NOTE: I admittedly have no knowledge of diplomatic functions or what any of the royals are like personally,just having a bit of fun.

John and Sarah Sawyer had always had a connection, right from the day he applied to work at the surgery. That connection had only increased as they flirted with one another and then had the most disastrous first date in the history of the world involving kidnapping by a Chinese gang with a near death experience. Things like that tended to create a lasting bond between people and though he and Sarah had dated and eventually parted ways, they'd remained good friends and coworkers and there was still an inkling of chemistry between them. When Sarah had asked that morning if John would like to see a movie with her, the ex-soldier saw no valid reason to refuse.

Things had gone well at the theater, though neither of them really had any clue what happened for most of the movie as it had been spent making out in the back row like randy teenagers, John's frustrations over the situation with Rose fueling his libido. Somehow they'd ended up back at Baker Street, ordered takeaway and opened a bottle of wine, proceeding to pick up where they'd left off at the movie. John had every intention of moving upstairs to his room with Sarah long before either Sherlock or Rose were due to come home. But, once blood was flowing to places other than his brain and things got rather hot and heavy, watching the clock or thinking about anything other than what was going on right there with Sarah was simply no longer possible.

John took very little notice of anything, in fact, until Sarah suddenly jerked and gasped, pulling away from him a bit. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at what had startled Sarah and saw Rose standing there just inside the door. Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell. Jumping off Sarah as though he'd been burnt, the two tried to put their disheveled clothing to rights, and John wracked his brain to figure out what the hell to even say.

Luckily for him, Rose didn't stick around long enough to give him a chance to say anything. As John and Sarah put themselves back together, Rose grabbed her bag, coat and shoes and went into her own flat, slamming the door hard behind her and firmly locking it. She knew John wouldn't just let himself in, even if he did have a key; unlike Sherlock, John actually understood and respected privacy. Rose wanted to cry, her heart ached enough to cry, and yet the tears weren't there and that more than anything confused the hell out of her. Space, she needed space, and she knew exactly where to find it. Rose pulled her mobile out of her pocket and sent off a quick text message.

'Mycroft, I want to come home for a bit. Please send your car back for me. Please?'

'Everything alright? M'

'It's complicated and I just want to come home.'

'ETA 10 minutes. M'

That gave her ten minutes to pack whatever she might need for a few days stay at home. Rose ran through her flat, grabbing essentials like deodorant, panties and socks, and her toothbrush, shoving them into an overnight bag. The bear from her nightstand went into the bag, as well as her ipod.

As she opened her closet to select some outfits and pairs of shoes, Rose could hear loud knocking on her door.

"Rose!" John called. "Rose, open the door please! Let's talk about this! Sarah went home, let's talk!"

"I have nothing to say to you John Watson!" Rose shouted back. She grabbed two skirts, several tops, a pair of dress pants and jeans, shoving them into her bag, followed by her favorite dress shoes and a pair of flats, last but not least two sets of pajamas.

In a fit of pique she started grabbing all of John's jumpers that she could find in her flat and momentarily debated on whether to throw them out the window or put them in her bathtub and set them on fire. Deciding he wasn't worth the effort to do either of those things, she grabbed her purse and her bags, slinging them all over her shoulders, and picked up the pile of jumpers.

"Rose please! I didn't mean for you to see that! I just… Rose, please, come out and talk to me or let me in! Please!" John's tone was more urgent now, as was his knocking. Finally the door opened, but all John could see was a large bundle of what appeared to be his jumpers, which were unceremoniously shoved into his arms.

"I don't have anything to say to you John Watson," Rose said firmly. "There's not even anything to speak about. Tell Sherlock I went to Mycroft's and I don't care what you give him for a reason."

John's jaw dropped. "Isn't that a little drastic? Rose, please, just come into the flat, I'll make tea and we'll talk." His heart was racing, knowing he couldn't let her leave without explaining, but he wasn't even sure he could explain it. If he let her leave, that would be the end of it, of everything. Baker Street would never be the same.

"No, I'm very, very tired of talking with you. Go find Sarah and get back to your heavy petting that I unfortunately interrupted," Rose instructed in a firm tone. "If you don't want to be with me that's fine, but have the decency to keep sexual activities in your bedroom, rather than the communal living space, alright? That's just common courtesy and really, Sherlock doesn't want to see it either!" Her voice rose in volume the longer she spoke, and Rose struggled to control her anger. "And you just be happy I didn't set your jumpers on fire! I really, really wanted to but you are so not worth the effort. Now I want to go home, so get the hell out of my way."

"But this is your home. Please, Rose, I can explain, I didn't mean…"

"ENOUGH!" Rose screamed, her face going red. "That is bloody well enough out of you for a lifetime and I don't know if I even want this to be home anymore. Now get out of my way or so help me god I will shove you down the stairs!"

Uncertain if she'd actually follow through on such a threat, and not willing to gamble his neck on it, John stepped aside and watched her descend the stairs and disappear out the door, wondering if she'd ever come back through it again.

Mycroft was waiting at the front door when Rose arrived, much to her chagrin. She was not at all in the mood to talk and he would undoubtedly have a multitude of questions for her that he would not want to answer. He opened the door as he saw her approaching and opened his mouth, but she quickly cut him off. "No."

He opened his mouth to try again and-

"No, Mycroft."

Once more, with a sigh-

"Mycroft Holmes, I said no and I meant no and making me angry isn't going to make me say yes," Rose grounded out.

The eldest Holmes chuckled despite himself. The sound of it threw Rose off for a second, giving him the much needed opportunity to actually say a few words. "You sounded just like Mother," Mycroft told her. He expected the comment to make her smile, as Rose often liked to talk about Mother, and was alarmed when instead she looked very sad. Taking the bags out of her hands, Mycroft set them on the floor before wrapping both arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Who do I need to make disappear poppet?" he murmured, feeling very concerned.

Rose sighed softly, soaking in the comfort of her brother's warm, caring tone. "I miss Mum; I wish she was here," she whispered.

Inwardly, Mycroft groaned. If she wished for Mother it had to have something to do with womanly problems or relationship problems, though he was certain he'd be aware of it if Rose was in a relationship with anyone. Still, problems on either of those fronts were not his forte. "I would do anything in the world for you," he said sincerely. "But that is the one thing I cannot give you."

"I know," Rose admitted. "But I still wish she was here all the same." After letting out another sigh, she looked up at Mycroft and gave him a small smile. "So you could give me a duchy if I wanted one?"

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, I can't guarantee I could get you one of those either. I could get you knighted, but you'd have to do something in service to the Crown before I could whisper in Her Majesty's ear about it." He kissed her forehead before holding her at arm's length. "You look exhausted; exhausted and overwrought. To bed with you I think. I'll carry your things up."

Rose gave Mycroft a tremulous smile and headed up the stairs to her old bedroom. The familiarity of it as she walked in the door was comforting a way she hadn't thought possible. It was homey, safe, and filled with good memories of cuddles, bedtime stories and sleepovers.

"Get ready for bed; I'll be up in a few minutes to check on you. I want to make certain you don't pass out on the floor, that's how awful you look," Mycroft admitted. He disappeared from the room, deciding to make some tea while Rose changed. When it was ready, he knocked on the door and brought a tray into the room with him.

"You and your polka dots," Mycroft muttered, taking in her pink pajamas with brown polka dots. "I blame Mother entirely for that. I told her your nursery needed color and patterns for stimulating your brain and she goes to the shops, returning home with horrific looking lady bugs on everything and dots everywhere."

"They weren't horrific," Rose replied with a tired giggle. "They just weren't anatomically correct is all. And I like my dots, all my dots."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and handed her a cup of tea. "Chamomile, drink it up and then bedtime. I'll unpack your things," he offered. "Unless there are unmentionables in there?" He gave the bags a dark look as if trying to discern through the fabric whether or not there were undergarments and other clothing items that would frighten him inside.

"I don't have a bedtime," she reminded him. "And obviously there are unmentionables in there! Do you think I walk around London without pants or something? I'm not Sherlock." Rose sipped at her tea,

"Well thank god for that," Mycroft murmured, sitting down beside her on the bed after grabbing his own cup of tea. "How long are you staying?"

Rose shrugged. "Few days, I suppose; until after the reception." It was Thursday night and the reception was Saturday evening, which would give her a couple days to think about whether or not she wanted to return to Baker Street.

"You may stay as long as you wish," Mycroft said quietly. "This will always be your home, no matter how old you are. Even if you're 97. Though by that time I'm sure you'll have inherited it from me and it will be yours in name but, in any case, the door is always open for you poppet. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, fine," she tried to reassure him, already half asleep. "Can I go to bed now?"

Mycroft chuckled and took the tea cup from her. "I think that would be for the best. I'll put your bags at the end of the bed. What time do you need to be up in the morning?"

As soon as the tea cup was removed from her hands and the bags disappeared, Rose flopped over on the bed, closing her eyes. "Mobile alarm set," she murmured.

"No, no, you sleep in the bed, not on top of it," Mycroft gently scolded. He waited until she got up and then pulled back the duvet, inwardly delighted that he got to tuck her in. Had Rose been fully awake and more like herself, he doubted she would let him. When she was under the covers, he tucked them around her tightly and brushed stray curls away from her face before kissing her forehead. "Sleep well poppet."

Her only response was a murmuring of something that didn't quite make sense, causing Mycroft to smile fondly at her as he shut off the light and headed back downstairs. Once he was seated in his study again, Mycroft retrieved his mobile and sent a text to Sherlock.

'Rose is here. Why? M'

'Working. She still in one piece? SH'

'Remarkably so and while I can see you are working, that is not an answer to my question. M'

'What do you mean that you can see that I am? SH'

Mycroft smirked. 'What do you think I mean little brother? M'

'This is the morgue! You're completely insufferable! SH'

'Be that as it may, none of this answers the original question. M'

'No, I don't know why she isn't at Baker Street. Have you tried asking her? SH'

'She refuses to tell me, hence the need to ask you. M'

'I have no answer for you; please do stop your incessant texting. SH'

'Any ideas at all? She's not quite herself. M'

'On my way back to Baker Street. Will ask John and let you know. SH'

It was nearly 2am before Sherlock returned to Baker Street, riding the immediate natural high that accompanied solving a case, particularly one for Lestrade, proving all those idiots at NSY and their theories wrong. Upon his return, with little regard for the time, he immediately went upstairs to John's room, intent on questioning his flatmate.

"Why did Rose go to Mycroft's?" he asked after prodding the man awake.

John rolled over and began rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, trying to clear his vision. He looked over the alarm clock beside his bed and groaned. "Do you see what time it is?"

"I do and it is immaterial," Sherlock replied, annoyed at John's brain taking so long to flicker back to life after what was probably only a brief sleep. "Why did Rose leave?" He watched in fascination as John's face began to color.

"She… well… uh," John began, trying to find a way to say it that wouldn't sound awful. When Sherlock started making noises of impatience, he finally just spit it out. "She walked in on Sarah and me, in the sitting room, rather uh… enjoying ourselves." He inwardly cringed when Sherlock's only response was a quirked eyebrow, knowing he would need to elaborate more than he was comfortable with. "I was trying to get off with Sarah and we hadn't made it upstairs yet. But we were still fully clothed… er…mostly."

"John!" Sherlock scolded. "Keep your activities to your bedroom; I would prefer my sister not be exposed to your sexual repertoire that earned you the moniker John "Three Continents" Watson! No wonder she left, I'm certain that was very upsetting for her. She's an innocent!"

The doctor gaped at his friend for several long seconds. "Sherlock, she's twenty! I'm sure she's-" He abruptly stopped speaking as the detective gave him a positively frightening glare and John immediately began to backtrack. "Yeah, you're right. I tried to apologize, but she left. I'm sure she'll be back though, yeah?" He tried to sound optimistic, but Sherlock merely made a slight humming noise and suddenly exited the bedroom, heading for his own.

'Rose walked in on John and Sarah as they were attempting to engage in intercourse. SH'

Across London, the oldest Holmes looked at his mobile and groaned. 'That's unfortunate. M'

'Do you think I should speak with her about it? M' Mycroft made a face as he envisioned the sort of conversation that would take place.

'Only if you want to answer awkward questions. SH'

'God no! M'

'Then don't bring it up and spare yourself the agony. SH'

Friday flew by in a whirlwind of paperwork and dancing that left Rose's body thoroughly exhausted and her mind blissfully occupied by things other than John. Before she even knew it, Saturday had arrived and she woke up to the sun shining brightly in her window, at the lovely time of 10am. What a luxury to sleep in and not be at the studio right that moment! She lingered in bed a few more minutes before heading downstairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she entered the kitchen and found her brother still at the small kitchen table with his tea and a newspaper.

"You couldn't manage to get dressed before you came to the table?" Mycroft asked, looking up briefly from the newspaper.

Rose shook her head, pushing a pile of curls away from her eyes. "Coffee?" She sat down in a chair and put her head down on the table. "Coffee?"

"There's none made at the moment-" Mycroft paused and frowned at his sister when she made a strange sort of whining noise at that statement. "But I suppose I can make you some if you stop making that noise." He put down his newspaper and crossed the room to get the coffee maker started. The Keurig worked fast and soon he had a hot cup of coffee made just the way Rose liked it that he brought back to the table, along with a blueberry muffin.

"Anthea will be here at 1:30 with your gown and shoes. She's also going to whisk you away for a bit," Mycroft told her as he sat down.

It wasn't until she had a few fortifying drinks of her warm caffeine liquid before she responded to her brother. "Where am I going?" Rose asked curiously.

"To do all the horribly tedious things women do in preparation for a special event," Mycroft replied. "Anthea has you booked for a massage and a good all around pampering for this evening. Hair, make-up, whatever else women do." Mycroft made a noise of dismissal that made Rose giggle. Her brother was as particular about his appearance as most women were; he just didn't take as long as the average woman to look as he wished to.

"Ah, this is going to be like a fairytale, I think," Rose decided with a bright smile. "You're my favorite brother right now, just so you know. Only don't tell Sherlock! I've always wanted to be a princess for a day."

Mycroft chuckled and smiled a bit. "Well you won't actually be one, even if you're going to be treated this as though you are this afternoon, keep that in mind!"

While Rose was off with Anthea being thoroughly spoilt, Mycroft had an errand to run and hurried out of the house to make certain he returned before Rose did. Having sent Rose in his usual car with his usual driver, Mycroft used his own car to drive to a high end jeweler where he was greeted with great enthusiasm. People always greeted with him such exuberance when he was spending money.

"Best open the box and take a look before you complete your purchase," a young woman instructed. "These are for a special lady, are they not?"

Mycroft opened the jewelry box and examined the contents, smiling with satisfaction. "Yes, they are for a very special young lady indeed." After producing his bank card and signing the receipt, he tucked the box into his pocket and returned home.

"I've never felt so relaxed in all my life," Rose murmured to Anthea. "You're fabulous."

Anthea laughed softly. "Your brother told me you've been working very hard for your competition. I thought you might enjoy a bit of time to relax and let someone work magic on you with their hands."

Rose nodded. "I very much did. This has actually been a lot of fun, even when you were on your blackberry. The world still intact?"

"For the moment," Anthea quipped, giving the young woman a smile. It had not been a difficult job at all to take Rose for a massage and lunch before setting off to one of London's best salons and let her have a mani/pedi, and get hair and make-up done for the event. If only all her work could be so easy! Then again, she'd be terribly bored if it was. There was something very exciting about the work she did for Mycroft Holmes. "Hopefully it will hold itself together long enough to finish getting you ready."

With a smile, Rose opened the front door and led Anthea up to her bedroom where her dress, shoes and clutch were waiting for her. She quickly stripped off her day clothes and accepted Anthea's assistance in getting into the dress without smudging her make-up.

"You look gorgeous," Anthea compliment. "Come on, let's show your brother and then it's on your way to the palace!"

Mycroft was waiting in the sitting room, slowly pacing back and forth, trying his best not to be impatient. They had plenty of time, but he was impatient to give her the gift he brought back from the jewelers. Then he could hear the sounds of her excited chattering floating down the stairs and he turned to watch her come down.

Rose was wearing a royal blue gown with a wrapped v-neck top that flowed into an a-line skirt that floated just slightly as she walked. On her feet were black silk-like heels; her make-up was light and natural, allowing her own beauty to shine through and be enhanced rather than covered, the colors of it perfectly suited for her dress and eyes. Her hair was partly up in a half-crown braid, the rest of her curls loose.

"Do I pass muster?" Rose asked, giving her brother a little twirl. Neither of the siblings noticed when Anthea slipped out the door.

"You look… So very grown up," Mycroft murmured, stunned by just how mature and beautiful his baby sister looked.

She blushed with pleasure at his words. "I feel like a princess," Rose admitted with a giggle, thoroughly ruining her grown-up aura.

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, that's the little girl I know. But you're not quite ready to go just yet."

"I'm not?" Rose looked down at herself: shoes, check; dress properly on, check; clutch, check. "What's missing?" She felt even more confused when her brother merely crooked his finger at her, beckoning her over to the fireplace. As she came to stand beside him, she saw a wrapped gift with her name on it.

"You're just a bit underdressed, poppet," Mycroft told her. "Open it and you'll find what you're missing."

Tearing away the wrapping paper, Rose discovered a velvet jewelry box and ran her finger across it before gently opening it. There among the cushions in the box were the most exquisite earrings she had ever seen: teardrop sapphires nestled in a setting of diamonds that somehow reminded her of snowflakes. Beside the earrings was a necklace, with one teardrop sapphire to match. A soft gasped escaped before Rose could manage to respond verbally. "Oh my god," she gasped. "Mycroft! Oh my god!" She whirled around to face him, completely shocked. "Are these real?"

"Are they real?!" Mycroft exclaimed. "Of course they're real! Good heavens Rose, what a way to ruin a gift!"

Rose had the good grace to blush. "Sorry. I just don't know what to say. These are amazing. Are you sure I'm worth all this? They must have cost you a small fortune!" She could hardly believe that her brother had bought her such a lovely gift and she felt a warm glow of love flow through her, feeling in that moment so very, very special.

"You've always cost me fortunes of money, what's one fortune more?" Mycroft asked, giving her a smile. "Besides, don't all princesses need their jewels?"

He barely finished his question before his arms were full of Rose as she hugged him tightly and thanked him several times in quick succession. "You're worth every fortune in the world Rosenwyn Holmes, and never let anyone tell you otherwise," he whispered in her ear.

After holding her close for a moment, Mycroft held her at arm's length. "Put your jewelry on princess," he teased. If anyone ever asked if that word, princess, had ever passed his lips, Mycroft would deny it to his dying day. But if Rose wanted to feel like a princess tonight, he would do nothing to discourage it. He couldn't resist smiling as she ran off to the loo.

"Will you help me with the necklace? I can't see the clasp back there," Rose asked when she returned. When he nodded, she handed Mycroft the jewelry box and turned around, lifting her hair.

"I have a small confession to make about your jewelry," Mycroft said as he fastened the necklace.

"They're borrowed aren't they?"

Mycroft chuckled. "No, not even close. They are yours to keep. The confession is that they aren't entirely new. The sapphires belonged to Mother but they were in absolutely hideous settings from the late 70s. I had them put into these new settings."

Rose turned around to face him again, breaking into a wide, open smile. "That just makes it all the better, you know. Are we ready?"

"We're ready," he confirmed. "The car is waiting for us."

As they pulled up to the palace, Rose gaped as she looked out the window. Oh, she'd been to the palace before. More than once in fact! Although the first time she had not been paying any attention to anything other than making that awful PA get her to Mycroft. She'd also only been four and what four year old really appreciates the splendor of a palace as grand as Buckingham Palace was? But she had never visited an evening when dusk was beginning to settle and the palace was all lit up. It was really a sight to behold. Rose looked over at Mycroft, wondering if he was as enchanted by the sight as she was, only to find him seemingly disinterested.

"You're weird," Rose decided.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, a frown settled on his features. "How so, sister mine?"

"This is lovely and exciting and you look bored. "

"Because it is boring. Tedious dinner, wretched small talk, horrific dance skills, bland polite smiles. Completely boring," Mycroft explained, already sounding exasperated before they'd even exited the car.

"Oh, you poor put upon dear," Rose mocked. "Having to get all dressed up fancy, have dinner in a palace and dance the night away. All the goldfish you must suffer through, for such a wonderful cause. You know, the country you try so hard to protect? Yeah, poor baby, I feel so sad for you."

Mycroft scowled this time rather than frown. "Such impertinence. That's why I brought you, by the way, to help me survive the goldfish."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about that. No promises, mind you," Rose replied with a bright grin.

Several moments later, with her arm hooked through Mycroft's, the pair entered the palace and made their way to the reception line. "Oh my gosh, is that Wills?" Rose whispered, standing on her tip toes to see up ahead.

"Don't you dare call him that," Mycroft hissed. "But yes, it appears to be him. The Prince of Wales was scheduled to attend but does not appear to be here. Likely the Duke is taking his place. Try not to embarrass either of us, will you?"

"I'll try," Rose said sincerely. She barely resisted bouncing on her toes in excitement. The palace was as amazing as one could imagine, there were so many people in a wide array of colors and clothing styles, and she couldn't wait to see the main area for the event. Somehow, she managed to control herself, but only just!

As they approached the Queen and the Duke of Cambridge, Mycroft found himself hoping that Rose remembered how to curtsey properly and wouldn't fall over. He soon realized he had no cause to worry on that score, as Rose executed a perfect curtsey in front of each of the royals.

"So lovely to see you my dear!" the Queen greeted Rose.

"And you as well, your Majesty," Rose responded with a smile. "Thank you for whispering in Mycroft's ear that I should be invited."

The Queen laughed and gave her a smile before turning to greet Mycroft. Rose made her courtesy in front of the Duke of Cambridge and was greeted with a wide smile.

"Ah, Mycroft," William said with a smile. "My father sends his best. He's a bit under the weather this evening."

"How unfortunate. Do give him my best in return," Mycroft said sincerely.

"Now, Mycroft… Isn't this one a bit young for you?" William asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he indicated Rose. "Tsk tsk, robbing cradles!"

Mycroft could feel his face going a bit red and wanted nothing more than to throttle the young royal, but of course did no such thing. "It is my pleasure to introduce you to my sister, Rosenwyn Holmes," he finally said in an even tone, giving the younger man a tight smile.

It took everything Rose had in her to keep from laughing hysterically as her brother's face began flushing red. "I think you're my favorite person in the world right now, your highness," she said with just a bit of a giggle.

William chuckled and gave her a grin. "Excellent! Will you save me a dance then? With your permission of course," he added, looking to Mycroft.

The eldest Holmes nodded as Rose gushed out, "I'd be so honored! I look forward to it."

"I'll collect you for the supper dance then. Mycroft, you can escort Gran in to supper in my stead?" William chuckled.

"Certainly," Mycroft quickly agreed. He hustled Rose along a bit to keep the greeting line moving, giving William and the Queen a parting nod before taking Rose into the reception room.

"What's the itinerary?" Rose asked as she surveyed the grand room with wide eyes. What must it be like to grow up in such a place?

"Bit of a social hour until the greetings are finished and then the dancing will begin. Typically there are four dances, followed by supper and further dancing. It's a goodwill function, for all the diplomats and others, such as myself, to mingle and make nice," Mycroft explained. "Do play nicely with everyone, Rose, the Duke of Cambridge in particular."

"I will, I promise. I won't embarrass you," Rose promised, giving him a smile.

"Then I suppose it's time to mingle and show you off."

Rose played her part to perfection. She smiled, laughed politely at bad jokes, shook hands, engaged in conversation on a wide variety of topics and even showed off her considerable language skill in order to converse with those less comfortable with English. Before the dancing had even begun, Rose was a brilliant success and was even eyed by several men. His little sister was nothing short of glamorous and Mycroft couldn't be more proud even if he tried! Ever the older brother, however, Mycroft made certain to send very hard, meaningful looks at several men who had been flirting and looking to get her attention. He knew without a doubt that they knew he was silently warning them not to go near her. It wasn't that he objected to Rose dating or receiving appropriate attention from members of the opposite sex, but over his dead body would she become involved with a diplomat or politician. She'd make a wonderful wife to someone with such a job, as Rose's considerable skill had shown him, but Mycroft knew far too much about that murky world to want her anywhere even remotely near it.

"I see you're winning hearts and minds as per usual," Mycroft commented as he led her onto the dance floor for the opening waltz.

"How am I doing?" Rose asked eagerly. They easily fell into step with one another, the height difference helped a bit by the height of her heels.

Mycroft smiled down at her proudly. "You're nothing short of amazing, sister mine. I'll have to bring you more often. Can you even imagine the trial of it?"

"Oh, it would be positively monstrous," Rose assured him. "The shopping and dancing and pampering, really Mycroft, are you trying to torture your poor innocent sister?"

The eldest Holmes just barely resisted snorting in response to her comment. "Which sister would that be? Surely not mine. She stopped being sweet and innocent right around nine months old." Mycroft smiled as she laughed and shook her head.

After the first dance ended, Rose was immediately claimed by the Prime Minister for the next and by the French ambassador for the one after that. She was in the midst of having to turn down several eager diplomats of varying ages for the supper dance when the Duke of Cambridge was suddenly beside her.

"I do believe you promised me the supper dance, Miss Holmes," William said, holding out his hand for her. He grinned when she placed her hand in it and let him lead her out onto the floor. "You're having a grand time, aren't you? I don't think I've seen anyone enjoy one of these gatherings so much in ages," he admitted.

"It's the dancing," Rose laughed. "Plus there's always an element of fun dressing up and spending time in this beautiful palace."

"Playing princess for the day then?" William asked, giving her a smile when she nodded. "You're doing wonderfully. It is unfortunate Kate didn't accompany me tonight; I think she'd like you. Then again, it's sort of a family sport to find ways to make Mycroft uncomfortable if you haven't picked up on that."

"I have. I think that's why her Majesty likes me. When I came visiting uninvited one time ages ago, I told her that Mycroft poked our brother Sherlock with his brolly when Sherlock was annoying him," Rose admitted with a giggle.

"I've heard that story," William admitted with laugh.

Long before she wanted it to be over, the dance ended and Rose was escorted in to the dinner on his arm, much to the astonishment of nearly everyone else in attendance. "You like causing trouble, don't you?" Rose whispered.

"I do and I think you do too," he teased in response. "Here is your seat, please allow me to make introductions. Miss Rose Holmes, this is Birk Carlsson, the diplomat from Sweden and here on your right is Barna Rezsx from Hungary." William pulled out the chair and made sure Rose took her seat before proceeding to his own.

Rose and Rezsx immediately continued their conversation from earlier in the evening, attempting to draw Carlsson into their talk as well. Carlsson was very interested, but not particularly in the conversation, but rather Rose in particular. An unmarried man in his mid-thirties, he found the very elegant and effusive Rose alluring and tried to very discreetly alert her to the attraction.

First Carlsson began nudging her foot with his own and discovered that perhaps he was being too subtle. He continued on in the same vein, this time rubbing his leg against hers in an unmistakable manner.

The problem wasn't that he was too subtle to get Rose's attention; it was the fact that she did not want that type of attention. She politely ignored the foot nudging and silently moved over a bit in her seat, closer to the Hungarian diplomat to avoid the Swede's leg rubbing as best she could.

Rose looked for Mycroft, who was seated across the table and several seats closer to the Queen, but he was absorbed in conversations of his own. Well, she was an adult, she could deal with it all on her own and decided to give Carlsson the 'cut direct', mentally utilizing her knowledge of regency era cant, and ignored him completely in favor of her far more polite and respectful dinner partner.

Carlsson wasn't quite willing to take no for an answer and rather than receive the message Rose was trying to give him, he became bolder. He placed his hand on her thigh and slowly began moving that hand upwards.

More than a little annoyed, Rose skillfully jabbed the heel of her shoes into Carlsson's foot. He gave a little yip that caused more than a few heads to turn in their direction and the Hungarian diplomat, Rezsx, to look slightly alarmed and inquire under his breath in Magyar if Rose was alright.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you sir," Rose responded, keeping a pleasant smile on her face. "Though I thank you for your concern." She sipped at the champagne in her glass and proceeded to completely ignore Carlsson for the remainder of the meal while inwardly bemoaning the stupidity of the male sex.

With supper ended and two more dances under her belt, Rose put the unpleasant incident aside and continued to impress both her brother and everyone she came into contact with. She had far more dance partners than she even knew what to do with and practiced her own brand of diplomacy as she was forced to choose just one man per dance.

After a few more dances, however, Rose found herself in need of the loo and excused herself from the dance floor. She discreetly asked one of the staff for its location and made her way to the edge of the room towards the appropriate hallway. Just as she crossed from the room into the hallway, someone yanked her behind a large, thick curtain.

Mycroft was dancing with the prime minister's wife, listening to her talk about the children and their latest misadventure with the family dog, making him thankful they never added a dog to the chaos that was the Holmes residence when Sherlock and Rose were young. Such thoughts made him seek out his sister, his eyes scanning the ballroom for her, expecting to find her yet again partnering some dignitary in another spot on the floor. He felt a stab of alarm when he was unable to spot her dancing or near the refreshment area. He'd seen her just a moment ago, two at most!

Suddenly there was a scuffle at the edge of the room and Mycroft's heart filled with dread. Not Rose, not now, not after she'd done so very well all evening and made him so very proud. He prayed that it wasn't his Rose, but apparently no one was listening to his prayers.

Taking full advantage of the small amount of privacy from the main area that the curtain offered, Carlsson shoved Rose up against the wall. He pressed his body against hers and began murmuring what were probably poetic expressions about her eyes or hair or some sort of idiotic drivel but Rose did not speak Swedish. All she knew was that this man was bodily holding her to the wall and clearly intended some sort of sexual encounter with her.

"Let me go, please, let me go. I'm not comfortable with this, let me go!" Rose said firmly, trying to push him away from her. Carlsson ignored her protests, whether or not he even understood the words, and the noise of the reception drowned out much of Rose's protests, leaving her no choice but to defend herself. Already predisposed to hate anyone of the male sex after the debacle with John, having her personal space so rudely invaded and sexual advances clearly being made to her person by yet another member of the male sex, Rose used her pent up anger as ammunition. She managed to get her arm in the right position to pull back and her fist slammed into the man's nose as Rose gave him one hell of a right hook.

Carlsson stumbled away from her, trying to stop the flow of blood from his nose. Suddenly all the noise in the area had stopped and every pair of eyes was turned in their direction just in time to see him stumbling away from Rose, bloodied, while she shook out her right hand.

How Mycroft crossed the room at such a high rate of speed he had no idea but before anyone could do more than gasp and make other unhelpful noises, he was at Rose's side, angrier than perhaps he'd ever been before. He took a firm hold on her arm and began pulling her away from the corner of the room towards the exit. "We're leaving right now. Don't say even a word; I don't want to hear anything from you at all. Never have I been so humiliated in my entire life," he hissed into her ear. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone running towards them and turned to discover it was the Duke of Cambridge. Before the younger man could even say a word, Mycroft spoke first. "Give her majesty my sincerest apologies and assure her this will be dealt with in an appropriate manner. Excuse us." He did not wait to see if William had anything to say in response.

"Mycroft, Mycroft, you have to understand, he was-" Rose began when they exited the palace, only to be quickly cut off her by her irate brother.

"You cannot help yourself, can you? You have absolutely no control over your own behavior, do you? You never stop to think, you just act on impulse. This isn't a scuffle at school Rose," Mycroft growled at her as they headed for the car. "In the space of thirty seconds you have single handedly managed to strain relations between Sweden and Britain. That has to be a record, Rosenwyn. Are you quite proud of yourself? The relationship between our countries survived two world wars, numerous terror threats and untold international pressure, but not one single evening with Rose Holmes."

Rose opened her mouth to try and explain once more but couldn't even get a word out.

"Say. Nothing. I have never been more disappointed in you than I am right in this moment and if you don't want to everyone to hear me scolding you, I suggest you keep your mouth shut," Mycroft said, his voice rising a bit now that they were further away from the palace. After a moment or so longer of hurried walking in silence, they located their car and Mycroft opened the door for her. "Get in the car and don't say a word. Not a single solitary word."

For once in her life, Rose obeyed without question and got in the car without saying a word. This was not her fairytale evening; it was a fairytale gone all wrong.

NOTE: Dear Readers! Mycroft has no details of what happened between Rose and the diplomat and only knows that she managed to assault said diplomat for seemingly no reason and potentially strained relations with Sweden. What do you think Mycroft's reaction should be based on his (limited) knowledge of the situation? I want to hear your thoughts and ideas!