Chapter Text
“How was school?”
Rosie tossed her bag down by the table in the study as she wandered through to get a snack. Sherlock was clicking away at a website and hadn’t even turned to greet her. “Dad, I know what you’re doing. You can’t distract me with pleasantries.” She grabbed a pack of crackers before returning and leaning on the table.
Sherlock smiled and looked at her. “Go on, then. Deduce away, kiddo.”
“You’re scrolling through a website with pictures of happy and extremely diverse families while starting a ‘small-talk’ conversation that I know you actively despise so you have something you want to talk about. Papa recently suggested we watch that American show about a foster family fittingly titled The Fosters. Obviously you are afraid of me being eleven in two months and growing up so fast so you are looking at getting another kid and with papa’s big heart he’d want to help a kid in a bad situation. All this adds up to you wanting to ask me about fostering kids.” Rosie rattled through the process quickly with great confidence before looking to Sherlock for confirmation. “I think it’s good; I’ve always wanted a sibling.”
With a nod, Sherlock pulled the website back up and tilted the screen in her direction. “There’s an information session this Saturday in town, are you okay if your papa and I go?”
“Only if I can get that crystal growing kit for my birthday,” Rosie quipped before sitting at her table to get started on her homework.
The following months were filled with many long training sessions and in-home checks to make sure the house was suitable for fostering. It took almost a year before they got the call for their first placement.
“Hello, this call is for Mr. Sherlock and Dr. John Watson-Holmes?”
“This is John,” the doctor answered, leaning to his husband and gripping his hand tight.
“I’m calling to let you know that we have an emergency placement; twin girls, 7 years-old, need a home until their birth-mother can establish a home for them. Would you and your family be prepared for that?”
John glanced at Sherlock, getting the nod of approval before excusing himself from the sidelines of Rosie’s football match. “We would love to,” he answered, walking away to discuss the details.
That evening, John left Sherlock to watch the game and drove to pick up the twins, Maya and Casey. The three of them were battling to settle who got top bunk, Maya biting her sister to get her way and John struggling to control the situation.
“Papa! You missed it!” Rosie’s voice came booming up the stairs followed quickly by her, still wearing her mud-caked uniform. “I scored and it was-” She trailed off as she saw the lights on in the guest room. Despite months of prepping for this situation, seeing her papa caring for other kids twisted at her stomach. He’d missed her first goal for these two demon-children. “You must be Casey and Maya,” she said, plastering a Sherlock-level fake smile on as she took in the girls' wild demeanor.
“I’m Maya,” Casey declared with a cheeky grin.
“No! You’re a liar! I’m Maya,” her sister quickly protested.
“To be honest,” John said, looking back at Rosie, “I’m not entirely sure which is which and they haven't stayed still long enough to figure it out. Congratulations on your goal though, that’s amazing! You’ll have to do it again when I can be there.”
“For sure,” Rose said before glancing at the stairs. “Dad and I picked up take-away. I’m gonna help him get plates and then dinner is ready.” She nodded and took off, dropping her bag in her room before heading downstairs.
Maya and Casey were only with them for a month before they were reunited with their mother, and the night they left, Rosie curled up on the couch with her dads and watched a movie, grateful to be able to hear everything without the two girls screaming constantly. The next months were filled with a half-dozen placements, most extremely short-term before being reunited with their parents or other family members. They always left the house quiet and Rosie extra snugly.
Their most recent placement, Zack, had been with them through Christmas which was difficult on all parties. Rosie spent most of Christmas dinner playing chess with her uncle Myc to avoid him, and stared at all the gifts he got. She wasn’t jealous per say, but it still felt strange watching all the adults, who only ever had her to dote upon, paying attention to this kid. Mrs. Hudson had knitted him a blanket almost identical to the one she’d gotten on the birthday she moved to her “big-girl” bed. It was entirely unfair.
Three days after he left, they got the call for a “difficult case”; a young boy who’d been in the system since birth who at best had difficulties connecting but typically didn’t speak at all. They called him a sensitive boy but really meant that he was plagued by the flaws of the system and never received the help that he needed.
“Can I get him a present?” Rosie asked upon hearing this. “I want him to know there’s enough to share here.”