Dear Diary

IceCream Before Dinner

Dear Diary,

My name is Rosamund Mary Watson but most people call me Rosie. I'm 9 years old (almost 10!) and I live with Dad and Papa Sherlock in "the famous 221B Baker Street flat" as my friends say.

They say dad and Papa are internet famous, which they are, but I don't want to be known for my dads.

Also dad says "you need to stop calling Sherlock 'papa' because we are not in a relationship, just friends, sweetie." Which I don't believe because I'm 9, not stupid. I can tell that Sherlock doesn't mind when I call him Papa, he secretly smiles when I do.

Anyways, I'm using this diary because Papa Sherlock says I "should write everything down because you don't know how to use your mind palace yet." That earned a an eye roll from Dad. Papa says he's going to teach me how to use my mind palace when I'm 10.

Sometimes when Dad and Papa have a difficult case they have to work late which makes me sad because I don't get to see them. But Molly (who is very kind to me and watches game shows on the Telly with me) comes to watch over me so I don't disrupt any of Papa's experiments, again.

The first time I ruined Papa's experiments I didn't really mean to. He had a bunch of those tubes on the table and, I think, 10 thumbs in the microwave.

Apparently the thumbs were to be left untouched "or else the integrity of the experiment would be compromised." But I had no idea what that meant because I was 6 the first time it happened. I was playing with the microwave while Dad started the bath for me, and Papa was also with him. (definitely not rubbing his back in a loving way..)

They didn't come running until they heard the obnoxiously long beep of the microwave. That's when I figured out I definitely did something wrong. Papa came running biting his lip to prevent screaming at me and Dad scooped me up and brought me into the bathroom. He said that everything was fine but I could still here Papa cursing over the running water of the bath.

After my bath Dad put me to bed and Papa came in after a while and sat next to me. I could tell he wasn't upset anymore but he was disappointed that I did what I did. I said sorry and he said he forgave me and gave me a kiss on my forehead before shutting the door behind him. I noticed that there were two pairs of footsteps going back to the living room.

The second, and last time, was much worse.

I was 8 and it had been a bad day for Papa. I can tell when it's a bad day for Papa because he doesn't have a case so he doesn't eat breakfast and doesn't talk to Dad and I when we ask him something.

Dad said not to get mad because he will be back to "normal" once he finds something to do. But I still got mad because he's my Papa and he shouldn't treat his family like that.

So when Papa was working on an experiment when I got home from school I waited until he went to the bathroom. (I had to wait a while because he gets carried away with his experiments.) I walked to the kitchen table was with all the test tubes filled with bubbly substances. I changed a few things around and then I wanted to mix some of the bubbly things together. So I did but then something went wrong... and then there was a small puff of smoke...and then it blew up.

It wasn't big but it definitely wasn't good that it exploded.

Papa came rushing in and his eyes filled with rage. I wasn't scared he was going to hurt me because I knew he wasn't but I didn't want him to be mad at me. I felt big hot tears rush to my eyes as he walked over to the table. I whispered that I was sorry before sprinting out of the kitchen to my bedroom.

I didn't stop crying and I didn't even think about coming out of my room until Dad got home from work. My face was wet in my pillow when I heard the click of my door opening. I excepted it to be Dad so I just kept crying but it was Papa who sat on my bed next to me. He put his hand on my back and sighed. It was quite obvious that he wasn't used to consoling crying children but it was okay because he was trying his best. I turned over onto my back and looked up at him.

I don't remember exactly what he said but something along the lines of, "Rosie, I'm not mad. I'm not upset or angry. I need you to know that those experiments mean a lot to me but you mean more. That's why I looked so angry because I couldn't believe that you could've gotten yourself hurt over my silly project. I love you and I need you to stay safe for your dad and I. So please don't touch my experiments when I tell you not to because I don't know what I would do if we saw you got hurt. Or worse."

And then I started crying again because I didn't want him to worry over me but I managed a slightly audible, "I love you too, Papa" which made him smile and then he walked out of my room. But he came back a little later with a bowl of ice cream and gave me a wink.

Dad didn't like me having ice cream before dinner, I think he knew that.

Signed, Rosie