Chapter Text
Set between The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three
Anna Watson was mad.
At this very moment, she could be at home, watching telly from the sofa. She could be at the park. She could be with Mary, or at a friend’s house, or at Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson. But no, she was here. HERE! Of all the places she could be. Anna glanced across the spacious outer office to where Anthea sat behind an expansive desk. When not on the move, Mycroft’s assistant apparently swapped her phone for a sleek laptop, to which she gave the same, unwavering attention. Anthea had not looked up once in the past hour, yet Anna had the feeling that she was under close surveillance. As if she needed a babysitter! She wouldn’t put it past them, though, either of them. Not the one who evidently defined “keeping an eye on her” as either doing so via CCTV or letting his assistant do it for him, and not her dad, off running around London on a case. Anna scowled at the book in her hands.
If she was honest with herself, Anna knew that her current predicament was entirely – well, mostly – of her own making. If it hadn’t been for her impulsivity that afternoon three weeks ago, her dad would have had no reason to reconsider allowing her to stay home by herself. He could have been more understanding, though, she thought, trying not to kick at the chair leg in frustration. She had promised to never do it again, and she’d meant it! He’d said he believed her, but if so, then why was she sitting here now?
She’d had no idea where her dad was taking her when he hustled her into the cab earlier in the afternoon, except that he was most definitely not allowing her to accompany him to the crime scene he was heading to. Anna had hoped for Baker Street. She had been shocked and more than a little displeased to end up in Whitehall.
A throat clearing startled her from her thoughts and she glanced up to see Mycroft Holmes staring down at her, wearing an unreadable expression.
“Are you reading that book or merely glaring at it?” He asked mildly. Receiving no response, he gestured behind him towards his office. “Come have a cup of tea.”
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Anna was in the outer office with her book, once again, when Anthea finally spoke.
“You’re father’s here, Anna. I’m to see you downstairs.”
Anna watched in amazement as Anthea stood, shifted her gaze from her laptop to the phone that was now in her hand and crossed to hold open the door without so much as a sideways glance. The younger girl eagerly followed and was extremely relieved when John entered her sights; that is, until she remembered she was still upset with him.
“Ready?” he asked, giving her a smile. Anna stalked by him, not bothering to answer the utterly ridiculous question.
John sighed and followed her out into the late afternoon light. “Still angry at me, I see.”
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Anna was only mildly surprised to find Sherlock occupying half of the cab’s backseat, staring off into space. He didn’t move or say a word as she scooted into the center, her dad climbing in after her. After giving the cabbie directions, John glanced at Anna and then nudged her gently in the ribs.
“Quit sulking.”
“No.”
“Are you really still mad about this? I had to leave you somewhere.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.” John turned a bit so he could see her. “I wasn’t leaving you home alone after last time.”
“Well, you didn’t have to leave me with Mycroft!” She snapped.
“You left her with Mycroft?” Sherlock asked from beside her, so suddenly that Anna jumped. “Really, John, what is wrong with you?”
“See?!” Anna exclaimed.
John glared at the detective over her head. “Sherlock, I told you…” he started, before giving up and turning back to his daughter.
“It’s not the worst place I could’ve left you.”
“Yes, it is.” Sherlock retorted, before Anna even had a chance to reply.
“Sherlock!” John bellowed. "Not. Helping.”
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When the two Watsons finally reached their front door, Sherlock having departed for Baker Street, Anna was still angry and John increasingly frustrated. She waited for him to unlock the door, then darted past and straight for the kitchen.
“Mary!”
John rounded the corner to see his increasingly tall daughter – so far from the tiny eight year old he had adopted - nearly throwing herself into his fiancée’s embrace. He was quite chuffed that they were getting along so well, though he suspected Anna’s current enthusiasm towards Mary had a lot to do with her displeasure with him. Sure enough, she was glaring at him – again – over her shoulder.
Mary glanced between them, before gently pushing Anna back far enough to see her face. “Alright, what’d he do?”
John sighed as Anna scowled. “He left me with Mycroft! For hours and hours!”
“You did what?” Mary was looking at him now and John wasn’t sure he appreciated the expression on her face.
“No one else was around!” He held up his hands, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself. “You were out, Molly was working, Lestrade was with Sherlock and I, and Sherlock said Mrs. Hudson had gone out! Mycroft had offered before, so I thought… And it wasn’t hours and hours, Anna,” he gave her a stern look. “It was only a couple.”
“A couple of hours that I could’ve spent here!” Anna extricated herself from Mary’s grasp and whirled to face him. “I’m twelve, not five! You could’ve just let me stay here!
John didn’t get a chance to respond, as she spun around again and ran for the hall. Her bedroom door slammed moments later. John glanced back to Mary.
“I can’t believe you left her with Mycroft,” she said with a laugh. “She’s not going to forgive you easily for that.”
John slumped forward on to the counter, resting his head in his hands. Mary crossed the kitchen to stand beside him, running a hand through his short hair.
“You do know I’m mostly having you on, yes?”
He glanced up at her through his fingers.
“She’s twelve, John. Sure, she’s mad, but she also adores you. She’ll get over it. Give her a bit to calm down and then go talk to her.”
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Thirty minutes later, John knocked on Anna’s door. He heard and ignored the muffled “go away”, opening the door and crossing to where she sat on her bed.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he informed her. She shrugged.
John sighed. “Alright, let’s have it.”
“What?” She glanced up at him.
“You’re clearly still upset, so let’s have it. I’d rather that than you sitting here stewing all night.”
“You know why I’m upset,” she growled. “You left me with Mycroft.”
John took a seat beside her. “And why do you think I did that?”
“Cause no one else was around,” she mimicked. He decided to ignore her tone, in favor of getting to the point.
“No, okay, well yes… but why do you think I didn’t just leave you here, as you seem to believe I should have?”
Anna ducked her head then, refusing to meet his eyes, and he didn’t miss the flush to her cheeks. “Because last time I didn’t stay here when you told me to.”
“Yes.”
“But I wasn’t going to do it again!”
“You shouldn’t have done it the first time,” he reminded her.
She sighed, studying the bedspread. “I know… but you already grounded me for that!”
“Anna, leaving you with Mycroft today wasn’t a punishment.” John gently tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. “It was so I knew where you were and that you were safe while I was working on a case. Do you understand the difference?”
She sighed again and nodded. “It’s just…” She trailed off and John waited, letting her collect her thoughts. “It just made me feel like you don’t trust me.”
He took her hands in his. “Well, when you don’t follow my instructions, when you don’t do what you say you’re going to do, that does affect how much I trust you.” He squeezed her hands gently, clearly noting her pained expression. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you at all or that you can’t earn that trust back. But, sweetheart, it’s really important that I have confidence that you’ll do what I say and be where I expect you to be.”
“I know,” Anna sniffed. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are and you don’t have to keep apologizing. I just want you to understand why I felt I couldn’t leave you home today, okay?” She nodded again and John gave her a wry smile. “Was staying with Mycroft really all that terrible?”
Anna considered. “He did make me tea… well, I don’t suppose he actually made it himself.” She giggled at the thought and John chuckled along with her. “But we had tea, and mostly I just read. Or tried to read while really just thinking about how annoyed I was.”
John smiled and leaned in towards her. “So, have you forgiven me yet?”
She looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess so…”
“You guess so? What kind of answer is that?” John glanced down at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “We’re going to have to do something about that.” He reached for her suddenly, finding her most ticklish spots with practiced ease. She shrieked and tried to escape, but John’s greater strength and soldier’s reflexes gave him a distinct advantage. Within moments, she was giggling uncontrollably.
“Okay, okay,” she managed in between giggles. “I forgive you!” John immediately stopped and pulled her into his arms. She hugged him back.
“Tell you what,” he started, resting his chin on top of her head. “I will allow you to stay home alone again...”
“Really?” She interrupted, craning her neck to look up at him.
“Really,” he affirmed. “But this is your chance to prove that you can be responsible. So if I tell you to stay in the flat, you stay in the flat, barring an absolute emergency. And if you don’t, I will feel no guilt whatsoever about leaving you with Mycroft whenever I see fit. Clear?”
“Clear,” she replied, nodding against his chest.
“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Can we go eat dinner now? I’m starved.”
Anna giggled. “Me too.”
Releasing her, John stood up and turned to help her off the bed. When they appeared in the kitchen moments later, Mary smiled to see them hand-in-hand.