Rose gave the waiter a bit of a smile. Even he pitied her; that was most definitely a pity-filled smile. It was no wonder he gave her said smile, considering she'd been sitting alone for a good twenty minutes now. She'd already eaten her supply of bread and had finished her first cup of tea. Rose was getting desperate, so she reached for her mobile…
In a building nearby, Mycroft's mobile vibrated in his suit pocket. Pulling it out, he discovered it was Rose and rolled his eyes. "Police, fire or ambulance?" he asked by way of greeting.
"My, I- - wait, what?"
"You never call me Rose. You avoid verbal conversations via mobiles as if it will give you the plague. The fact that you are calling me must indicate an emergency, so let me ask again: police, fire or ambulance? Tell me which you need, and I'll have Anthea promptly dispatch the appropriate service," Mycroft answered glibly.
'Where is she?' he mouthed to Anthea.
"Oh Mycroft, don't be so dramatic," Rose scolded. "It is an emergency, but not of that sort. Please, please tell me you aren't busy right this moment."
His ever dependable PA had an address for him within just a few keystrokes and Mycroft pocketed the information before answering his sister. "At this precise moment, I've got my coat on about to leave the office for lunch. What is going on and why are you whispering? Or hissing, rather."
"Do you have someone you're meeting for lunch?"
"No."
"Now you do," Rose told him. "Please come as fast as you can, I'll explain when you get here, just know I'm not in any mortal danger. I'm at- -"
"I have the address already, Anthea is quite efficient."
Rose paused. "Alright that's a bit creepy My. But anyway, please come." She promptly hung up her mobile and insisted that the waiter not take the other menu away from the table. "No, I've just talked to him. He's on his way; he'll be walking in the door in about five and a half minutes I bet!"
Another look full of pity and the waiter disappeared once more.
Four minutes later, Mycroft entered the restaurant was led to Rose's table. He ordered tea before giving his sister his full attention. "I can hardly wait to hear what this is all about," he said, his tone dripping of sarcasm.
"I had a date and he hasn't showed. I've been here ages and they were all giving me sad looks. I was too embarrassed to pay for my tea and leave," Rose admitted. "I knew your office was nearby so I thought it was at least worth a try."
"Hmm. I'm flattered I think," Mycroft decided. "Nice to know you still need me for a few things now and again."
Rose rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous. I need you for plenty of things still. But in any case, thank you for coming. I won't have to die of humiliation now."
"It'll be nice to be treated to lunch for a change. Usually I pay; or rather the government does," Mycroft admitted. The look of shock on her face made him smirk with glee.
"I'm not rich you know. You could offer to split it with me," Rose pouted.
"Oh, I'm well aware you aren't rich. I pay one-fourth of your rent each month in order to keep you from becoming a starving street urchin," he quipped.
"I'm surprised you don't consider the fact that Sherlock would then recruit me for his homeless network a plus side to that option," Rose teased.
"Oh, don't believe for a second I haven't given that every due consideration, along with… twenty-seven other scenarios," Mycroft told her. "And of course I'll pay. A gentleman always pays. So, tell me about this boy."
"No, I don't think so. If he can't manage to show up for a lunch date he invited me to, he's not worth any further consideration. Might as well not put him on your radar, brother mine. After all, you might kidnap the poor fellow," she pointed out.
"You're very cheeky today, I'm not sure I approve."
Her eyebrow quirked. "How unfortunate, considering I learned it from you."
The two siblings exchanged a look that sent Rose into giggles, which she hastily tried to cover up as a cough while Mycroft merely smirked.
"You really are quite ridiculous. I suppose that's what makes you somewhat endearing to those you love you. I'll ask Sherlock."
"My! You're so terrible!" Rose wasn't able to cover up this burst of giggles. "You're positively ruthless in your battle armor."
Mycroft frowned. "My what?"
"Battle armor. That pin-striped suit you have on. Sherlock and I decided that was your battle armor, because you always wore it for the most serious government meetings and when you want to intimidate people, which are sometimes the same event."
"Often the same event," he corrected. "So what you're saying is you and Sherlock pawed through my wardrobe at some point and deduced things from it?"
"Yep. We were bored. Completely Sherlock's idea, but it was great fun I have to admit," Rose smiled. "I admittedly don't remember all of it, but Sherlock likely does, unless he deleted it."
"How long ago was this exactly?"
"That business trip you took when I was seven? To Geneva I believe it was. That's when we did it, and a whole lot of other things."
Mycroft frowned. "I remember that vividly."
Rose gulped a bit, blushing bright red. Not only did Mycroft remember it, but it sounded as though he didn't look back on that particular memory fondly.
"On to a different topic then. What would you like to do for your birthday? It's not that far from now and twenty is a big year I suppose," Mycroft mused. "So what would you like to do?"
Rose paused for a moment, a look of confusion coming over face. Sherlock always planned her parties, or at least he had since after their mother had passed away. Yet here he was, Mycroft, of all the people in the world, wanting to know what she'd like to do. What was worse is that she didn't have an answer for him!
"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it much to be honest. I mean, hooray I'm getting older and all that," she said hesitantly. "Maybe just a nice dinner? Someone cook for me for a change?"
"No fuss at all, just an intimate dinner then?"
Good god, was Mycroft encouraging her to have a party? Her brain was practically misfiring at the very thought of it.
Mycroft watched the emotions flicker across her face with great interest. She was rubbish at hiding them, always had been. Then suddenly… damn her, she knew! She knew.
"You want me to have a party. More than that, you want to give me a party," she said softly. "Because I wasn't here last year…" Rose's voice trailed off and she began blinking rapidly.
Her much put upon oldest brother mentally sighed. She was not going to cry. She simply was not because he was not going to hug her in a restaurant. There would be no hugging in public restaurants, he wouldn't allow it; period.
The two of them sat there in silence as Rose forced her tears under control and Mycroft waited uncomfortably for her to do so. Finally she managed to do just that. "You don't have to keep saying sorry," she whispered. "You really don't My. Please don't feel some odd sense of obligation to make things up to me and thus endure a beastly party because you feel it's your duty."
Oh how Mycroft hated it when she could deduce him so blasted easily like that. Hated it, loathed it, and despised it.
"You don't make it hard Mycroft," she murmured, seemingly reading his thoughts. "You really don't. I know you're called the Iceman in your circles, or some circles of less desirable human beings at any rate. Don't throw me a huge party because you owe it to me. Throw me one because you want to, just because. In fact, do just that. Plan a party for me on my birthday and keep everything a surprise. Guest list, food, cake, everything. I don't want to hear a word of it."
"You don't ask for much, do you?" Mycroft grumbled half-heartedly.
"No, though I can give you a list of expensive items you could purchase me for my birthday. Unless you've already got something picked out. Just in case you don't, I need more jewelry. Loads of jewelry. And more films and gift cards to my favorite shops and everything else you can possibly imagine. Just deduce it; I know you'll figure it out!" Rose announced happily.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Alright, leave the details to me, but not even one look of displeasure at what I plan. Understand?"
She gave him a bright grin. "I agree! Additionally, I've got news for you that you'll probably be, very, very thrilled about."
An eyebrow quirked. "Oh, do tell, sister mine. I'll pretend it's possible that something important has happened and am unaware of it."
"You are seriously no fun sometimes," she scolded. "Anyway, I got a job. Hooray, right? I can pay my whole rent all by myself soon!"
"You already have a job at your studio. What other job could you possibly have, or have time for?" Mycroft inquired. The idea of her being completely independent financially was a good one, he had to admit, but he wouldn't push her into it before she was ready.
"Lestrade hired me on to continue the stuff I've been doing for volunteer hours! Isn't that great? Pay isn't bad, hours are good, won't interfere with dance, and I can take time off for competitions and related travel when I need to," Rose told him. "First official day is tomorrow. Great, huh?"
"So long as you don't work yourself half to death, I pose no objection," Mycroft decided. After all, things would merely continue on just as they had been. "I'll be instructing Sherlock to look out for your wellbeing. You're not allowed to overwork yourself."
Rose waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, promises, promises. I'm actually really excited about it. I never thought he'd ever want to hire me on or even have me around at all."
"Well, he's seen you at your worst and at your best, so clearly he's discerned that you're not always an insufferable, law-breaking, rabble rousing brat. Pity; he's wrong." Mycroft gave her a self- satisfied smirk. He enjoyed teasing her more than he'd ever admit. Her reaction to such ribbings was always amusing, ranging from genuine outrage to sticking out her tongue at him.
"Very original Rose, and very mature," he murmured when she responded with an eye-roll. "Eat your lunch before it goes cold, brat."
Greg looked at his mobile for the fifth time that morning. Sighing heavily when he saw the time, he scrolled through the contact list and selected an entry.
"Hello, this is Rose. I'm busy dancing, so leave me a message and I'll ring you back when I can! Ta!"
He waited for the recording noise to go off before speaking. "Rose, its Greg. It's nearly 8:15 and you're never late. Please get in touch. I'm not upset," he added. "Just worried. Seriously, call me kid."
Ten minutes later, with no words from his young employee, Lestrade was just about to call Sherlock when he heard someone enter the department. His jaw dropped when he caught sight of Rose. Her hair was mussed; she was half covered in mud, and looked soaked to the bone. Without a word, Rose practically stomped all the way to his office and set their usual coffee drinks on his desk. After flopping into a chair, she crossed her arms on top of the desk and laid her head on them.
Rather shocked at her appearance, Greg was still trying to formulate a verbal response to her arrival when Rose spoke first. "Am I fired? Can I go home now?" The words almost came out as a whine and it made him smile a bit.
"No, you aren't fired. Sit up, drink your coffee and tell me what the hell happened to you," Greg told her, nudging her arm gently. "God, you're soaked aren't you? Ever heard of umbrellas? We sort of need those a lot here, you know."
Rose sat up and seized her coffee, holding on with both hands. "Don't be mean. I'm having a horrible day."
Greg couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I can tell. I was getting worried; I nearly called your brother. Why didn't you answer your mobile?"
She took a long, fortifying drink from her coffee before even bothering to answer. "All right, here's what happened. I slept through my alarm; I had like two minutes to get ready to leave. I threw this dress on- brand new, by the way. Trying to look all professional or something now that I'm an employee-"
"Professional or something?" Greg echoed.
"Don't interrupt Greg, it's rude, and I'm not in the mood for rude," Rose announced. She scowled darkly when he laughed, but continued on with her tale of woe. "So I dressed and grabbed the nearest pair of heels, threw on my jacket and took off running for the tube. Only when I got to the tube I realized I didn't have my lunch, my purse, my mobile, and no money at all."
"Rose Holmes, did you steal these coffees?" Greg asked, giving her a stern look.
"That's what you're worried about? Don't be anymore stupid than you have to be Greg. Louise was working and paid for them," Rose replied. "Anyway, I was standing there at the tube and started to cry, why I don't know, but a very nice woman paid for me. She called me little. I'm short, not little. But I was really grateful so I didn't correct her."
Greg laughed again. "You are little. I'm practically twice your age, so you're officially little in my book." He pulled himself together after a moment and if looks could kill, Rose would have buried him a dozen times over by now.
"I get off the tube and it starts raining and I don't have an umbrella. It's a really long way to walk here when it's raining- cold rain no less- and you don't have an umbrella. But it got worse. I slipped on the pavement and fell into a mud puddle. Fell. In. Mud puddle. If Mycroft had been around, he would have washed my mouth out, because I did that much cursing," Rose admitted.
"Let me guess. You made it to the coffee shop, Louise sort of tried to dry you off, bought our coffee out of the goodness of her heart- remind me to thank her for that, by the way- and then you got soaked again walking up here?" Greg finished.
"Exactly. I just… Why is my life a comedy of errors? It's not even nice! And its bloody December, I mean, why, why is raining buckets in December? I think the universe hates me." Rose gave a dramatic huff and slumped down in the chair.
"Well, you poor pitiful little thing," Greg responded, trying to sound sympathetic while grinning with amusement. When Rose looked like she might burst into tears, his grin disappeared. "Alright, none of that drama. No tears. There's no crying in the homicide division."
That made her grin. "Like there's no crying in baseball?" The confused look on his face made her laugh, and it felt so good to laugh at his confusion and her whole rotten morning.
"That's better," he decided when Rose's fit of giggles subsided. "I imagine you don't want to spend the rest of the day looking like you were attacked by a mud monster and I may have a solution. At least a part of one. I've got an extra button-up around here for the nights I don't get to go home and you can take part of your outfit off and wear that."
Rose stared at him for a moment. "Greg. It's a dress. You don't just take part of a dress off, it's sewn together!"
The detective-inspector blushed a bit. "Er, right. Let me see what I can do, I'll be right back." He left his grumpy assistant in his office and went in search of trousers for her, returning some ten minutes later.
"What the hell are those?!" she exclaimed, looking at the overly large pair of sweat pants Greg was holding. He'd retrieved them from the workout and training area in the building and thought them a perfect solution. "You are a mouthy thing today, aren't you? Good thing I like you or you'd be sacked," he teased.
"Being "mouthy" is hardly the worst thing I've done to you," Rose laughed, blushing just a bit.
"That's true," he admitted, thinking back on their run-ins prior to the crime scene debacle. "This is all I have for you, kid; you'll just have to make do."
Rose let out a very woeful sigh. "Make do and look like a complete idiot."
"That'd make a nice change," Greg said thoughtfully. "A Holmes looking like an idiot. That never happens and it'll make my day to see it."
Rose groaned and grabbed the offensive pants and the button-up. "Text Sherlock and tell him to bring me some trousers and a blouse immediately. Please make the urgency of the situation known to him," she ordered before wandering off to change.
'Your sister met with a puddle and needs clothing.'
'Explain. SH'
'Rose wants you to bring her clothes. It's urgent.'
'Why is it urgent? Is she naked? SH'
'No, of course not!'
'Then clearly it's not urgent. SH'
Rolling his eyes at the consulting detective, Lestrade put his mobile away and got back to work, managing just barely to keep from laughing hysterically when Rose reappeared. When she stuck her tongue out at him, however, Greg gave into the deep belly laughs he'd been holding back.
A few hours later, Lestrade waved Rose into his office. "Since you haven't got a lunch I thought I'd order extra takeaway and share. You like Thai?"
Rose nodded and sat down. "I just starting to feel peckish, so that's perfect timing. Thanks! I take back all the awful things I've thought about you today… and other days."
"Today, I'll give you," he agreed. "But what other days? And do I want to know these awful thoughts?" Greg asked, passing her a plate.
"Probably not, but I take them all back. You're in my good graces again," Rose assured him with a smile.
"Well thank the lord for that!" Greg gave her a wink before digging into his meal. The office was silent for a few minutes while both of them began filling their bellies.
"Christmas is right around the corner," Rose suddenly said. "Just two weeks away in fact. What are you doing for Christmas?"
God how he hated that question! That was the worst question when your answer was nothing. "I don't have any plans," Lestrade admitted. "And don't you dare say "Oh, how sad!" and give me a pitiful look."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" Rose exclaimed. She flashed him a bright grin.
"You're glad I haven't got plans for the holidays?" Greg questioned, confusion written all over his face.
Rose nodded, continuing to smile. "Want to spend Christmas with us? We're going out to the country house and it's really lovely there. Very relaxing. I'm going to cook and I'm really a fantastic cook. Ask John, he'll tell you."
Somehow it didn't surprise him that the Holmes family had a country house. Knowing them it was more like a vast estate than a modest house. "Who is 'we' and where is this country house?"
"My brothers, John and I. Maybe Mycroft's PA, Anthea, too but I'm not positive about that. It'll be really cozy and nice, you should come! It's only a couple hours away. You and I could go together so you know how to get there," Rose offered.
"I'll not come if it's a pity invite," Greg said firmly. "I don't want to be the sorry house guest no one wants but invited out of some feeling of obligation."
Rose shook her head emphatically. "Not a pity invite. I was going to invite you a couple weeks back but got sidetracked with getting in extra practice time before the competition. It slipped my mind, honestly. Things were chaotic."
"I won't be in the way? No one else will mind?" Greg asked before taking another bite of his lunch.
"No, of course not! There's plenty of room at the house for you, promise."
"I accept then," he decided, giving the young woman a grin. "Can I ask you something?" When Rose nodded, Greg continued on. "Is Sherlock and Mycroft decorating for the holidays as funny as I'm imagining it to be?"
Rose giggled and nodded. "It's hilarious! They only do it for me but they aren't quiet about their distaste for it. Mycroft actually whines about it."
Greg laughed loudly. "That I would pay to see!"
"Lucky for you, we aren't asking for more than the pleasure of your company," Rose quipped. "We'll work out the travel details later on. Right now, I'm going to ignore you and be very ill-mannered about how I devour this tasty lunch!"
The days before Rose's twentieth birthday were flying by, both for her and for those anxious to buy her lovely things. John had found himself wondering for a few days now what exactly he should get her and thought he finally had some good ideas. Intending to run them by Sherlock, he headed into the sitting room to find his flatmate intently examining the screen of a laptop. "Is that Rose's laptop?"
Sherlock sighed heavily, giving his friend a non-verbal admonishment for his stupidity before adding the verbal portion. "These large pink ballet slippers on the cover weren't enough of a clue for you, John? And here I thought your deduction abilities had been improving of late; pity."
"Dick," John replied, rolling his eyes.
"Don't curse around the baby," Sherlock responded and then proceeded to wince. He was certain he'd broken the habit of referring to Rose that way out loud several years ago. Not to mention she wasn't even in the room! He immediately deduced that her impending birthday was making him nostalgic, which was rather appalling.
John looked over at his friend and smiled. "That's how you think of her isn't it? Even now."
"Nope." He'd responded too quickly and knew it, too.
"Liar," John laughed, shaking his head. He felt a bit triumphant, knowing without a doubt that the genius was lying through his teeth. Rarely did John have such luck!
"Okay, Mycroft and I do continue to refer to Rose in that manner every now and then," Sherlock admitted with a grumble. "Go on and laugh if you cannot manage to control yourself John."
"It's sweet, really it is," John replied, grinning when Sherlock groaned. "And something I'll never understand. Harry and I were far too close in age for me to think of her like that and we never really got on in the first place."
"Mmm."
"So what are you doing with her laptop anyway? She won't be pleased you've got it," John pointed out.
"I'm examining her browser history so I can select something to get her for her birthday," Sherlock explained.
"That makes sense, but you could have just asked her."
"What's the fun in that John? Then she knows I'm purchasing something from her list and it isn't as much of a surprise," Sherlock pointed out. "Dull."
"Well, since you're already at it, give me a few ideas, will you?"
Sherlock heaved a big sigh. "Yes, John. Now be quiet; and also make tea."
John rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen to make the requested tea, thinking that a good cuppa would be just about perfect right then.
Rose vaguely heard the jiggle of keys in her front door as she drifted in that place between being asleep and awake. She kept her eyes closed and cuddled deeper under the duvet, willing whoever was attempting to get into her apartment would go away. Considering only her brother had keys, there was no reason to panic and every reason to continue sleeping.
"Sherlock," John hissed as a tray rattled. "Hold the door for me."
"This is an asinine idea John," Sherlock grumbled, but dutifully held the door.
"It's a lovely idea, provided you don't wake her up first."
The two men quietly entered Rose's bedroom, at least as quietly as two men trying to walk softly while carrying a large tray could be anyway.
"She's awake," Sherlock announced with a sigh. He could always tell when she was trying to pretend she was asleep.
"Damn it Sherlock! I wanted to surprise her, not wake her up because you hit the tray with the door," John scolded.
"You two aren't as quiet as you think you are," Rose murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Go on, pretend I'm asleep."
John gave Sherlock a look and with a sigh the consulting detective crossed the room over to her bed. "Wake up. It's morning." He promptly poked her shoulder through the duvet. John promptly swore under his breath.
"No, I'll stay asleep, thank you," Rose decided, not even opening her eyes. "That was a poor attempt at waking me up. Try again."
"I don't like playing pretend Rose."
"I seem to remember you playing pretend plenty of times when I gave tea parties." Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine the look of pure loathing on his face.
"How's this for a wake up then?" Sherlock yanked the covers off, rolled her over, and gave her behind a hearty smack.
"Ow!" Rose yelped, a hand flying back to cover her pajama clad bottom. "Hate you Sherlock!"
"Hate you too. Happy birthday," Sherlock replied glibly. "You can move your hand and roll over now. In fact, I think John would appreciate that."
"I don't know why I bother. You two are bloody hopeless, you know that?" John grumbled. "Happy birthday, I'm sorry your brother is a moron, and I brought you breakfast. Can you officially wake up now Rose?"
"Oh, I'm very much awake," Rose assured him, sitting up on her bed. "And Sherlock is a moron."
The brother in question gave her a hard look before pouting. "Don't call names, we brought you breakfast."
"I made the breakfast, he put it on the tray, I carried the tray, and he hit me with the door coming in here," John said. He waited for her settle in before placing the tray on her bed and kissing her cheek. "Happy birthday, love."
Rose giggled and kissed John's cheek in return. "Why is there only one breakfast here? I don't want to eat by myself! Go get your own breakfasts and come back. Go on!"
"I'll have tea," Sherlock decided, making himself comfortable on her bed.
"Oh, you'll have tea, will you? You'd best come get it yourself or I'm going to pour it on your head when I come back in here," John threatened.
An eyebrow quirked. "Are you seriously threatening me?"
John shrugged. "Test me and find out."
"Good for you, John! Bravo! Put your foot down with him, he's a terrible brat," Rose stated in a serious tone before having a fit of giggles as John began laughing.
With an exaggerated sigh meant to conjure some sympathy, Sherlock got up and headed back to his own flat for his tea.
"Anything else you need Rose, or did I get everything?" John asked with a smile. "You're the birthday girl, I'll happily wait on you."
"Bring the rest of the coffee with you. Or, better yet, just make up another cuppa the way I like it, please?"
John gave her a salute. "Yes ma'am," he teased, giving her a wink.
"If I had known my life was going to be this much fun when I came back, I'd have come home sooner," Rose mused before digging into her breakfast with gusto.
NOTE: More birthday fun coming up in the next chapter! Thank you so much to all my lovely reviewers- I've got a whole hundred now and can hardly stand myself! You're the best!