'Our sister hit me. SH'

'So I've heard. Knowing you, it was well deserved. M'

'Did she come home? SH'

'She's there and I will be joining her shortly. M'

'She's quite put out with me. SH'

'I don't think she's ever been this angry with me. I don't like it. SH'

'I'll see what I can do to sort it out. In the meantime, try practicing an apology. M'

'I like it so much better when you're the mean brother. SH'

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft decided not to respond.

Mycroft got home just after nine and was greeted by the smell of something absolutely delicious coming from the kitchen. It was unlike his cook to be making anything this time of night. Usually he wound up with leftovers of what had been made earlier. That was what he got for being a workaholic, he supposed. Not that he had all that much choice in the matter.

But it was not Cook in the kitchen, much to his surprise. It was Rose, who'd already set the table and appeared to be putting the final touches on their meal. "Sherlock wasn't exaggerating," he murmured. "That's a first."

Rose gave him a smile. "I gave Cook the night off. Hope that's alright. I figured as long as you were fed it wasn't a big deal."

"Where did you learn to cook? You were hardly able to make tea not all that long ago."

She frowned this time. "That's a bit of an exaggeration, My. I learned while I was away. Started as a server and moved into the kitchen when they needed extra hands and then was cooking regularly. I found I really enjoyed it. It's sort of relaxing and there's a good reward at the end."

Mycroft chuckled. "And where was this at?"

"Luxembourg mostly. I stayed there the longest, I didn't think anyone would bother looking for me there," Rose admitted. "But I worked in a restaurant in Geneva as well. I was there for a few months. Switzerland's a lovely place."

"It is," Mycroft agreed. "And I was there once, while you were away. You have no idea how happy I would have been to find you in a kitchen then."

"And taken me straight home before I was ready to come back on my own," Rose said. "We needed space, you and I. A lot of it, and the break was helpful in… reexamining things, shall we say. I came to discover a lot of things about myself and my family and what I wanted in life."

"What made you come back then?" He hadn't asked her before, and in fact hadn't asked her much at all about her time adventuring, mostly because Mycroft was afraid to hear her confirm that he had been the one to drive her away.

"I was lonely. I got lonely every so often," she admitted, placing dishes on the table. "But when I started getting lonely on a regular basis and it wouldn't go away, I knew it was time. For all my complaining, and the disappearing act, I never stopped loving you both. I hope you know that."

Mycroft nodded, confirming he did. "I'm certain I aged ten years while you were away. I looked everywhere for you, desperately. I felt so… frightened and guilty. I knew I was the one that had driven you away. Mother would have been so disappointed, that our family had come apart like that. She was always very family oriented and sentimental about all of us loving one another properly."

Rose sat in a chair and indicated he should do the same. She was surprised to hear him speak of their mother, because he so very rarely did. Of all of them, Rose knew their mother's death had hit Mycroft hardest of all, leaving him with an erratic brother to keep track of and a little girl to finish bringing up all on his own. Keeping those feelings compartmentalized had been his way of dealing with her passing; and life in general for that matter.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, and sat down, gesturing that she should dish her plate up first.

"Would she be proud of me, do you think? I'd like to think she would be, but I honestly don't know. Every year that goes by… more of her fades. I can't remember what her voice sounded like anymore, or the way her favorite perfume smelled."

Rose watched as something flickered across Mycroft's face, too quickly for her to get a handle on what it was. He took a deep breath before answering.

"I very much believe she would be. You're so very like her, you know. I see it so often in many little things you do," Mycroft admitted. "I believe she would be very proud of you. You're a good person and that's what she wanted for us most of all, to be good people, and to love one another. And on that score, I know you far surpass Sherlock and myself."

"You're not as icy as you make yourself out to be. Anyone who really knows you can see that. I've never not felt loved, even before I went away. I felt smothered in addition to being loved, but I've always felt loved and safe, My. I think that would make Mum very happy to know," Rose said quietly.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "You sound so grown up when you say things like that. Please stop, it makes me feel incredibly old."

Rose giggled. "Sort of inevitable, My. Sorry."

"So what happened today with Sherlock? It must have been something significant for you to come back here."

"Well where else would I go?" Rose laughed.

"Louise's, for one."

She rolled her eyes. "He's our brother. I need you to help me sort him out. It was really bad, honestly. Bobby Sanders all over again, except the fist was substituted with a pot of hot coffee. It was one date, not even a really official one, just a get to know you thing. He held my hand and then Sherlock went off the deep end. Then I lost my temper, we fought, I slapped his face, he made inappropriate comments, and I left."

It pleased Mycroft to no end that she came home after having it out with Sherlock, but he did his best not to seem too excited by that fact. "He's always been terribly protective of you," he admitted. "Rather unreasonably so at times. Though not at first. Sherlock had the most horrible habit of letting you out when you were a toddler, assuming that just because you were smart that you knew everything and didn't need to be watched."

Rose frowned. "Let me out? Like you let a dog out?"

Mycroft nodded. "I'd ask where you were and he'd say, "Oh, I let her outside to play." And you were just two. He was rather slow in coming to understand that was a very poor choice, though Mother did try to make it clear to him. I'd finally had it after the third time and drug him into my study for a hiding. Never happened again after that."

She laughed long and hard. "Poor Sherlock! Although not really, everyone should know you don't put a baby outside, no matter how smart they are!"

"He was convinced from the moment that you were born that you were the most brilliant child the world had ever seen. He came running into my study one day telling me you knew how to read; you were six months old. Mother found it absolutely endearing, although not the putting you outside part."

"I know he's worried about me," Rose admitted. "Especially after all the recent happenings, but he has to understand that he can't just put up a wall around me and keep every man on the planet from coming near me. Someday I'd like to meet a really nice fellow, get married and have babies."

Mycroft choked on the pasta he'd been attempting to chew, resorting to water to force it down, looking as if he might become ill. "Do not say things like that."

"Like what?"

"You… and babies. Please don't ever say that to me again," Mycroft pleaded in earnest.

"You're ridiculous, but I'll try to refrain from traumatizing you. You'd make a very good uncle though," Rose offered. When he gave her a dark look in response, she put up her hands in surrender. "Okay, I won't say a word on the matter for a while. Though, since we're on the topic, why don't you have someone? A wife and little ones."

"You honestly think I wanted children after raising you and Sherlock? God no!"

"Well you don't have to be so emphatic about it," Rose scowled. "That's rather insulting. I'd like to think I wasn't that bad."

"Sherlock was much worse," he admitted. "And significantly less sweet than you."

"My, how are we going to fix this?" she asked, turning the conversation back to the matter at hand. "I don't know how to fix it. I don't want Sherlock to injure or maim every person of the male sex that I come into contact with. That's never going to work. At least you sort of discretely keep an eye on things."

"No matter how old you are Rose, you will never understand the way a brother feels about his little sister. Sherlock, despite his idiocy, has your best interests at heart. The last thing he wants is for your heart to be broken by someone. This is his way of preventing it," Mycroft tried to explain.

"I'll speak with him about it, see if we can't come to some sort of agreement of appropriate ways to protect you," he offered. "I truly don't think he desires you to be a spinster, but I don't think he sees that correlation between him frightening away boys and you being completely alone in your old age."

Rose nodded, acknowledging that Mycroft's thoughts made sense. "Being married to my work isn't something I want to do. It might work just fine for you and Sherlock, but it wouldn't work for me. I want to be a professional dancer for as long as I'm able, don't get me wrong on that score," she hurriedly added. "However, there's more to life than work for me. I want all the rest of it, too and I'm determined to have it both ways."

"God help anyone that stands in your way when you're determined," Mycroft teased.

She rolled her eyes but otherwise didn't respond. "Don't forget to tell Sherlock when you speak with him that if I'm not allowed to have tantrums, neither is he! Because that was one seriously epic stroppy tantrum."

"And you'd know, wouldn't you?" The look on her face gave Mycroft a good laugh.

'Well done Sherlock. You'll turn her into a spinster yet. M'

'That is not my intention. SH'

'Isn't it? I beg to differ. M'

'Besides, I'm the one that overreacts, as you so often remind me. M'

Several minutes passed without a response and Mycroft rolled his eyes before sending another text. 'My club, noon tomorrow. M'

'Fine. SH'

Mycroft looked up when there was a knock on the door of his study. "Come in."

Rose opened the door far enough to peek inside the room. "Is it alright if I read in here? I won't disturb you if you're working, I promise. And we could have some after dinner wine or something. Your cellar is rather impressive. I was going to pop a bottle open earlier but I really don't know anything about wine to be honest."

Mycroft frowned; for some reason the idea of his baby sister drinking liquor was upsetting. "Should I go take inventory?"

"No," she told him, rolling her eyes. "Or no wine, or whatever response will make you stop frowning."

He waved her into the room. "You can read in here if you wish, though I may have to send you out if I need to make a call. How long are you staying, by the way?"

"Until you become completely obnoxious and Sherlock is the lesser of two evils," she replied, giving him a grin. Rose left the door open and crossed the room to curl up on the couch.

"Or in other words I shouldn't take this as a sign you'd like to move back home?" Mycroft inquired.

"Brother dear, you are absolutely relentless. Will you never stop trying to talk me into moving back here?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't worry as much about you if you're here when I can see you."

Rose snorted. "That's a rather absurd statement My. You are the government; you can actually see me just about anywhere at all on CCTV whenever you feel like it. I also wouldn't be surprised if there are cameras in my bloody flat."

"Language," Mycroft scolded.

"Hmm. No comment on the camera accusation. Clearly I'll need to search my flat when I decide to wander back to Baker Street," Rose mused.

"Minding you is a full time occupation, my dear. I've said that since the very day you were born," Mycroft replied. "What I really need to do is hire someone to watch you on CCTV every minute of the day."

"That's not funny," Rose said firmly, scowling at him. "Not funny at all. I'd like to still pretend I have a little bit of privacy."

"Everyone wants to pretend they still have a little bit of privacy," he countered. "And that's just what it is: pretend."

Rose stuck her tongue out at him and flopped back onto the sofa before opening her book.

"You're never going to outgrow that, are you?"

"Not until you cease to be utterly annoying in every possible way, brother mine."

Mycroft frowned a bit. "What did you select to read?"

"One of my favorites, Jules Verne," Rose replied as she opened the book.

"That better not be my first edition of Around the World in 80 Days or I will skin you alive, Rosenwyn Holmes," Mycroft warned in all sincerity.

"Books in the glass case are not to be touched or played with at any time for any reason whatsoever," she said, doing her best to mimic him. "That was a particularly memorable lesson Mycroft, I must say, all teasing aside."

"Hmph. Well I would certainly hope so! After all, that was rather the point."

"It was really all your fault though. You should have been smarter and kept it locked," she challenged.

"As if Sherlock wouldn't have picked it for you anyway," he retorted. "Now be quiet and let me work, you disrespectful little brat."

"Mmhm, love you too, brother dear," Rose responded. When he groaned, she gave him a look of feigned innocence before burying her nose in the book.

Oh how Sherlock hated it when Mycroft looked so smug! And today he looked especially smug when Sherlock was shown into Mycroft's office at the Diogenes Club.

"Let's make this short, shall we?" Mycroft asked, indicating that Sherlock should sit down.

"If you've summoned me here to gloat because I'm now the mean brother, I'd prefer to just leave," Sherlock stated in a defensive tone.

"I am only going to say this once, brother mine, so do listen closely and carefully," Mycroft warned. "Learn from my mistakes, Sherlock. Yes, I did just admit that and I'll never do so again. Your behavior yesterday is reminiscent of my own, though admittedly I never scalded anyone. But I tried too hard to protect her, and to control her, because I felt she was incapable of making appropriate choices for herself. I drove her away, Sherlock. I know I did, and I understand that now. If you ask her, she'll confirm it, albeit reluctantly. For some reason she feels compelled to not put it so bluntly and spare my feelings, but she has expressed as much."

Sherlock was, to put it mildly, shocked at Mycroft's words. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard Mycroft admit he'd made a mistake. Additionally, he'd never heard his oldest brother acknowledge that he was responsible for creating the circumstances that made Rose want to disappear.

"As you so love to point out," Mycroft continued. "She's not like us. We're… well if not content, we're at least resigned to the fact that we're married to our work. Rose really is, by far, the most normal of the three of us. She wants normal things: a home, a family, a life with all sorts of emotional entanglements and curly haired children to bring up."

"That… I can't begin to think on that. The baby having babies." Sherlock shuddered a bit.

"Trust me, I understand the horror of that thought very well," Mycroft commiserated. "For you and I, she's still the little girl who was afraid of monsters under the bed, wanted to be rocked when her ear ached, and begged for just one more story every night."

Sherlock nodded. "In this respect, with her, we're very normal Mycroft. We'll never stop seeing her that way. But, she isn't anymore."

"She isn't," Mycroft agreed. "She still requires guidance and a firm hand when the occasion calls for it, but we will only make her unhappy if we try to keep her that little girl, or, in your case, try to make her a spinster."

"God how I hate it when you're right. Ruins my entire day," Sherlock grumbled, looking particularly sulky. "I will always intervene if she's in danger. However, I will endeavor to restrain myself from shielding her from the world."

Mycroft paused, his glass of brandy halfway to his mouth. "Did we really just agree on something?" he asked. "That never happens."

"Shakes one's world, I know," Sherlock agreed. "Mother would be proud."

"Do you know what Mother would really say?"

A quirked eyebrow was Sherlock's only response.

"She'd ask us if we were looking for Rose to convert to Catholicism and enter a nunnery. And if the answer was no, we'd best let her get on with life," Mycroft said with a sad smile. "Even if that was our goal, Rose would make a horrible nun. She's far too rebellious and opinionated."

Sherlock frowned for several seconds before laughing. "You know, I think you're right. That's precisely what Mother would have said. She could be really wise sometimes. And I agree, Rose would make a horrible nun," he said with a chuckle.

"God only knows, given how wise she could be, what Mother was thinking asking us to look after Rose before she died," Mycroft countered. "We're rubbish at it."

"She turned out alright. More than alright, in fact, considering she had us for co-parents for most of her life," Sherlock snorted.

The corners of Mycroft's mouth turned up just a bit. "She did," he agreed. "The only question is: was that because of us or in spite of us?"

"Let's not think on that too hard," Sherlock decided.

"Quite right," Mycroft said with a nod. "Well, I'm done with you, so please vacate my club, brother mine."

Louise was more than a little surprised when John appeared at the dance studio. "You, Dr. Watson, are a very brave man indeed."

"Yeah, bravery is one word for it," he admitted with a grimace. "Stupidity might also apply. Is she really still that angry?"

"At Sherlock, definitely," Louise confirmed. "At you, not as much. I see you've brought a peace offering though, so that should help your cause a bit. She's still working with Alfred but I think they're nearly done. Or they really should be. Rose works herself so hard; too hard."

John could tell Louise was worried and immediately became concerned. "Please tell me she's been eating and drinking properly."

"She has, but they've also been dancing almost non-stop for a bit over seven hours," she explained. "Trying to make up for time lost during her recovery I imagine. Or just Rose being Rose. She's like Mycroft in that way- a perfectionist."

John smiled. "The two of you go way back, don't you?"

"Since we were three. Started here together in classes, ended up at the same schools, though Rose jumped ahead of me a few years, twice I think, but we stayed close," Louise explained. "Been through thick and thin! I still call Mycroft "Mr. Holmes" to his face, because otherwise it's awkward," she laughed.

"That is a really awkward point in life, where you're an adult and suddenly people you were told to call Mr. and Mrs. say "Oh no, it's Sally now!" Takes ages to actually get around to calling a person Sally, or Mycroft in your case," John replied.

"Precisely! Smart man you are. Take good care of her, will you? She listens to you; don't let her work herself half to death. I just get a smile and a hug for my troubles."

"I don't know how well she listens to me to be perfectly honest," John admitted. "But I keep saying it all the same. She's a stubborn thing. Lovely girl, no doubt about that, but she's as stubborn as the day is long. She's more like her brothers than they are willing to admit."

Louise gave him a knowing smile, as if she knew something he didn't, but he didn't press her to find out what that might be.

Just then one of the studio doors opened and Rose came around the corner. "Why are you—Ooh, are those cupcakes?!" she squealed. "I want so very much to be displeased with you John, but I can't be if those are actually cupcakes in that box."

Louise snorted. "You and your cupcakes! They'd be your main food group if you could get away with it!"

"Don't think they aren't either, and don't frown at me, John Watson," Rose warned. "You aren't forgiven yet, cupcakes aside. And don't think for even a second I'm sharing those with you, or having another cupcake war. Mine, mine, mine."

"She's mean when you interfere with her cupcakes," Louise warned with a giggle. "Hand one over."

"What makes you think you get one?" Rose retorted, holding the box possessively.

Louise snorted. "Gee, I don't know, I've just put up with you for nearly seventeen bloody years. Nothing much."

Rose stuck her tongue out at her, but allowed Louise to have one of the cupcakes. "Alright, so I've got cupcakes, what else do you have? This is an excellent peace offering."

John just smiled patiently, happy to see Rose having fun. "An apology, but I'd like to discuss it elsewhere," he admitted. "You missed out on a dinner last night, but if you let me I'll take you out for one now."

"If she says no, I'll go!" Louise volunteered. "Me, me, me! I never get dinner out!"

"Lies, don't listen to her," Rose instructed. "My dinner, you get your own." She winked at Louise before practically shoving John out the door. "I agree to your plan, provided we go back home so I can shower and change. Meaning home home, not Baker Street."

"How long are you staying with Mycroft?" John asked as he hailed a cab.

"Not too long or My will really think I mean to stay and that would not go well. Seriously, I love my brother so much more when I don't live with him. If he was honest with himself, Mycroft would realize he's happy to let Sherlock be the mean brother," Rose admitted.

An hour later Rose was showered, dressed, and they were waiting for food at a café near Mycroft's house. "So he drugged you? Seriously?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"He did. I should have known something funny was going on when he offered me tea," John admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed about the whole thing.

"He's an idiot," Rose decided, rolling her eyes. "He did that with Mycroft a few times and then Mycroft pulled Sherlock into his office- well, dragged him really, and then Sherlock never did that again. You should ask Mycroft what he did and do the same," she suggested.

John chuckled. "We'll sort it out. Probably not the first time, probably not the last either. That's just the adventure of being flat mates with Sherlock Holmes."

Rose's phone chirped and she looked at the text. "Speak of the devil. He's been sending me really weird texts the last few hours."

John took the phone when she offered it to take a look. "I'm sorry and I don't want you to enter a nunnery," he read. "That is strange, even for Sherlock."

"I suppose I'll have to actually respond sometime, but I'm still mad," Rose admitted. "He can't do that sort of thing or I'll end up a crazy old cat lady with rooms and rooms full of books and be all alone, just me, the cats and the books."

"You know it's because he loves you right?"

Rose nodded. "I do. So what was your excuse?"

"I was hoping to keep him from doing anything drastic. Failed, obviously, but that was why I was in there. I thought if I was watching and looking very disapproving about the whole thing, that he might be discouraged."

"Well that was silly," she giggled. "Oh well, clearly Owen wasn't the one. Whoever I marry some day, provided Sherlock doesn't ruin every date I ever have, will have to love my insane brother, too. Or love me enough to put up with my insane brother."

Their food arrived and for a few moments there was silence as they ate. Rose finally broke it by asking, "Are you coming to my competition next Monday? A week from this Monday I mean. It'll be practically all day, but I'd love for you to be there. Sherlock said he'll come and Mycroft I'm hoping will come but who knows?"

"Of course! I took that day off from surgery weeks ago," John told her with a smile. "Wouldn't miss it. Are you excited? Nervous?"

"Both. More nervous though," she admitted quietly. "What if we don't do well? Mycroft will never let me hear the end of it. This can either go brilliantly or be a complete disaster."

"Give yourself a bit more credit than that. Even if you don't make first place, that's not the end of the world. Placing at all is a great way to start out your career and you're a bloody fantastic dancer," John said firmly. "You'll place and it won't be down in the lower ends either and everyone will be buzzing about wondering who this new dancing star is."

Rose rewarded his encouraging words with a smile and a blush.

"I really am sorry for everything that happened yesterday," John continued. "I wasn't entirely certain what to do: run in there and break up your date myself by alerting you that your brother was on the war path, wait and see what happened, or try and discreetly disapprove enough that Sherlock stopped to think on it."

"None of them would have been great honestly," Rose admitted. "But I forgive you. I put you in a bad spot and Sherlock put you in another one. Things were bound to go badly; I should have just been honest with him. Anyway, you're more than forgiven. Who can refuse to forgive a man who brings cupcakes to say sorry? Not this girl, I can tell you that." She gave him a grin.

"What are you going to do about Sherlock? That was a nasty row."

She nodded her agreement. "It was. Mycroft is going to try and sort him out, which I hope will work, but I won't get my hopes up. I'm certain I'll be back at Baker Street soon. Miss me yet?"

John chuckled and nodded. "I do, the flat is too quiet without you around and we were really hungry last night. Had to get takeaway and it was awful," he teased.

"I see, you miss my food and not me," Rose laughed. "We're crazy, the lot of us, you know that? You, Sherlock and I. Wouldn't trade it for the world though, even if you do just keep me around for my cooking!"

Rose returned to Mycroft's after finishing her dinner with John around half past nine that evening. She could hear Mycroft in his office shouting at someone. He was shouting in English but as soon as she came in he immediately began shouting in another language. Czech? Slovene? Slovak?

She paused long enough to catch a bit and decided it was Czech before going directly upstairs. People who didn't want to sign agreements weren't her domain after all and Mycroft would hardly thank her for eavesdropping! Besides, Rose had been dying to take a bubble bath in that beautiful claw foot tub! She entered her old room, hoping to find a bathrobe she'd left behind, but when she flipped on the light, she let out a scream.

There was Sherlock, sitting on her bed.

"Sherlock, my god! You scared me, that's not funny!" Rose shouted at him.

"You've been ignoring me." It was said with that distinct sort of half pout half sulk tone that Sherlock had been perfecting for as long as she could remember.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I have been, mostly because I've been confused as hell at all these texts. You're sorry and don't want me to be a nun? I don't have a clue what you're on about so I wasn't going to get into it with you. When you started making sense, then I would have responded."

He nodded and- could it be? - almost looked sheepish. "I'm sorry," Sherlock said quietly. "For overreacting and ruining your date. Despite all appearances to the contrary, I don't want you to be alone if that's not what you want for yourself."

Rose wanted to continue being angry with him, but she knew sincerity when she heard it, and a heartfelt apology when she heard one as well. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Sherlock scowled. "I just want you to be with someone who deserves you, Rose, and not waste your time people that aren't worthy of it to begin with. However, I can't interfere and chase away everyone, and you have no idea how difficult that will be for me. Especially after… recently."

Though he'd never spoken of it, the fact that he hadn't deduced Rose was in danger and been able to protect her weighed heavily on his mind. Despite his best efforts, Sherlock had not been able to delete the images of her on the pavement, terrified and covered in blood, while he'd been completely helpless, arriving too late. Too. Late.

"Oh Sherlock. Sherlock, no. You can't think like that," Rose said firmly. She quickly crossed the room and sat down beside him. "I made that mess all by myself and did my very best to keep it hidden until after you solved those murders. I didn't want you fussing over me and taking your attention from that case. You had nothing to do with my secrecy, or my being attacked, and I prevented you from protecting me. You didn't fail me, I failed me."

"Now I see why it both annoys and astonishes people so much when I do that," he grumbled. "How can you possibly read me that well?"

"No, most definitely not an open book and not easy to read, even for me," Rose admitted. "But I'm me, and if there's anyone in the world you let your guard down with, and let yourself feel, it's me. And thank god for that."

His eyebrow quirked, silently questioning her last statement.

"If you hadn't, you and Mycroft both, I'd be just as dysfunctional as the two of you are; heaven knows this world can't handle any more Holmeses like you and Mycroft," Rose told him.

Sherlock chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I think we lucked out with you, Mycroft and I. You're a good one," he whispered.

She blushed a bit, but gave him a smile. "Thanks. You're still my very favorite Sherlock in the whole wide world, you know that?"

"And you're my very favorite brat in the whole wide world," he assured her, kissing the top of her head. "Think you'll forgive me someday?"

"Not someday," Rose assured him. "Today. I forgive you today. But we've got to have rules about this whole thing. For starters, I won't keep information about potential dates from you. That way poor John won't get drugged again. That was a bit not good Sherlock!"

He shrugged. "He missed a whole Wednesday once and doesn't even know it."

"Didn't you learn your lesson after you did that to Mycroft a few times? I seem to remember an awful lot of howling coming from his office the last time you did that," Rose pointed out. It delighted her to no end when he blushed.

"So that's a rule too, no more of that," Rose said firmly. "And you will be reasonable. I won't be able to find the right man if you don't let me try out several of them. I'll be safe and honest and allow Mycroft to run their names if that will make you feel better. In return, you'll give me the space I need and let me fall in and out of love however many times it takes."

Sherlock sighed heavily. "That's a terrible plan. How am I supposed to protect you from heartache if you insist on looking for it?"

"You can't. There is something you can do though, that would mean the world to me."

"Which is?"

"Be here to help me pick up the pieces when love goes wrong," she whispered. "That's all you need to do, big brother. Think you can manage that?"

"I'll always be here for that," he promised. "Never doubt that Rose." Sherlock hugged her tightly, smiling when she simply scooted over and moved onto his lap. "Your height has its advantages."

"Does it now?" she asked, looking up at him.

"If you were taller, this would be very awkward," he pointed out.

"This is disgusting," a familiar voice stated, interrupting Rose's laughter. "All this sentimental nonsense just oozing out of the both of you. The trials and tribulations of my life are never ending."

"Poor, poor Mycroft," Rose responded, her snicker ruining her attempt to be sympathetic. "We just make your life so awful!"

"You do, don't attempt to convince yourselves otherwise. Nothing but trouble since the day you were born, the both of you."

Sherlock snorted. "It amuses me to no end that he acts as if he were the perfect child and we were these monsters that plagued his life. I happen to remember him getting into plenty of trouble all on his own, so don't let that nonsense fool you for a minute," he told Rose. "Mycroft has always had a flair for the dramatic."

The eldest Holmes rolled his eyes. "Family gatherings are just so lovely," he muttered.

"They are, just wait until Christmas! And my birthday just before that," Rose said grinning. "Loads of quality family time, albeit sprinkled with sarcasm and threats."

"Sounds about right," Sherlock nodded.

"Oh no, we are not doing Christmas. Absolutely not. You aren't little anymore; I don't have to keep up this charade any longer. You know I hate Christmas," Mycroft told her with a scowl.

"How unfortunate for you. We're going to have it and if you say no I'll have the most epic strop in the history of the world and make your life a living nightmare," Rose threatened, trying desperately to keep a stern façade as she did so.

Mycroft frowned. "So you'll misbehave like you do every day of every year? Sounds absolutely charming let me clear my calendar and write 'Rose's Christmas Tantrum' on it. The highlight of my year to be sure."

A pillow was promptly thrown at him and all Mycroft could do was shake his head. They never changed, either of his siblings, and though he'd never admit it out loud, he rather hoped they never did.