Rosie Watson was having trouble deciding, so she finally settled on taking all three with her. She really was going to need all three of them, when she thought about it, and they would remind her of not only three very special people, but a few very valuable lessons as well.
She'd been packing up her belongings to move out of 221B Baker Street, in preparation for moving in to a small flat with her best friend-turned fiancé, Will Holmes. The move had seemed a sensible one, they already had a flatmate lined up to help with expenses and to hold down the home fort while she and Will attended their college classes, for she'd already been accepted to Peel Centre, still referred to at the Yard as Hendon, the shortened name for the Hendon Police College.
As the name had been changed way back in the mid 1970's, even Uncle Greg - one of her mentors, and her inspiration for joining New Scotland Yard to begin with - wasn't old enough to have attended when it was still called Hendon, but still, the enduring reference remained.
While Molly Hooper-Holmes helped to carry the boxes down the stairs, she was met by Greg Lestrade, still a year or so away from retirement, who had arrived on a day off to help with the transition. After all, John had jokingly said, it was largely his fault that Rosie had wanted to become a police officer. Helping with the grunt work of moving her out was the least he could do.
Greg bounded up the stairs into the flat, which seemed as though it were a bit too empty all of a sudden, in spite of it already being a bit smallish and crowded to begin with.
"Rosie?" he called out lightly, as he took a quick glance around.
"In here, Uncle Greg," she called out from her room. Greg smiled in greeting to Sherlock, who, busy in the kitchen making tea and assembling a few scientific instruments for Will to take with him, grinned and waved in return.
Greg strolled down the hallway, gingerly making his way past the boxes neatly stacked in the small hallway. Peeking in to Rosie's room, he smiled and shook his head.
"Getting a little old for these, aren't we Police Cadet?" He winked at his honourary niece as he walked into the room and pointed to three well-loved stuffed toys, that she'd had since she was a baby.
Rosie smiled at him and stuck her tongue out. "NOT REALLY!" she said, in her best Lestrade impersonation, evoking a booming burst of laughter from the DI. Reverting to her own voice, she said, "They all have a special place, Uncle. This one here," she said, holding up a stuffed toy bee, "Uncle Sherlock gave me this one of course. This one reminds me to always be observant and aware, and to be clever. And this one," she said, holding up the stuffed Winnie the Pooh, "Dad gave me this one, and it reminds me to think with my head and not my ego, and to be smart."
Greg shook his head, chuckling lightly. He reached over and picked up the small stuffed polar bear he'd brought back for her from a holiday in the Canadian sub-arctic so many years ago. "Clever and smart, eh? Do I want to know what this one means, then? I suppose it's just a reminder to pack your woolies for those graveyard shift foot patrols you're going to find yourself on soon enough?"
Rosie laughed, walking over to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Aw, no Uncle. That one from you reminds me to never lose sight of my humanity no matter how jaded and cynical this job will try to make me," she said, giving him a one armed hug, "and to always, always be wise."