two conspire together?"

"I had thought about it, but didn't want you to think I was trying to be your minder. But John did text and that settled the issue for me," Lestrade admitted.

"There are moments where he's worse than my brothers, truly," Rose laughed. "And I'm always torn between wanting to tell him off and just feeling pleased about it."

Lestrade held the door open for her and Rose took a deep breath before walking inside. It all looked the same, so very, very normal, and that really helped her feel better. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"Rose! I'm so glad you're out and about!" Louise hurried away from the counter and hugged her friend tightly.

Rose returned the hug, pasting a smile on her face. "It feels weird," she whispered. "But I'm glad I came in, even if I couldn't quite manage it on my own."

"You coming back to dance tonight, too? Everyone will be so thrilled to see you. They hound me for updates constantly," Louise admitted.

"Yeah, I'll be back, to teach and practice myself. Alfred and I have loads of work to do. But before that, Greg and I need our coffee so we can get back to work, though I'd much rather stay and chat all day." Rose looked over at Lestrade and shrugged her shoulders, saying, "Sorry."

Lestrade waved her off. "Her drinks are on me today, Louise. Don't take any of her money."

"You're ridiculous, Greg. Don't listen to him," Rose laughed.

"Hush," Louise told her. "I'll have both of your drinks ready in a moment. Up to the register please, Detective Inspector."

With drinks in hand, Rose and Lestrade took the lift up to his division at NSY. "Don't let me overwork you today. If you need to leave early, or take a rest, you will do so. Understand?"

"Such bossy men in my life," Rose grumbled. "But yes, I understand. And I thank you. I'm fine though. John wouldn't have let me leave if I wasn't."

"Good girl," Lestrade said, giving her a wink.

They exited the lift and were greeted by a round of applause from the officers that took Rose by surprise. She shrank back a little, her eyes going wide. "Why are they so excited? We didn't bring them coffee. I don't understand."

"They're happy you're here. Alive and well," he told her. "Alright, alright! Enough of that, back to work!" Lestrade called out. "You're embarrassing her. Settle!"

Rose smiled and waved awkwardly back at everyone.

"In my office miss," Lestrade said with a smile. "Loads of work for you to do. It's been dreadful without your help, seriously. I've only just barely managed."

She rolled her eyes. "Liar. Lead the way, boss."

Lestrade gave her a curious look. "You've never called me boss before."

"Well, it seemed fitting just then," Rose laughed. "Don't get all excited about it, especially since I don't actually work for you."

"You could, you know. We've talked about it before."

"Don't let Mycroft know you've made that offer. He'd jump on it on my behalf in a second so he could stop helping me with my rent," she admitted.

"So it's settled then?" Lestrade asked with a grin. "You'll stay on and get paid when your hours are up. It can be your Christmas present to Mycroft."

"He hates Christmas."

"All the more reason then, it'll annoy him."

Rose threw back her head and laughed. "Alright fine! But probably not full time or Mycroft will get his hopes up that I'll get over the professional dance career idea. We'll worry about hours and money later on. I still owe you some sixty hours I think."

"Forty-six," Lestrade corrected. "And there's plenty of time to work out the finer details of employment later on."

Four hours later, Rose nearly jumped out of her chair when her mobile rang. It never rang, because no one ever called her. Everyone knew she hated talking on her mobile. She looked down at it and didn't recognize the number, but she answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Rose? Is this Rose Holmes?" a male voice asked.

"It is. Who is this?" Rose tried to fight the feelings of panic that were settling in.

"It's Owen North. Sergeant Owen North."

"Sergeant O-. Oh! From the military ball, I remember now," Rose admitted with a smile. "That seems like such a long time ago. How are you?"

"I'm quite well, thank you. I've been out of town for a while and just got back. I heard… I heard what happened and wanted to check that you were alright," Owen admitted.

Rose took a deep breath. "As alright as I'll ever be I think. That was sweet of you to call."

"I had another reason, too. I was wondering if you might… Well… Er. If you'd consider having a drink with me sometime. Any drink at all anywhere you'd like."

She smiled. "You sound so horribly nervous Owen and you shouldn't," she said quietly. "I think I'd like that. Can it be someplace close to home? My home I mean."

"Yes! Yes, anywhere is just fine. When are you free?"

"Well, I've got to think on that. Not putting you off, but I've just gotten back to work and have loads to do. How about Friday evening? There's a little café by my house, on Baker Street. Should we say six?"

"Sounds just fine." Owen paused to write down the name when she gave it to him.

"It's not a fancy place," Rose warned him.

"I understand if you want to stay close to home," Owen assured her. "After… after everything. I don't take it as an insult. It just means I need to earn your trust."

"When you put it like that it sounds awful," Rose admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's perfectly alright. I'll see you Friday."

"See you Friday at six. I should go, my boss is glaring at me," Rose said with a little laugh. They said their goodbyes and she hung up her mobile.

Lestrade was not, in fact, glaring at her but he was watching her with a confused look on his face. When he saw her looking over at him, he waved his hand, summoning her into his office.

Rose dutifully got up and entered his office. "I think I'm an idiot," she announced, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"I wouldn't say that. What makes you think so?" he asked, frowning.

"I just agreed to meet a man I met at the military ball for coffee on Friday. Considering my recent track record, I think I'm an idiot."

"You didn't date him," Lestrade pointed out, meaning Mark.

"But I would have had he asked me," Rose admitted. "And I don't know why I'm even telling you this. Sorry, you're just sort of here." She shrugged a bit, looking embarrassed. "I can't just hide away forever. I've got to live my life, right? Just nod at me, even if I'm wrong, so I'll feel better. And again, sorry I'm doing this. Completely embarrassed right now." Her face went red and she shifted a bit in her seat.

Lestrade merely chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Want me to run his name?"

"Would you? Really? If I ask Mycroft there's a good chance the poor fellow would be abducted off the street never to be seen again," Rose said in all seriousness.

"Write it down and I'll let you know before you leave," Lestrade promised. "Now back to work with you." He sent her on her way with a smile and immediately began running the name through all the usual databases.

"He's clean as a whistle," Lestrade told her before she headed out for the day.

"That's a relief," Rose admitted, buttoning her coat up. "Don't say anything to anyone, will you? Seriously, my brothers will be a nightmare if they find out."

"I won't say a word. Do you need a lift somewhere?"

"To the studio if it won't be a bother. I can always ask Mycroft to send a car."

Lestrade shook his head and asked one of the officers to take her. "See you tomorrow then. Want to meet at the coffee shop again?"

Rose gave him a smile. "I think I'll try to be brave on my own tomorrow. But I'll let you know if that changes." With a little wave, she headed towards the lift and was soon on her way to the studio.

"John's mad at you, you know," Rose said by way of greeting Alfred. "I'd steer clear for a bit, he'll give you a lecture the next time he sees you. Thinks you're a bad influence."

"Oh, that's rich," Alfred laughed good-naturedly. "Maybe you're the bad influence on me!"

"That's the more likely answer, to be honest," Rose laughed. "And I could have said no, but I didn't." She sat on a chair and put on her heels. "Two weeks, Alfred. Two weeks from tonight, we compete. Are we going to be ready?"

"I think so. We're good! We're well matched, you and I, the choreography is tight, timing and musicality spot on. I'm sure about us. Are you?"

"I hope my stamina is up for it is all. For all my whining about resting, I know John was- is- right. I have to be careful. But, if my stamina can take it and I haven't gotten too rusty since we last practiced, I think we're golden," Rose told him.

She got up from the chair and approached him, smiling brightly. "Feels good to be back in here. Now, proper frame! Let's be impressive!"

At precisely eleven that night, Mycroft Holmes was sitting in his car waiting for Rose to come out of her dance studio. Only a moment or two passed before someone came out but it wasn't Rose.

"Hello Mr. Holmes," Louise greeted him, opening the car door.

"Louise. You can call me Mycroft now, if you'd like," he offered, frowning slightly.

"Thanks. It'd be weird though," she decided. "Anyway, Alfred is going to bring Rose out in a minute."

"Bring her out? As in not on her own power will she be exiting?"

Louise nodded. "Yeah. Rough practice."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and got out of the car, only to see Alfred carrying out a protesting Rose. "Can you really not go anywhere without bringing trouble with you Rose?" he asked, scowling at her.

"Apparently not. I'm fine, I can walk!"

"No, she can't," Alfred said firmly. "Her feet are really hurting her. It's been too long and she worked too hard."

"Don't give him incentive to continue scolding Alfred," Rose begged. "He'll be insufferable."

"Oh for god's sake, just put her in the car," Mycroft said with a sigh before getting back in on the driver's side.

Rose was deposited inside the vehicle and buckled herself in for the trip to Baker Street. "I'm fine. My feet just aren't used to dancing so hard for so long. Two weeks break will do that."

"It must be more than that if your dance partner felt compelled to carry you out of the building, sister dear," Mycroft stated.

She let out an exaggerated sigh. "Hate you, My."

"Please refrain from outbursts of sentiment Rose, it's alarming."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

John and Sherlock shared a look at the sound of raised voices downstairs. A moment later, Mycroft entered the flat carrying Rose in his arms.

"He's an idiot, I'm fine."

"Shut up Rose," Mycroft growled, dropping her onto the couch none too gently. He rolled his eyes when that made her laugh and then disappeared from the flat.

"What was that?" John asked, laughing.

"My feet are in rough shape, as I suspected they would be. Alfred wouldn't let me walk out to the car and Mycroft wouldn't let me walk up here," Rose explained. "They are painful though."

"Still refusing to wear socks?" Sherlock asked.

"Shut up," she grumbled.

"Let me get my kit and I'll take a look."

As John headed up to his room for the kit, Rose began carefully unlacing her sneakers and easing them off her feet, wincing as she did so.

"Is that blood on your socks? Are your feet bleeding?" John asked, sitting down on the floor by her feet.

"Very good John, your deduction skills are improving," Sherlock quipped.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Yes and yes. I'm not entirely sure how it happened. Probably some blisters popped and rubbed the skin raw. I didn't even notice right away, I was working too hard."

"You're so mean to yourself, love," John replied, shaking his head. "I'll disinfect them and bandage them up until morning. Socks, Rosenwyn Holmes, socks. You have them; you will wear them for the next two days. And if you tell me no, I will show up at the studio and make sure you've got them on. Do you hear me?"

Sherlock chuckled. "First and last name Rose. The good doctor means business!"

"He always means business," Rose retorted. "No need to fuss at me so much. I'll wear them tomorrow and the next day. I promise. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I actually do care about my feet and sort of need them, being a dancer and all."

John sat there for several seconds. "Well what do you know? I can't even believe it. Is this really happening Sherlock? Is she actually agreeing to something I say?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Be quiet, you. I'm not always contrary you know."

"Could have fooled me," Sherlock added.

John ignored his flat mate and gave Rose a grin.

"And before you ask, I drank lots and lots of water and had my snacks," she added.

"That's my good girl," John said, grinning again.

"Sherlock, can you step out for a minute? I need to talk to John," Rose said suddenly.

"What? Why? This is my flat you know."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but I'm in here already and John's doctoring my feet. I need to ask him something as a doctor," Rose tried to explain.

"Why? What else is wrong with you now?" Sherlock demanded.

"Oh for heaven's sake, I need to talk to him about woman issues Sherlock! I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you!"

Sherlock looked absolutely horrified and practically ran out of the flat, dressing gown billowing behind him as he exited.

"I'm just a GP Rose," John pointed out quietly. "I can refer you to someone at surgery if you'd like."

"No, I didn't really mean what I said, but Sherlock wasn't going to leave and that always makes him run off. I need a favor."

"Oh. What sort of favor?"

"I'm having coffee with someone on Friday at the café. A male someone, that I met at the military ball. I'd really appreciate it if you could keep Sherlock away from here, or at least distract him somewhat, because he's ridiculous when it comes to me and boys," Rose admitted. "He and Mycroft both."

John looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm proud of you, Rose. Really, I am. I don't know if I'd agree to meet with someone so soon after what you went through. I can't promise to keep Sherlock away, but I'll do my best. Now, more importantly, what do you know about him?"

"Clean as a whistle. I had Lestrade check for me."

"Good. Well, I hope it goes well. You could do with some fun and happiness, I think."

"I'm not unhappy, you know," Rose said quietly.

"Oh, I know. You smile and laugh too much for me to think otherwise. And I know you well enough that I know when you don't mean it," John reassured her. "But it would be nice for you to find someone to date, someone your age that treats you properly."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Coffee is just coffee," she told him firmly. "But I really would like to keep my brothers as far out of the loop as is possible. I'd rather not have him frightened away before I decide if I want more than coffee."

John nodded and then called for Sherlock to come back in and watched with amusement as his best friend entered and looked at them both through narrowed eyes.

"She alright?"

"Yes, yes, she's just fine Sherlock. Some things are just delicate and not for a brother's ears," John said seriously. "She's right as rain, other than her feet. But they'll be alright too."

Sherlock scrutinized John for a moment longer before he nodded and sat back down in his chair. "Good. Good to hear. Nothing I should be aware of?"

"I know that's not a serious question Sherlock, so I won't answer it," Rose laughed. "Your concern is very touching."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Insufferable brat."

"Love you too," Rose replied.