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John had asked Sherlock to pick up Rosie while he got in a nap, knowing that between Sherlock and Rosie he wouldn’t be catching up on the sleep he’d missed during this case anytime soon.
Sherlock let himself into Mycroft’s house, not bothering to knock. Downstairs was quiet. He frowned slightly, wondering if perhaps Rosie was down for a nap. If so it would be best to let her finish. He headed upstairs, glancing into Mycroft’s empty study before hearing voices down the hall.
Mycroft had accepted Rosie into his life with surprising ease, even giving a room in his house. Sherlock had never expected his brother to hold any particular fondness for children but with all they’d gone through over the past few years perhaps he’d changed. He could work from home when needed so often he was the one looking after her at a moment’s notice.
The door to her room was slightly ajar as Sherlock approached. Rosie was talking. “Bees have a queen.”
“Yes,” said Mycroft.
“The Queen lives in the hive,” pontificated Rosie. “She has a crown and a throne and a pretty sparkly dress.”
Sherlock smirked, expecting Mycroft to correct her.
“Does she?” asked Mycroft.
Reaching the door, Sherlock peered inside. He put one hand on the wall to steady himself at the sight. Mycroft sat primly on a pillow on the floor in front of Rosie’s low table, sipping water from a cup and wearing a small plastic crown perched perfectly on his head. Sherlock recognized one of his better tea sets. Rosie was in her favorite pink sparkly dress, sitting across from him and perfectly imitating the way he held his teacup.
Sherlock didn’t dare interrupt the moment. Raising his phone, he silently snapped a quick picture and retreated back down the hall. His heart ached in a way he hadn’t ever expected to feel around his brother.
Sherlock rubbed his eyes and let himself back out of the house, as quiet as he’d come.
**
John startled awake as Sherlock climbed into bed next to him. “You get Rosie?” he asked, still have asleep.
Sherlock shook his head.
John frowned and rolled onto his back. “Is something wrong?”
“Rosie is fine,” said Sherlock. “She and Mycroft were… playing. I didn’t wish to interrupt.”
John blinked a few times, certain he was still sleeping. “Playing?”
Sherlock nodded. “They were having a tea party.”
John smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “We’ll go get her later then, yeah?”
“Yes,” said Sherlock, kissing him back.
“Nap a bit with me, then we’ll go, alright?”
“Okay,” said Sherlock, closing his eyes and holding John close.
**
A few hours later Sherlock stood by John’s side as he rang the bell. Rosie hurtled herself outside as Mycroft opened the door. “Hi Daddy!”
“Hello,” said John, catching her and hoisting her onto his hip. He noticed her hair was done up in intricate braids. “Were you good for Uncle Mycroft?”
“Yes,” she said, snuggling against him as Mycroft handed Sherlock her little overnight bag.
“No problems at all,” said Mycroft, back to looking every inch a proper British gentleman.
“We always appreciate you watching her,” said John.
“I know,” said Mycroft with a thin smile. “I do apologize but she didn’t get a nap today. Couldn’t get her to settle down.”
“We’ll take a go at it when we get home, thank you,” said John, turning back for the car.
Sherlock hesitated. “You’re good, with children,” he said quietly.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “I do have some experience. But thank you.”
Sherlock looked at his phone, then quickly sent Mycroft the picture.
Mycroft cocked his head and looked down at his own mobile. His smile turned more genuinely warm. “Thank you.”
“It seemed best not to interrupt.” Sherlock turned away from him. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” Mycroft knew he meant more than for Rosie. “I’ll see you again soon. Perhaps… the three of you would join me for dinner on Friday evening?”
Sherlock glanced back at him and nodded. “See you then.”