"So, next Thursday, you're off to your competition, yeah?" Greg confirmed over coffee in his office on a Friday morning.

"Yep and I'm going to win it too, you wait and see! Sadly that means you'll have to find your own macchiato that morning, poor dear detective-inspector," Rose teased before sipping her own. "This macchiato thing is pretty good. Not as good as my usual, but I feel like I've expanded my horizons by trying it."

Greg smiled and opened his mouth to say something but paused when he noticed a sort of hush had fallen over the floor of the department. It took him only a few seconds to realize what had caused the sudden quiet as Sally Donovan came into view as she strode with determination towards his office.

Rose's gaze had followed Greg's and the moment she had been dreading had arrived. She watched as Sally crossed the room, taking in her smart business suit and heels, and the reasonably attractive face that was frowning more and more as the woman came closer to the office. "She is definitely unhappy," Rose murmured.

"Sally! Nice to see you," Greg greeted the sergeant when she stepped into the office. "You're looking well. Sit down," he offered, indicating the chair next to Rose.

"What's this, then?" Sally demanded to know. She didn't take the offered seat, but rather stood in the doorway giving Rose a look of contempt.

Greg frowned at his sergeant. "Sally, sit down." His tone was more insistent this time but Sally continued to ignore him. "Rose works here. She's my assistant; types up reports and does filing and all that sort of thing. She's a good worker Sally and you'll be nice to her. Rose has promised to be nice to you in return." It felt a little bit like telling misbehaving children to go to separate corners and cool off, which really wasn't the sort of atmosphere he wanted to have in the department.

Before Sally could respond, Rose held out her hand in the woman's direction. "No hard feelings, okay?" She kept her voice even, hoping the woman would respond in kind, but after what felt like a very long minute, but was really only about thirty seconds, it was clear that Sally had no intention of shaking her hand.

Her gesture made Greg smile but Sally's refusal to even acknowledge the friendly attempt at smoothing things over made him frown.

"Collecting pets now?" Sally inquired. Before Greg could respond, she turned her sharp tongue on Rose. "You can leave now, little pet, the grown-ups want to talk." She smirked when Rose's face went red and she hurriedly left the office, closing the door behind her. Only then did Sally sit down.

"That was unkind Sally, and out of line," Greg scolded. "She's a kid, and a good kid at that. What's more she's a hard worker and done a lot of good around here at keeping us up to date with our paperwork. She doesn't deserve your contempt and anger, especially when you were just as much at fault at that crime scene as she was. I'd warned you over and over again, identify yourself or one day it's going to come back and bite you in the arse. Lo-and-behold, I was right, wasn't I?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

"She got me transferred Greg and you just let it happen," Sally said, crossing her arms defensively. "I don't enjoy undercover work, especially when it involves an extended period of time. Then I come back and she's here, your new little pet project? Don't tell me you didn't think I'd mind." Greg had to know her better than that, Sally was sure of it.

"She did not facilitate your transfer Sally. That's completely ridiculous," Greg told her bluntly. "I saw the orders myself, they came from well above my pay grade and in addition to that, it was something you were well qualified for. I was hardly in a position to say no."

"Maybe she didn't, but that brother of hers had to be involved somehow," Sally retorted.

Greg had harbored suspicions of his own that Mycroft Holmes had had his hands in the very sudden appearance of an assignment that required Sally's participation so shortly after the crime scene debacle. Having suspicions was one thing, proving them was another, and from all that he knew of Mycroft it would be impossible to trace the order back to him in any way.

"Then take that up with Mycroft," Greg suggested with a shrug. "I won't stop you. I don't think it would be a good line of inquiry to take, to be honest, but that is entirely up to you. In the meantime, don't take your anger out on Rose, who had absolutely nothing to do with that, whether or not her brother was involved." Before Sally could respond, he got up from his desk and brought Rose back into the office.

"Now look, I'm not asking either of you to be friends, alright? But I'm not going to be your keepers either. You're both adult women and can manage to work in the same environment without killing each other, and frankly I don't want to deal with it if you do kill each other. This department is about solving murders, not making them, so let's keep it that way. Besides, it would look really bad for our stats if we started manufacturing our own murders," Greg pointed out. "So I expect you both to behave professionally while you're here. Is that understood?"

Both Sally and Rose nodded, confirming that it was in fact understood. Whether or not they'd stick to it or make his life miserable, Greg wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to look for extra trouble to deal with.

Sally Donovan, however, had other ideas. She had no desire to murder Greg's little pet, as she mentally referred to Rose, but that didn't mean she wouldn't extract a little payback here and there for having her life turned upside down for months of an undercover investigation. Harmless little things that would go unnoticed but would ultimately give her a bit of satisfaction. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

If there was one thing that Rose hated perhaps more than anything else, or at least more than anything else she could think of at that moment, it was being patronized. And Sally Donovan could patronize with the best of them. Ever since mid-morning she had run Rose ragged, giving her every possible task that she could get away with giving and Greg had been no help at all; not that she'd really bothered to complain. After all, most of that Rose had been retrieving or copying or looking for in the case archives were items that Greg would need to look at eventually so she kept her mouth shut and did it for him. He was always much nicer about sending her off to find things though, and rarely sent her to the archives in the depths of the building. He had officers for that sort of thing.

Sally, however, had no compunction in ordering Rose around. "Kid, I need a box from old case storage. H. Beaumont, 1998," she announced, stopping by Rose's desk. "Hop to it."

"I'm working on something for Greg," Rose replied, indicating a particular report she was writing up. "Is it high priority or can it wait ten minutes?"

"If it could wait ten minutes, I'd wait another ten and ask you, wouldn't I?" Sally quipped, sounding more than a little annoyed. "You Holmes lot think you own the world, don't you?" This was hissed under her breath a bit, but was loud enough that Rose caught it all the same. "You're an assistant and I'm a sergeant, so start assisting, now."

With a huff Rose left what she was working on and headed down to the archives to search for the specific case. It took her more than twenty minutes to finally locate the heavy boxed and heft it back upstairs. It was a good thing the building had lifts or neither Rose nor the box would likely have been seen again, meeting their death on the staircase. Finally she made it to Sally's desk with the box.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled, giving Rose a dark look. "Wait, what is this? This isn't the box I asked for!"

Rose's jaw dropped. "Yes, it is. You said H. Beaumont 1998, and that is this box. It was the only box with this label there and it took me ages to find."

"No, I told you H. Beaulieu 1988. We're trying to solve a case here, you know, and this is wasting time. Now bring this back down and don't come back until you've got the right box," Sally ordered sternly. "Go on then!" She smirked as Rose grumbled and stalked back off with the box.

"Sally," Greg said, pulling Sally out of her delight at Rose's discomfort. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Rose is my assistant, not yours, yeah? And those boxes are quite heavy. Send an officer next time you need case files that are going to be that size."

Sally inwardly groaned but nodded. "Sure thing, boss. She didn't complain though."

"She wouldn't," Greg admitted. "She's too stubborn."

Trying hard to be the bigger person, and be more professional than that awful Sally, Rose struggled to keep from losing her temper all day long and was more than a little sick of that woman by the time she finished for the day. During all her time running hither and yon, an idea, a bit of a prank, had occurred to her and as the day wore on, she was convinced that she should utilize this scathingly brilliant idea and get just a wee bit of harmless revenge. In order to pull it off, however, Rose would need a bit of help and hoped to find it among the IT department.

Before leaving for the day, she stopped into the IT department and waited to be noticed. When she was, Rose waved at the man, giving him a brilliant smile, and waited patiently for the man to make his way over to her.

"Hi! I'm Rose, I'm Greg Lestrade's assistant," she introduced herself, offering her hand.

"Bob Greer, nice to meet you," the man in his late twenties replied, shaking her hand. "What can I do for you Rose?"

"Well, I've got a bit of an unusual request," she admitted, beginning to blush just a bit. "And feel free to say no, but I've been dying to play a harmless little prank on someone in our division and could use your help…"

"There's my girl," Sherlock murmured several hours later as the door to the flat opened. He didn't even need to look at the door, he could tell by the footfalls coming up the stairs that it was Rose. He smiled when Rose came right over to him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for texting that you'd be later than usual," he said sincerely.

"I don't have to, but I thought it would be courteous," Rose explained, kissing his cheek.

"No, you don't have to," Sherlock confirmed. If it came down to it he could track her mobile, but he much preferred that she communicate with him when her schedule changed, especially late at night. "But I'm glad you did, I worry."

"And I'm glad you worry. Means I'm loved," Rose smiled before moving away to start tea.

"I'll take a cup," Sherlock commented. "What kept you late? Being a perfectionist and driving poor Alfred insane?"

Rose shook her head. "No, we're doing really, really well. We're going to win Sherlock, I know it. We've got it this time around." She carefully avoided answering the main question, considering the truthful answer was one Sherlock wouldn't like. She'd stayed a bit later at the studio, taking a half hour to ice her side in the girls' locker room and allow the ibuprofen to kick in.

"So I should expect more late nights before your competition? Will you be giving yourself a bit of a holiday afterwards?" Sherlock inquired, even as he turned his attention back to the mold cultures he was growing.

"Probably should expect some more, yeah," Rose admitted. "And I do plan a brief holiday, though not from teaching or working for Greg, just from super intense competition practice. You're still coming, right? You and John both?"

Sherlock nodded. "Mycroft said you uninvited him and was quite put out by it."

Rose giggled. "There are a few dances, the samba in particular, that I think would thoroughly horrify him. As in 'I need to rush up to Rose and drape a blanket over her scantily clad body and make her stop these unladylike movements' sort of horrify. It's for the best, trust me."

"Did you cut that move from your tango routine that I told you to? I was seriously concerned Alfred was going to injure you doing it," Sherlock commented. When Rose remained silent, he looked up at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Tea? Rose offered, holding out the cup towards him.

Taking the tea he set it down before crooking his finger at her. He watched her hesitate just briefly before closing the space between them. "You didn't take it out, did you? You're the most stubborn little idiot," he murmured when Rose's face flushed, though his tone was not without a considerable amount of affection. "Rosenwyn, if you get hurt because of that, I'm going to be very angry with you. You had plenty of time to redo the routine without that in it and there's no reason to take unnecessary risks like that."

"It's a winning move," Rose protested. "You know it is Sherlock. The more advanced we show ourselves to be the better our chances of winning."

"You're going to win alright; win a trip right across my knee if you get hurt and I mean that. You're not allowed to break your foolish neck. At least not on my watch, do it on Mycroft's instead if you absolutely have to," Sherlock grumbled.

Rose giggled, ignoring the stab of pain she could feel in her left side for doing so. "Mycroft wouldn't thank you for that sentiment you know."

"Mycroft never thanks me for anything," Sherlock replied, even though that wasn't necessarily the truth. Or at least not always the truth at any rate. He pulled Rose closer to him and leaned down to kiss her head. "We only have one of you, you know," he whispered, even though there was no one besides the two of them to hear it.

"Remember that yourself the next time you go chasing some maniac or jumping in front of lorries or betting that the guy with the gun won't really shoot you," Rose suggested with a cheeky grin.

The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of practice and soon it was Monday. Rose arrived at the Met with coffee for herself and Greg, as per usual, and sat at her desk to await the reaction to her little prank. The scathingly brilliant idea she'd come up with and recruit Bob from IT's help with was actually very simple. Printscreen the screen, save it as a photo and copy/paste it as the background; hide all the folders and task bar away so only the recycling bin remained, and watch chaos ensue as the victim was unable to access anything at all. It was simple but brilliant and Rose couldn't wait to see how Sally's reaction. She was not disappointed. Sally came in and sat down at her desk and attempted to open a web browser to check her email and daily reports, but it wouldn't work. She tried to open a file and that wouldn't work either. Much angry mouse clicking ensued as she tried repeatedly to double click and open something, anything at all. When that failed, it was followed by banging the entire mouse on the desk, the sound of which was accompanied by grunts of anger as Sally was thwarted in each and every attempt.

This, Rose thought to herself, was how you waged war in the 21st century. Divide and conquer via the impairing of your foe's electronic devices. Sherlock would be so proud of her when she told him about this!

By now the entire division was silent aside from the noise Sally was making as they watched the sergeant lose her cool over a computer problem. Finally, just as Sally threw the mouse onto the desk hard enough to crack it, Greg decided enough was enough. "Alright, alright, we'll get IT up here to fix this," he assured Sally. "I'm sure you haven't lost anything, it's just… froze up or something."

"Do you want to use mine?" Rose offered. "I've got filing I can do until IT figures yours out." She gave Sally a wide, pretty smile which the other woman met with a thin lipped look of death.

Something passed between them and it didn't go unnoticed by Greg, whose eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between the two. "That's a great idea, thank you Rose," he said after several seconds. "Come into my office and do the filing until Sally's fixed up, and I'll give IT a ring."

As Greg turned away to reenter his office, Rose turned a devious little grin in Sally's direction for the briefest of moments before turning away.

A quiet little prank war ensued following the 'fixing' of Sally's computer by Bob from IT. Once her own computer was ready, Sally managed to find a moment that the department was buzzing and smeared a large helping of super glue on the back of Rose's chair, having already noted the younger girl's habit of flopping into chairs.

An hour later, when Rose tried to get up from the chair, she found her blazer stuck to the back of it. A series of completely undignified wiggling then occurred as Rose struggled to get out of her blazer. Once that was accomplished she had to use serious force to remove the blazer from the chair, ripping it in the process.

"This is my favorite blazer," she grumbled to herself, lamenting the loss of her only polka dot blazer.

"What a shame," Sally commented with feigned sympathy. "I've got needle and thread if you want to try and sew it back up…" She stopped when Rose showed her the back of it, which was clearly beyond the point that simple repairs would do the trick. "Well, I'm certain you can find a seamstress somewhere to fix that up again, possibly."

Rose huffed and traded desk chairs before getting back to work.

Tuesday brought another round of pranks and since Sally had initiated the use of old school pranking, Rose responded in kind. Having discovered that Sally harbored a love for Oreos, Rose snuck a tube of toothpaste in her purse and, during her lunch break, took the liberty of scraping away the yummy white filling of Sally's labeled packaged. Replacing the filling with toothpaste, Rose carefully re-taped the package as she'd found it and tucked it back into the cupboard.

Later, Rose felt a tiny bit bad when Sally gagged and nearly lost her lunch after biting into one. That tiny bit of sympathy quickly evaporated when later that afternoon, she discovered that her diet coke had been replaced with sprite and soy sauce. Despite promptly spitting out the disgusting fake soda, the taste of it had so turned her stomach that Rose lost her lunch in the waste bin as well. Throwing up caused shooting pains in her side, making Rose grimace as she fought throw the wave of pain that followed.

Once her stomach was settled, she hastily swallowed four ibuprofen, promise to John be damned. Pain out-weighed promises. For the first time she wondered if perhaps she should go in to a see a doctor. Not John, definitely not John, but there were loads of other doctors. But if she did that, she might be pulled from the competition and even if she wasn't, there would be no way for Rose to keep Mycroft from finding out and he would most definitely keep her from competing. No, she'd just have to soldier on. It was only a few more days and then she could have a good rest and things would heal up just fine on their own.

Rose made certain to stop in at IT once more before leaving that night. She'd had her fill of old-school tactics.

As the Veronicas Take Me on the Floor excerpt neared its end, Alfred bent and pulled back slightly, allowing Rose's body to nearly touch the floor before bringing her back up. One and a half more turns and Rose's back was to her chest, arms stretched up above her head. Alfred wrapping his right arm around her right thigh and his left arm wrapped around her midsection in preparation to spin her twice in the air round his left arm before carefully lowing her to the ground.

Or at least that was the plan, and had been for some weeks, despite Sherlock's insistence early on that the move be cut from the routine and a different finish utilized. This, above and beyond all other lifts, spins and other intricate movements was the one that they struggled with the most and had resulted in the most drops Rose had suffered. As Alfred moved to place his arms in the right positions and lift Rose off her feet, he got her once around his arm and then dropped her, hard on her left side. Even over the final notes of the music, Alfred could hear a sickening snapping sound. "Rose, oh my god. Rose, I'm so sorry!" Alfred exclaimed. Though he'd said the words several times, dozens or even hundreds at this point, he meant them each time he had to say them. "Are you hurt? Did I break you?"

Rose hit the ground, hitting it hard on her left side. A searing pain shot through her torso, her breath was completely knocked out of her and the world went black.

Ten minutes later Rose began to slowly regain consciousness, the sounds of a hissed argument reaching her ears.

"We have to call someone. Her brother, an ambulance, someone!" Alfred insisted.

"She will murder you if you do that. They won't let her compete Thursday! Let's wait and see how she is. Look, she's even waking up!" Louise responded. "Rose? Hey girl, it's Lou. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Rose blinked her eyes several times before the blurriness went away. "Two; index and middle," she responded. "What happened?"

Louise let out a sigh of relief. "See? She'll be fine. Al here dropped you for the millionth time. He wants to call your brothers, because apparently you went crunch. I said screw that and got you an ice pack, but Al's all kinds of concerned."

The mention of the ice pack caused Rose to shift her eyes in the direction of her torso. "No wonder that side feels so good. I can't feel anything, that's magic ice you got there Louise. Did I really go crunch?"

Alfred cringed and nodded. "Well, sort of more of a crunchy-snappy-popping noise to be honest. I thought maybe I'd broken your arm or nose or something, but all that looks fine. A broken nose would definitely ruin our look."

"Prolly broke my rib you git," Rose grumbled. "It's kinda sorta been verging on it for weeks."

"And you didn't tell John?!" Louise gasped. "Girl, he's going to kick your arse when he finds out about this."

"He isn't going to find out! I'll wrap it or something. Google and figure out how to try and ease the pain and stuff, at least until the competition is done. And ibuprofen, loads and loads of it," she decided. "And if all goes well, I'll take a long holiday and it'll heal itself up without issue and he'll never know."

"Why do we not want John to know? John's the doctor bloke, right?" Alfred asked. He could never quite keep up with the array of friends, relatives, and odd combinations thereof that Rose's circle of people constituted.

Louise nodded at him. "Yeah, he's the doctor. They're having a thing right now, he and Rose, a 'we're in love but can't date because of the bro code' thing… Ouch!" She scowled at Rose and rubbed her arm where her best friend had just pinched her quite hard.

"Alfred doesn't need to know that. The less people that know, the less likelihood that Mycroft and Sherlock will figure it out. John's deathly terrified of being castrated," Rose admitted with a sigh. She giggled weakly when Alfred's eyes bulged at that very mention of such a thing, but winced as the giggles caused her discomfort.

"Can we take you to A&E or something?" Louise asked. "Maybe Alfred's right, you know? If you don't want John there are plenty of other doctors you could see, get some good pain meds. There will always be other competitions."

"No," Rose replied vehemently. "I won't miss this competition, not after I worked so bloody hard to get ready for it! And any doctor with his license would forbid it and once Mycroft found out, he'd even more firmly forbid it and imprison me or something."

"True that," Louise nodded. "So what can we do?"

"Google. Google what I should be doing to help myself heal and how to wrap my ribs for the competition. I don't think they do wrapping anymore, but I haven't got a choice. At least most of my costumes will allow me to do that. Otherwise I haven't got a chance in hell of surviving this." Rose groaned and moved from her back to her right side, settling the ice pack more firmly against her side as Louise began googling broken ribs on her mobile.

After downing far more ibuprofen than John would ever allow her to consume, taking a soothing bath, and having some tea, Rose somehow managed to get some sleep despite her aching rib- or ribs as the case may be. When Wednesday morning dawned bright and sunny, Rose 'ran late' and stopped into 221B only briefly to grab a piece of buttered toast, her shoes and purse before heading out the door to take the tube to the Met. The less time she spent around Sherlock and John the less likely it would be that they found out she was injured. She'd worry about their wrath at being kept in the dark on it when and if she crossed that bridge, not before.

Though the pain dulled some of the excitement of seeing the latest deployment of her weaponry, ie Bob from IT, in the war against Sally, Rose was looking forward to seeing the woman's reaction to her latest scathingly brilliant idea. It came in handy that Bob disliked Sally, who he found rather haughty and condescending in general, which worked for Rose's advantage in terms of plotting.

Bob worked his magic on her behalf and by Wednesday morning Word's correction function had been set to replace common words such as 'the' or 'and' with the word 'arse.' Rose hadn't specified a specific substitute word, leaving it up to Bob, who suggested 'arse' and she had readily agreed, imagining the hilarity of anything Sally typed up and printed without reading it first.

It was a serious struggle to keep from constantly watching Sally as the day went on excruciatingly slowly. It would be horribly disappointing if Sally didn't discover it until tomorrow when Rose was gone at the competition but the day wasn't quite over yet.

As coffee time drew near, however, the tampering was discovered but not by Sally. Instead, it was discovered by Greg who went to retrieve several witness statements that were waiting for him on the printer. He took them back to his office and scanned them briefly, the error jumping out at him. "That can't be right. I must be seeing things," Greg murmured to himself. He read on, finding it again and again, realizing a bit belatedly that the word 'arse' was inserted not at random, but at specific intervals, indicating either a phantom keystroke prank or tampering with Word itself.

Initially it was sort of amusing, but when he realized that the errors were liberally sprinkled throughout each of the ten witnesses statements for various cases, it was not so funny anymore. Looking up from the unusable documents, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed Sally and Rose through the window of his office. Neither of them looked particularly guilty at just that moment, but they had been up to something since Sally's return.

It was subtle, so subtle it hadn't really dawned on him until the day before that they were actively having a go at one another. Tampering with each other's food was rather childish, but not particularly harmful, and if both of them suffered upset stomachs from it he hadn't been inclined to be sympathetic about it. Certain that pranks would quickly lose its appeal, Greg had chosen not to say anything and let the nonsense run its course. Obviously that had been a mistake as one of them had tampered with Word and made a mess of these statements that one or both of them would need to sort out.

"Playtime is over," he murmured, getting up from behind his desk. Greg stuck his head out of the door and called out to them. "Rose, Sally, come in here a minute will you?" He deliberately kept his voice even and friendly, not wanting to create gossip amongst the rest of the department. Retreating behind his desk once more, he watched as the women in question turned accusing looks on one another before coming into the office.

"Ladies… ladies…" Greg began, running his hand through his hair. This sort of thing made him rather uncomfortable and not just because he happened to like both of the employees sitting in front of him. Breaking protocols, abuse of author, the usual sort of 'misbehavior' one dealt with when running a division Greg could handle without a problem. This was a bit more delicate and he was decidedly uncomfortable at giving them both a dressing down over it, even though it was well deserved.

"You two have been having a bit of fun the last few days, haven't you?" he began. "I don't want to hear who started it and why, because frankly all this prank stuff is kiddie games. Not particularly appropriate, but not harmful really. So the biscuits and blazer and whatever else you've been doing of that kind I'm not even going to get into the gory details of it. First off, all that nonsense stops now. Right here and now, I don't want anything further and if you've got stuff planned or ready to go, you'd best unready it when I let you both out of here. Understand?"

Sally and Rose exchanged a look that Greg couldn't quite read; perhaps it was surprise that he had caught on? Or surprise that he wasn't going to have a fit over those things? Well, they were about to be unsurprised. "Well, ladies, you've gone too far. I should have stopped all this when I suspected it was happening, but I had really hoped you'd both come to your senses and stop acting like children. Yes, Sally, children." It amused Greg just a bit that Sally immediately took a defensive posture and opened her mouth to protest, whereas Rose's face was growing rather red and her eyes shifted away from him.

"This is too far ladies, and I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Which one of you is responsible for it?" Greg slid the statements towards them and waited while they looked them over.

"This one's mine," Rose admitted, beginning to fidget in her seat a bit. "I was rather mad about my blazer, it was my favorite. Bit not good, I get that now and I sincerely apologize. I'll make sure it gets undone right away, and retype all those myself. I guess it hadn't occurred to me that you might be inconvenienced by the autocorrect tampering."

"Thank you for being honest," Greg said sincerely. "And definitely a bit not good. None of this has been good, and I'm going to have to think about some appropriate consequences for you both. I'd rather not have this on either of your employment records and I'll keep it off those records providing I get a promise from each of you that these kiddie games are done and won't happen anymore and you accept whatever consequences I decide are an appropriate response. You're both adult, professional ladies and this…" He gestured to the statements. "And all of this really is beneath you both. I'm very, very disappointed."

Rose felt an overwhelming urge to cry as guilt settled heavily in her stomach. She wouldn't, that was childish, and Greg was absolutely right. It had been very petty of them both and what was worse was not only that she started it, but that she never bothered to stop it either. "I promise I'm done, it's done, and I'll fix those statements. I'm very sorry, sir," she said softly, dragging her eyes back up to meet Greg's. It almost made it worse that he didn't look angry with them; disappointment was always much harder to take, especially from someone she respected as much as she respected Greg.

The detective-inspector nodded, satisfied with her promise and more than a little impressed that he'd wrung a 'sir' out of her. "Good, I'll hand these off to you then," Greg replied, gathering the statements into a pile before handing them over. "Sally?" He gave her a questioning look, arching an eyebrow in a silent challenge. If Rose could be grown up enough to admit she was mistaken and promise not to do something so silly again, in front of Sally no less, there was no reason why Sally couldn't do the same in front of Rose.

"Of course. I apologize as well and will refrain from engaging in childish activities with your p—er, assistant," Sally said, just barely stopping herself from referring to Rose as Greg's pet.

"Good. Back to work, both of you. Rose, fix Sally's computer first and then work on these statements for me." Dismissing them both from the office, Greg was left to decide what exactly to do with his prankster employees. He'd meant what he said about keeping this nonsense off their employment records, especially in Sally's case, considering the high praise she'd garnered from her undercover assignment. There was plenty of work to do in the case archives, but he couldn't send them both down there. Lord only knew what they'd get up to if there wasn't someone keeping a close eye on them. While Rose was far more likely than Sally to have started the pranks, he had no doubt that Sally had egged Rose on to do it, so he was definitely not sending them off for quality time in the archives.

With a sigh he reached for his mobile and dialed a number he very rarely found the need to call. After several rings the call was answered.

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Mycroft, Lestrade," Greg greeted.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Detective-Inspector?" Mycroft asked. "Or should I say displeasure? Which one of them is it now?"

Greg couldn't help but laugh at Mycroft's immediate assumption that he was calling about one of the Holmes siblings rather than in regards to a case. "The little one, I'm afraid."

"Please tell me she hasn't assaulted anyone," Mycroft immediately responded.

"Uh… no, no she hasn't. Should I be concerned about that?" Greg asked, feeling as if he was missing something important.

"No, not particularly I suppose. It's a long story that would bore you and only serve to make me angry with Sweden again," Mycroft admitted. "But do go on, what's that ridiculous child done this time?"

"You know, I almost feel badly for you Mycroft, except I can hear that edge of affection in your tone," Greg joked.

"That is not affection. I do not indulge in sentiment. It is merely weariness and dread," Mycroft corrected, sounding a bit disgruntled. He scowled at his mobile when he heard the other man chuckle again.

"Well, seems that she and Sally Donovan got into a bit of pranks with one another and things went a bit too far today. I've got the slight paperwork mess sorted out, and promises that they'll both behave like adults from now on, but I'm a bit at a loss on what to do with Rose. I don't want to give her a task where Sally will also be paying penance, so to speak. I guess I was looking for some assistance," Greg explained.

"Oh I find that I have a few ideas for them both," Mycroft grumbled. "Though I have the feeling you're looking for a consequence only I can provide my wayward child. Would that be correct, Detective-Inspector Lestrade?"

Greg smiled just a bit to himself at hearing Mycroft refer to Rose as his child. "Your wayward child?"

"Well if she isn't my wayward child I don't know whose she would be," Mycroft retorted, rolling his eyes. "Am I correct in my interpretation of your call?"

"Yeah, you are," Greg admitted. "You don't mind if I pass this one of to you, so I can keep it off her employment record and keep her and Sally apart?"

"Well, yes I do mind, because I have better things to do then put Rose over my knee for what most certainly must be the millionth time in her twenty years on this earth. Nevertheless I will handle it," Mycroft replied.

Greg groaned, having not really anticipated that being the outcome of involving Mycroft. For some reason he thought the eldest Holmes might give the youngest a stern talking to and they could consider the matter closed. Being called to task by your brother at twenty-years-old had to be equivalent to a day spent in the case archives. At least in his mind it was! "She's going to hate me for calling you, isn't she?" he asked with a sigh.

"Doubtful. She doesn't hate me," Mycroft admitted. "So I would wager you're safe. Best of luck with your employees Detective-Inspector."

UP NEXT: Rose braves attempts to brave the pain and compete, and things between she and John finally have a resolution (one I think all will enjoy!). Stay tuned!