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“Seriously, Dad this IS ridiculous. Papa, how do you do this?”
Rosie had Sherlock and John on Skype via her mobile tablet as she exited the car and walked up to the door.
Her father had managed to catch his annual sniffles early this season making everyone else at 221B sick – sick of his melodrama. Her father, the doctor, was of course playing nurse maid to her father , the sick drama queen. She all but truly expected to see a tissue dotted with blood to dangle from his long pale fingers as proof to the depth of his infirmity.
“Clearly he loves me more.” Sherlock sniffed offended as he blew his nose.
She could hear her father muttering in the background. “Just give him what he wants little girl and this will be over with quickly.”
“Fine, but I have a mute button and I will use it!” Rosie warned them to the immediate giggles from both of her fathers. She audibly groaned, apparently she was being her Papa's daughter now. Every now and again Rosie would randomly say or do something so much like either of her fathers that would evoke a memory between them and set them to fondly smile, or grimace, or in this instance, giggle. It would be frustrating were they not such awesome people. Still, she rolled her eyes as she pressed the doorbell.
“Oh, Rosamond! Hello dearie, forgive me, I was expecting your fathers.”
“Hi, Mrs. Daniels.” Rosie held up her tablet, showing the live feed as she walked in “Da is quite ill and Papa is tending to him. We do not trust him to be left alone to his own devices while sick. They promised Mrs. Hudson they would look into it, but Skype is the best we can do on short notice. Shall we begin? Oh, hello there…”
Rosie bent slightly and held out her hand for Barney, the family’s yellow Labrador, to sniff as Sherlock and John squabbled in the background.
--“What does she mean you two don’t trust me to be left alone while sick?”
--“Your hand jerked because you sneezed while using an acetylene torch and accidentally set fire to a tea towel, then tried to lie and say it was a part of the experiment.”
“Da! Papa! Focus!” Rosie addressed the two men as the children they are."No, I'm not doing this. I'll call you if I need you."
Mrs. Daniels did her best to keep a straight face seeing the teen’s exasperation with the men as she promptly pressed the mute button. Rosie left the screen facing the window where the two idiots can watch more of the falling snow piling in the front yard. And because she knew it was coming, she also took out her mobile and silenced that as well, smirking at the texts that followed in its wake.
“Now, shall we begin Mrs. Daniels?”
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An hour later, Rosie picked up the tablet, re-activated the Skype to get her two fathers back, before putting a finger to her lips as she takes them off mute. They watch as she leads them through the house to the kitchen.
“Hi Fred.” She greets a chocolate Labrador just coming in through the heavy flap of the dog door, before she opens the door itself and goes out into the back yard. There is a good foot of snow in the back yard except for an area that has been recently cleared out.
“Stay put you two, I’ll be right back.” She blows them a kiss.
Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister when a neighbor’s kitten went missing two days ago. Her son was distraught. Mrs. Hudson promised the woman she'd ask Sherlock, however the fact that this was not even a 1 on his importance scale, the consulting detective was laid up in bed having caught a nasty cold.
Not wanting to make a liar of Mrs. Hudson Sherlock convinced Rosie, on holiday leave from uni, to take her tablet and conduct the interview remotely. Because her two fathers were being a pain, she shut them both out and had figured it out on her own without them.
Rosie laid her tablet on top of her bag on the ground next to her, but the Skype line was still active. All John and Sherlock could see now was a gray overcast sky through the barren branches of the trees in Mrs. Daniel’s back yard, but they could hear Rosie as she spoke to the client's son.
“Oh for Christ's sake, stop your sniveling. Tears won’t bring her back. Let's find a box so we can bury her. It's cold." Rosie told the boy matter of fact, as she stood over him, “The ground is going to be too hard to work with soon.”
--“What have you been teaching our daughter?” John looked to Sherlock aghast at Rosie’s behavior.
“Shovel. Now George!" They hear her fuss at the child.
--“Oh no you don’t, that there is your temper, John. Even I can see that was cruel.” Sherlock looked to his husband equally appalled.
--“Christ she’s the worst of both of us at times.” John bemoaned, hearing the little boy burst into tears.
“Look, I'm sorry, George.” Rosie knelt next to the little boy on the cold ground as tears streamed down his face.
The frozen body of a kitten was on the ground between them.
“Jiffy was my favorite. It's not fair.” He cried.
“I know sweetie, but you named her Jiffy because she was so fast. And she was. That's how she was able to get out through the dog flap when one of the dogs went out. She just was not strong enough to push the dog flap open on her own to get back in when they left her. It was such bad weather, the other day, no one could hear her in the storm. I’m so sorry. Come here you."
The men could hear shuffling, and knew Rosie had pulled the crying boy into her arms as she cooed comfort to him.
Sherlock looked to John. Though Rosie could not see them, both men had proud smiles on their faces as they listened to their daughter sit with the little boy.
--“She's smart because you've taught her how to create her own mind palace.” John handed Sherlock a bowl of soup.
--“She's caring because you've taught her how to love. As you've taught me.” Sherlock stroked his husband’s fingers accepting the soup.
--“She's the best of both of us.” They grin simultaneously.