"Okay… Ew. Super ew," Rose decided, wrinkling her nose.
"It's a needle and it's making a lovely Celtic knot on my shoulder. That's not ew," Louise replied, sounding a bit offended.
"Lou, you're not even Celtic. Not even close."
"That hardly matters. It's going to be awesome!"
"Says the teenager," Rose muttered.
"To the other teenager," Louise countered. The girls shared a giggle that caused the tattoo artist to roll his eyes.
"I can't believe this freaks you out Rose. Your brother dissects eyeballs on the dining table and a needle, ink and some blood is what bothers you?"
The tattoo artist looked up at Rose in alarm, wondering if he had the sister of a serial killer in his shop.
"No, don't look like that. It's for science, seriously," Rose assured him. "And I sort of had to get over that bit, because Sherlock did that constantly and out of self-preservation I had to learn not to vomit each time he did."
"You never got over the kidneys. Or the hands and toes," Louise said by way of rebuttal.
"Nor severed heads, but Mycroft cured him of that one. I'm pretty sure Sherlock keeps those in a cooler or something, when he has them. I try not to think about that."
"Wait, wait, Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes?" the tattoo artist interrupted.
"Yep, that'd be the one," Rose confirmed.
"I didn't know he had a sister, are you a detective too?"
"God no! I'm a dancer and I try not to associate myself with my brother too often. Either of them."
Louise giggled. "Except she lives next door to the famous one so that's awkward, the avoiding bit."
"No, the fan mail is much more awkward," Rose whispered. "Trust me. There's something about that hat. It's a stupid hat, I don't get it. Wear a Stetson, that's classy. Or a top hat or something. Not the most ridiculous looking hat that's probably ever been manufactured."
"I sort of like it," Louise admitted. "Not that I fancy your brother. God no, oh hell no," she rushed to assure her best friend. "That's… ew. No offense."
"None taken. Let's make a pact not to fancy each other's brothers," Rose suggested.
"You're brilliant."
"Tell Mycroft that, would you? I could use a bit of help in that department."
Louise giggled. "So if you're not getting a tat, what are you getting? Am I seriously going to be the only cool one of the two of us? That'll completely upset the balance of our lives thus far, you know. You're the brilliant one that I use for show and tell."
"And what are you?"
"What's that saying…? The one American men say in all their bromance flicks. Wingman? I'm your wingwoman."
Rose gaped at her for several seconds before rolling her eyes. "Okay then. Well, back to the original question, I think I'll get something pierced."
"A nipple?"
"So awkward, Lou, really. And what if I get into some horrible car accident and they have to cut my clothes off to save my life or something?"
Louise snorted. "Unlikely. Be honest, you think Mycroft will know."
"Of course he will. He knows everything. That's why all our scathingly brilliant ideas failed miserably when we were little. Might as well be out in the open about it anyway, that way he can't have too much of a hissy. Sherlock was completely fine with the idea this morning," Rose admitted. "Which was a bit odd."
"The permission of one brother is enough to stop a fit from the other," Louise pointed out. "You and your awkward little set of co-parents. So-tongue? Lip?"
She shook her head. "Gross. Food. I think my nose. Just something tiny, nothing garish. Little bitty stud, something pink."
"Uh, I can get you set up with someone to do that," the tattoo artist offered. "We do piercings here too."
"See?" Louise said excitedly. "You're good to go! Go on; get it done before you talk yourself out of it. Can I be there when Mycroft sees it? Please? God he's so funny sometimes. I can hear it now 'Rosenwyn Holmes, you are a lady and ladies don't have piercings in the cartilage of their nasal cavity.'"
Rose giggled hysterically for a moment. "Next time we see him, do that impression. He'll hate it!" She gave Louise a wink before following another worker to a station to get her nose pierced.
Newly 'reinvented', as the girls liked to think of it, the two best friends departed the tattoo parlor. Unable to remember the last time she'd had an evening to herself, no dancing or teaching dancing, and no confinement to the flat, Rose made sure she had a grand time with Louise. They did some window shopping- and fell in love with shoes they had no need for but bought them anyway- and went out to dinner to wrap up their night.
It was after dark by the time the girls parted ways and Rose caught a cab back to Baker Street. After paying her fare, she stepped out and was surprised to see Mycroft exiting his own car at that same time.
"My! Were we expecting you? I was out with Louise," Rose told him, smiling brightly.
"No, you weren't," Mycroft assured her. "But I wanted to speak to you about something and-" His voice trailed off and he frowned as Rose moved closer and he caught sight of her face.
"Ask me what? Let's go in, it's cold," she urged, pulling her coat tighter.
Her eldest brother frowned, his mouth settling into a thin line for a moment. "What is that?" Mycroft pointed to her nose, his voice low and quiet.
"My nose; with a nose ring. I got it pierced today, Louise paid for it for my birthday," Rose said calmly.
Mycroft's mouth fell open as he stared at her. "Oh no; no. Absolutely not. That's coming out right this minute," he declared. "What in heaven's name were you thinking?"
Not wanting to fight with him, Rose forced herself not to immediately become offensive. "I like it and I'm an adult. I'm allowed to reinvent myself and have a nose piercing if I so choose. That's what normal people my age do, redefine themselves I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it's my nose."
"You're sorry if I don't like it?" he repeated in a dangerous tone. "How many times must we have this discussion throughout your life, Rosenwyn? You are a lady and ladies don't have piercings in the cartilage of their nasal cavity. They are ridiculous and unattractive and unnecessary and irrelevant, and host of other things as well. I won't allow it. It's coming out."
"My! I told Sherlock about it this morning and he said it was fine. If he's fine with it, why can't you be?" she asked.
The look on Mycroft's face darkened ominously. "Did he now?" Without waiting for an answer, he took her by the arm and marched her inside and up to John and Sherlock's flat.
"Sherlock!" Rose called out. "Tell Mycroft to leave me alone about my piercing. It's not appropriate if you give permission and then he takes it away, especially when it's my nose in question."
Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading. "I what? Piercing? Permission? Have you lost your mind? I would never give you permission to do such a thing! It's vulgar and dull."
"Dull?" Mycroft repeated incredulously as he allowed Rose to wriggle out of his grasp.
"Actually, Sherlock, you did," John interrupted. "Rose came in this morning and told us both about her plans. You said 'fine' and you weren't pleased when I tried to verify you'd actually heard what Rose said."
Mycroft had had it and Rose backed away just a bit, knowing a bellow was imminent. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE IN CHARGE?" he shouted. "You and your confounded experiments always taking your attention away from everything around you! She is clever Sherlock, too clever, and you make it far too easy for her to circumvent you with her mad schemes. You always have! It's unconscionable Sherlock! Why do we still have to have this conversation? You're supposedly an adult! Grow up already and parent properly for once in your life!"
This is bound to go over well, Rose though to herself. She gave John an apologetic look.
Sherlock jumped up from his chair, unwilling to let Mycroft have the upper hand by towering over him. "I will handle it Mycroft! Must you always do this? You're not my parent, you're her parent!"
"I might as well have been your parent!" Mycroft shot back.
"Well if you were and you're this unhappy with me all these years later, congratulations, brother, you did a rubbish job!" Sherlock shouted.
Unwilling to be caught in the middle of the fray, which if the shouting was any indication could come to blows, John vacated his chair and sought refuge in the kitchen. He wasn't the least bit surprised when Rose followed suit.
"Is it always like this?" he asked.
"Not always. Maybe once a year or so they have an epic screaming fit over who is the better parent and how the other one can improve their parenting skills and just all sorts of nonsense. I never really stuck around when they got this way. Went out the window and took the tube to Louise's. Sometimes it a good two hours before they finished and realized I was gone," Rose admitted.
Rolling her eyes, she moved further away from her brothers, knowing they'd have to scream it out at one another and wouldn't appreciate her interference. "Need coffee," she told John. "They're so stressful sometimes."
Mycroft spotted her at the coffee maker out of the corner of his eye. "How many cups is that today Rosenwyn? You've already been to the coffee shop twice, isn't that enough?"
"Shut up Mycroft," Rose practically bellowed, her frustration level reaching its peak. "I'm an adult and I'll drink all the coffee I want. And if you take my coffee away, I will become a murderer and you will be my first victim."
Suddenly shouting at Sherlock took second place and Mycroft crossed the kitchen with a look that boded poorly for Rose, and her behind, on his face. "You, young lady, may think you're an adult but you are most definitely not too old for a sound smacking if you think that is an appropriate way to speak to me!"
"Wait! I didn't mean it, I apologize! I really apologize most sincerely!" Rose exclaimed, moving as far away from her approaching brother as was possible, one hand over her bum, the other hand out in front of her to ward off her decidedly unhappy brother.
"Oh Mycroft, leave her be! You should know better by now than to interfere with her caffeine," Sherlock interjected. He looked the picture of exasperation, particularly when Mycroft came back towards him and the argument about her nose piercing, and Sherlock's lackadaisical parenting resumed at full force.
"I should never have agreed to let her move in here! Clearly you are ill equipped for this Sherlock! What's next? Today it's a nose piercing, tomorrow it will be-"
"Mycroft, arguing in front the child undermines our authority and I've been telling you this for years! It's really not appropriate to fight in front of the child at all!" Sherlock shouted, cutting his brother off mid-rant. "You and your stupid parenting books, didn't you read that part? I didn't read any and even I know that! Would you please cease your shouting like some sort of raging hormonal banshee?!"
John and Rose shared a look and nearly dissolved into hysterical laughter at Sherlock's exasperated comment. "He read parenting books? Mycroft? Seriously?" he asked when he felt sufficiently under control.
She nodded until she could get her desire to laugh under control enough to elaborate. "He took his duties as a stand-in father very seriously, I've been told. Sort of adorable really, except when it's not," Rose told him with a shrug. "In about four minutes, My is going to smack Sherlock good with his brolly. Or poke him in the chest with it."
"Can I ask you something?" John questioned, doing his best to ignore the shouting and pretend their flat hadn't become the epicenter of a world war.
"Sure, why not?" Rose decided.
"Why'd you do it?"
"This?" she asked, indicating her nose. "It's a bit cool I think and I'm trying to move forward and everything. Reinvent myself a bit. Seemed the least damaging way to do that, honestly. I didn't get a tattoo though, in case you're wondering."
John nodded, considering her words for a moment before responding. "Alright, I can respect that. Might a make a comment about something you should consider though, in this reinventing process?" When she nodded her permission, he continued on. "If I was a parent taking my daughter to dance classes, I'd probably think twice before turning my three year old over to a dance instructor with a nose ring."
Rose frowned, considering his words. "I look like less of a professional with a nose ring. You're not upset that I have one, you just want me to consider the sort of image I need to have as both a dancer and a teacher?"
"Precisely. Not going to say you should take it out or tell you to leave it in. It's just something you should think about," John agreed.
"That's actually a really good point," she admitted, blushing a bit. "I didn't think about that before I got it. I want my job and career so much more than I want a nose ring. Why didn't you say something this morning?"
"I'm not your brother, or your stand-in parent. Those two lunatics over there are," he replied, pointing at two screaming men.
"They are lunatics," Rose agreed. She carefully took out the nose ring and walked calmly over to her brothers. She poked Mycroft's arm until he stopped to pay attention to her and then put the nose ring in his hand before silently returning to her coffee.
The two men stopped and looked at Mycroft's hand in confusion as if unable to process what they were seeing.
Sherlock recovered first. "What just happened?"
"John, who is clearly the only sane person here out of the lot of you, made an excellent point. One which I couldn't argue with and so I've decided not to have a nose ring," Rose explained.
"And what point did the good doctor make?" Mycroft inquired.
"He said that if he was a parent, he'd think twice before turning his daughter over to a dance instructor with a nose ring. I like my job and want to keep it far more than I want to have a nose ring, so the nose ring is done."
The two brothers frowned looked at John, who merely shrugged. "Just seemed like common sense to me. She's more than willing to listen to reason, if you treat her like an adult. Unlike the two of you who looked ready to come to blows a moment ago."
Mycroft looked ready to spit nails and it took everything Rose had in her to keep from laughing hysterically. Her brother, bested by a normal person.
"I trust we won't have any further issues of this nature, then, if you're now aware of the negative impacts it has on your professionalism?" Mycroft asked.
"Correct. Now hug it out," she requested.
"No," both men answered, sounding scandalized.
"Yes. We're family; we love each other, and that was a nasty row. Hug it out and apologize."
The look on their faces was not one of familial affection. In fact it was something more akin to a person having ingested acid.
"Or at least shake hands. I don't like it when you both do that. I never have," Rose admitted. "Do it for me. Shake hands for me. For the record, by the way, I think Sherlock is lovely just the way he is. I also sort of like you too Mycroft. But you really shouldn't pick on Sherlock so much. He's had less practice than you, after all."
"Oh how I hate it when she's right about something," Mycroft grumbled.
"It is rather disconcerting," Sherlock agreed. "I do my best with her. We just have different ways of doing it. My way is clearly best, but you're entitled to your way, particularly if you've resigned yourself to being the mean brother."
"Sherlock really!" Rose scolded. "You two are exasperating and you're also rubbish parents, the pair of you. Shakes hands now."
They didn't move even a teeny tiny bit.
"Now as in immediately!"
Sherlock gave his baby sister a look. "You sounded exactly like Mycroft just now."
Rose's mouth dropped open. "Sherlock! That's a terrible thing to say!" Rather than throw a pillow at him, she went over and soundly smacked his shoulder with it. "Don't say such awful things!"
"Why is it awful that you sound like me?" Mycroft inquired, looking very offended.
"Deduce it, genius. After you shake hands with Sherlock," Rose retorted sarcastically.
Looking as if they were about to face an execution, the two brothers shook hands.
"Thank you. Now that all the shrieking mess is done, what brings you here Mycroft?" Rose curled up in Sherlock's chair and sipped at her coffee, which John had kindly brought to her.
"I wanted to issue you an invitation in the hope that you'd be willing to do me a favor," he admitted, taking John's chair. "But I'm no longer certain that's wise."
"God, you don't expect much do you?" Rose asked in all seriousness. "'You're a lady, ladies don't wear nose rings' as if I've actually done something outrageous, have such a fit it's lucky the police weren't called, and then want me to do you a favor? That's rich, My, that's really rich, even for you."
"Don't be smart!"
"Don't be smart, I'm the smart one," Rose and Sherlock imitated in unison.
Mycroft sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Aren't you the least bit curious what I would need to ask of you?"
Rose's eyes narrowed for a minute before she answered. "Against my better judgment, yes, I am." She sipped at her coffee, giving him an expectant look.
"My presence is required at a diplomatic reception just after the New Year and I was thinking you might be interested in accompanying me."
"Why would I be? Sounds boring."
"It is and that's why I'd like someone intelligent there with me. Besides, there's dancing and my employer asked me to bring you," Mycroft explained.
Rose beamed brightly. "I've always liked her so much."
"Liked who?" John asked.
"The Queen. She's lovely. I get a birthday card from her every year, other than last year when I was gone."
John gaped at her. "You know the Queen? The Queen of England?"
"She does, since the age of four when she stormed Buckingham Palace and rather than being cross with her, the Queen asked her if she'd like tea and biscuits," Mycroft grumbled.
"How does a four-year-old storm Buckingham Palace?"
"Some of my previous PAs were far less… efficient and capable than Anthea."
"I was very upset that day John. I had stitches in my head and it was very traumatic and My sent his stupid PA to collect me from school rather than come himself. Naturally I threatened to run away forever and ever if she didn't bring me to Mycroft immediately," Rose explained.
"Oh. Naturally," John echoed, disbelief written all over his face.
"In any case, she said I must come to this one and wouldn't it be wonderful to bring my delightful sister with me," Mycroft explained.
"I'll do it," Rose agreed with a smile. "Even if everyone else is boring, the Queen is lovely and there will be dancing and that's always excellent. On one condition: I get a new dress and price is no object. Naturally that includes a clutch and shoes appropriate to the occasion."
"Done. Anthea will take you shopping in a few weeks to ensure your choice is appropriate."
"Why don't you take Anthea?" Sherlock asked.
"She refuses to go. She's been to several of them and is, admittedly, due a break," Mycroft stated. "Now, promise me that you won't go off and shave your head, get a tattoo, or pierce anything else before then."
Rose's eyes lit up. "Does that mean I can do all those things after the reception?"
Mycroft gave her a stern look, clearly not amused. "No."
"Oh well," she sighed. "I promise anyway."
"Excellent. I'll take my leave then," Mycroft decided as he rose from the chair.
"Please do, brother, and don't hurry back," Sherlock said by way of a farewell.
Rolling her eyes, Rose got up to give Mycroft a hug, whether he wanted one or not. "Be kind to Sherlock," she whispered. "He's always taken good care of me, even if it's not the way you would have done it."
"Hmm. I suppose that's true," he replied. "Be good. Also, stop sounding so grown up."
"Poor My, getting so very old," she teased.
Mycroft shook his head. "It's a miracle I'm not dead, to be honest," he told her. "You've never been easy. You or Sherlock."
"Would you really like me any other way?" Rose inquired, clearly curious.
"I'd prefer you to be less cheeky and think things through a bit more, but aside from that, I don't think I'd want you to change anything," he admitted. "I've grown accustomed to you over the years." Mycroft kissed her cheek before departing the flat.
Rose watched him leave, shaking her head. "John, do you want a refill? I think I need a refill," she murmured, retrieving her coffee mug.
"Rose, come here," Sherlock requested, crooking his finger.
She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Come over here and sit down," he told her, indicating the place next to him on the couch.
With a heavy sigh Rose put her mug down and cross the room to sit by Sherlock.
"I don't appreciate what you did today," he told her sternly. "You know very well when I am and am not paying attention to what you say. Just because I don't pay attention that does not give you license to go out and do whatever you feel like doing, particularly when it brings the wrath of Mycroft down on my head."
Despite herself, Rose could feel her face growing red and hot. Her gaze shifted from his face down to the sofa cushion. She promptly frowned at the cushion when she realized recalled it was a plain color and not patterned.
Sherlock almost smiled to himself when her gaze shifted like that. She'd always been that way- as soon as it was too hard to look he or Mycroft in the face, she'd look somewhere else and start tracing patterns with her fingers, or fiddling with a waistcoat or shirt button, or twisting a blanket in her hands. It was a nervous habit and one that was rather adorable, he admitted to himself. But more than being adorable, it was her quiet acceptance that he was correct. Rose never gave up without a fight unless she knew she was wrong, as she did now.
"I think you know very well Rosenwyn that I would not have given my approval to you piercing your nose or anywhere else. It's vulgar and dull, and you are neither of those things," Sherlock told her quietly. "I'm disappointed that you chose to seek permission when you know I was absorbed in my work, rather than have a proper dialogue with me about it. Very disappointed. You're too old to play those games."
Rose sniffled but didn't respond immediately, so Sherlock waited patiently for her to decide to do so.
"Sometimes… sometimes it's harder than you think, knowing when you actually are paying attention but keeping your eyes glued on your experiment and when you're not," she finally said quietly. Rose took a deep breath and then raised her head to look at him. "I honestly thought you were listening fully. I wasn't trying to take advantage of the fact you were distracted. Not this time."
Sherlock reached out and gently cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across it, drying the stray tears that had begun falling. "Then let's consider this a learning opportunity. Next time be absolutely certain you've got my attention and next time I'll be clearer about where my focus lies. Sometimes there are experiments I can't just stop in the middle of," he explained. "Does that sound fair?"
Rose nodded. "It does."
"This is our one learning opportunity," Sherlock reiterated. "I won't be lenient if I think you've manipulated me from this point forward, now that we've communicated about the matter. Is that clear?"
"It's clear."
"That's my good girl," Sherlock murmured before leaning forward to kiss her forehead.
"Did Mycroft hurt your feelings?" Rose asked suddenly.
"Oh please Rose," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Why?"
"Because I wanted you to know that he's got it all wrong. You're not bad at parenting, you're just very different from how he is," Rose explained.
"That's mostly because I never wanted to be your parent. I wasn't old enough to feel the massive sense of responsibility that Mycroft did when you were born. He was bound to step into that role, one way or another, and he merely did it the best way he knew how.
"I was content to just be your big brother and really only stepped more towards parental responsibilities when the need arose," Sherlock tried to explain. "When Mother's health really deteriorated at a rapid pace and I knew Mycroft couldn't do it on his own. Not that he'd ever admit that, but I knew it. I didn't do it for him though, I did it for you."
Rose wrapped her arms around Sherlock, hugging him tightly before simply moving onto his lap. "For what it's worth," she whispered. "You're my very favorite Sherlock in the whole wide world, even when you have to be a meanie."
Sherlock chuckled and hugged her tightly. "And you're still my very favorite brat in the whole wide world, always; no exceptions."
"Even when I pierce my nose and bring the wrath of Mycroft on your head?"
"Even then; promise."
"Anything to be the fun brother, right?" Rose asked, giving him a grin.
"Absolutely. There's nothing better than throwing it in Mycroft's face that I'm the fun brother. It irks him so and that's just fun," Sherlock gave her a devilish grin that sent her into a fit of giggles.
John, who sat in his chair, completely forgotten by the siblings, merely shook his head and smiled.