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“Uncle Mycie!” Rosie hurtled herself at Mycroft’s legs.
Mycroft swept her into his arms before she could collide, holding the blonde toddler on his hip. “Good morning, Rosie.”
“Good morning, Uncle Mycie.” She did her best to copy his formal cadence.
Mycroft couldn’t help his smile at her. He’d long since given up on correcting the way she said his name.
“Thank you for taking her,” said John, reaching up to get her coat on. “Mrs. Hudson is visiting her friend and Molly is at a conference…”
“I’m aware,” said Mycroft, tugging the coat closed and zipping it up. “I assure you, I’m quite capable of minding a toddler for a few hours.”
John snuck a look at where Sherlock was wrapping something up in the kitchen. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”
Mycroft accepted her mittens and hat and got them on her deftly, with one hand, umbrella never dropping from where it hung on his arm.
John gave him a smile and stepped back. “Yes, I think you’ll just do fine. Rosie be good for Uncle Mycroft.”
“I will, Daddy. Bye, Papa Sherlock!”
Mycroft tried to ignore the fact that she had learned to say Sherlock perfectly fine as he accepted the fold-up pushchair from John. Sherlock came out of the kitchen and leveled a look at Mycroft that had no effect. “Take care of her.”
“Of course.”
“Papa Sherlock, hug?” she asked leaning towards him.
Sherlock took her and gave her a hug, tugging her hat down a little further. He planted a kiss on her forehead and passed her back.
“Until later.” Mycroft turned and carried her down the stairs.
Once they were outside he flipped open the pushchair, locked it open, and settled Rosie into it. “Ready for the park?” He asked as he buckled her.
“Yay!” she grinned up at him.
Mycroft smiled fondly and straightened the shade on the pushchair, starting off down the pavement towards the park.
It wasn’t very far to Regent’s, and Mycroft had to admit he felt a bit better once they were off the street. The day was crisp, but there were plenty of other people in the park. He aimed for one of the playgrounds, keeping an eye on Rosie as she looked around.
“Mister Holmes?” a familiar voice caught him by surprise and he turned his head, seeing one of the secretaries from his office.
“Ah, Thomas,” he said, quickly pulling up the right name. “Good morning.”
Thomas was looking at Rosie with disbelief, as if he was certain she was a mirage. She stuck her tongue out at him. He looked back to Mycroft.
“I didn’t know you had children, sir.”
“I don’t, this is my niece. Simply enjoying a day in the park.”
Thomas seemed equally baffled by the idea that Mycroft had close family relations. Mycroft was secretly pleased. He did like to maintain an air of mystery among his underlings. Though of course now Thomas would want to tell the others.
“Uncle Mycie!” said Rosie, twisting around to look up at him. “Park?”
“Ah yes,” of course. He gave Thomas a look that had him physically taking a step back. “I do hope you’ll keep this to yourself, Thomas.”
“Ah, of course, sir. Have a good day.”
“You as well.” Mycroft started pushing the pushchair again. “Rosie, you shouldn’t stick your tongue out at people.”
“He was looking at me,” she grumbled.
“Yes well, it’s still not polite.”
“Okay,” she said in a tone that shouted disagreement. Mycroft chose to let it pass and perhaps walked a little faster towards the playground.
They quickly arrived and Mycroft observed a number of other children running around and climbing the equipment. Rosie was practically bouncing to get out and join them, her mittens already off. Mycroft unbuckled her and she tore off into the sand, nearly tripping in her hurry.
Smiling softly, he took a seat and pocketed her mittens. Rosie quickly collected a number of other kids around her age and they started playing some sort of game. It warmed Mycroft’s heart far more than he would ever admit that Rosie seemed to have no trouble making friends.
A woman just a few years younger than him sat down on the bench, perhaps just a little closer than was strictly proper. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I noticed your daughter was playing with mine.” She smiled a little wider than normal as well.
“My niece.” Mycroft shifted away from her and turned his attention fully back to where Rosie was apparently holding court while standing on the structure. It pleased him.
“Ah. Is it… just you?” she asked.
Mycroft resisted the urge to open his umbrella and place it between them. He sighed and looked at her. “No.”
She started to say something else, but at that moment there was a small cry. Mycroft was on his feet in a moment, rushing over to Rosie’s side as she picked herself up from the sand.
“I fell, Uncle Mycie.”
“Yes, I see that.” He brushed sand off of her, checking her over.
She turned and tucked her head against his shoulder. He couldn’t help his small smile as he rubbed her back.
“Can I play some more?” she asked after a minute.
“Yes, of course.” He let go and adjusted her hat.
She grinned and ran off. He watched her go, wiping sand off the front of his own coat as he made his way back to the bench. The annoying woman was still sitting there.
“You do take good care of her,” she said.
Mycroft muttered a response, finding something to examine on Rosie’s pushchair and trying to think of some way to extricate himself without being utterly rude.
“Oh, there you are,” Suddenly Greg Lestrade was in front of him with two cups of coffee. He leaned in and kissed Mycroft’s cheek, quickly planting himself between Mycroft and the woman. She huffed and moved to the far end of the bench. “Heard you were out solo today,” he said, winking at Mycroft and offering a cup.
Mycroft was even more flustered now, if that were possible. He and Greg weren’t exactly… dating, but well... It was complicated.
“Thank you,” he managed, accepting the cup.
“You’re welcome.” Greg put an arm along the back of the bench and behind Mycroft’s shoulders.
Mycroft took a breath and relaxed a bit, sipping his coffee and letting it warm him.
“Everything good?” asked Greg quietly.
“Fine, yes, thank you.”
“No problem. Little birdie suggested I might find you here.”
“I’m sure she did.”
Greg chuckled and sipped his coffee.
A kid started crying and the woman got up and hurried to him. Mycroft frowned, seeing Rosie glaring at the boy. He got up as well, handing Greg his coffee.
“She punched me, mummy!” He sniffled.
“He pulled my hair,” she said, hands on her hips.
“I hardly think a little hair pulling warrants…”
“On the contrary, I think it does,” said Mycroft, voice gone cold. “Perhaps you should teach your son not to touch people without permission. Clearly he’s several years older than her as well, so he really should know better.”
The woman huffed and turned back towards her son, calling her daughter over as well.
Mycroft took Rosie’s hand and led her back towards the bench.
“Oh! Uncle Greg!” Rosie pulled free from his hand and ran towards him. Mycroft took the coffees so Greg could pick her up and set her in his lap.
Greg glanced at where the other family was walking away. “That boy being mean to you?”
Rosie nodded. “He pulled my hair.”
Greg pulled the loose hairband free and started fixing her hair. “Well I’d say that was an appropriate use of force. Only hit people when you’re defending yourself though, you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” Greg finished with her hair and set her back on her feet.
“Do I get hot chocolate?” she asked, eyeing the cups.
“I suppose you’ve earned that,” said Mycroft. “We can go to the cafe.”
“Uncle Greg, push me?” she asked, climbing into her pushchair.
Greg smiled and knelt down to buckle her in. He started pushing her towards the cafe. “Lovely day, at least,” he said.
“It is. After we get the cocoa we can take a walk.”
“I’d like that.”
“No mean swans,” said Rosie.
“We won’t bother the swans,” promised Mycroft.
Greg chuckled. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“You know the swans can be territorial. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Fair enough.” Greg gave him a smile that warmed him nearly as much as the coffee he was finishing. Mycroft threw away his empty cup and took over the pushchair duties so Greg could finish his own.
“I’ll get it,” said Greg, stepping forward to order. “Did you two eat lunch? No? Go get us a table, Mycroft.”
With only a small amount of grumbling, Mycroft got a table, found a booster for Rosie, and got them settled. Greg appeared a moment later with a tray of toasties, tea for Mycroft, hot chocolate for Rosie, and another coffee for himself.
It was all charmingly domestic. Rosie devoured her toasties, apparently hungrier than she’d realized. Greg let his foot rest against Mycroft’s under the table, making small talk while they ate.
When they finished they got Rosie back in the pushchair and started walking again. Greg and Mycroft lapsed into silence, simply enjoying one another’s company as they went along the lake. Mycroft smiled when he saw Rosie had fallen asleep. He pulled her mittens out of his pocket and got them on her hands.
“You really are good with her,” said Greg, watching him.
“The skills of an elder brother, I suppose,” he said, taking hold of the pushchair again and gently pushing it.
“It’s more than that, I suspect. Don’t worry, I won’t let on that you’re good with kids.”
“Heaven forfend. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Oh, of course.” Greg smiled warmly at him.
Mycroft reached over and squeezed his hand before returning his attention to the pushchair.
“Speaking of kids, I’m watching Dimmock’s kids next weekend, if you think Rosie would like a playdate.”
Mycroft quickly considered his plans, and couldn’t think of anything better. “I’ll have to ask her parents, of course. But… perhaps we could make it a date, as well?”
Greg gave him an even warmer grin. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Good. What do you say we get the little one home and into her bed, and you and I can watch some telly?”
“Sounds perfect.”
**
Sherlock and John returned home a few hours later to find Greg and Mycroft snoring lightly on the sofa while Rosie played quietly with her dolls on the carpet.
“Shh, you’ll wake up Uncle Mycie,” she said, as Sherlock opened his mouth. He quickly shut it again.
John took off his coat and sat down next to her on the floor. “Did you have a good time?” he asked softly.
Rosie nodded. “We went to the playground and I fell on the sand and a boy pulled my hair, but I punched him.”
John grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“And Uncle Greg showed up and we had toasties and then I fell asleep and woke up here.”
“Sounds like you had a good day.”
“I like Uncle Mycie. And Uncle Greg.”
John tousled her hair. “We’re a bit fond of them too.”