8 years later.

"Papa! Papa, look what Daddy got me!"

Sherlock looked up and smiled as Rose came running towards him. He looked at the parcel in her hands and sighed. John had got her a kitten, of course. Sherlock swung his daughter onto his lap and lightly touched a finger to her nose.

"Daddy got you a kitten, didn't he?"

She giggled and nodded. "He said you wouldn't say no. You won't will you, Papa?"

She looked at him, all blonde curls and blue eyes and Sherlock sighed. He could deny her nothing. No-one ever needed to know that, of course.

"If you want it you can keep it, my little flower."

She smiled and threw her arms around him. "Yay!"

Sherlock hugged his little flower and smiled as John appeared in the doorway.

"Rose, Uncle Mycroft is here."

"Avez-vous votre sac de voyage?" Sherlock asked his daughter seriously.

Rose pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "Oui, Papa. Au revoir! Bye Daddy!"

She raced off and the two men smiled at each other. "I do wish you wouldn't teach her French, Sherlock. I barely know what she's saying half the time."

"And I wish you wouldn't teach her to obsess over jam and medicine like you do." Sherlock retorted. "She's seven, she shouldn't be able to describe a fatal wound."

"She shouldn't be able to have a better conversation in French than she can English."

Sherlock laughed. "Oh, John, how I love you!"

A faint pink spread over John's cheeks, like it did every time Sherlock confessed his love. "Sherlock I -"

"Shh." Sherlock whispered, putting a finger to John's lips. He pointed to the table, and John's eyes widened when he saw a large bouquet of roses.

"Sherlock, what -?"

"Happy anniversary, John."

John laughed as Sherlock kissed him. "And Mycroft decided to take Rose away tonight just by coincidence, I suppose?"

"Of course. He has no idea what I've been planning."

"And what have you been planning?" John asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Sherlock led John to the bedroom that they shared and opened the door, smiling as John gasped.

"Sherlock, it looks beautiful!"

Sherlock pulled John through the door then closed it. "Who cares about the room? I plan to be looking at something much more beautiful tonight."

John blushed then pressed his lips to Sherlock. "God, I'm so glad I married you."

"I knew that already." Sherlock smirked.

John smacked his arm. "No deducing in the bedroom."

"But if I didn't, I wouldn't have found that thing you like." Sherlock smirked again.

John pushed him onto the bed. "Shut up and shag me already."

Sherlock snapped a satlute that made John shiver. "Yes, Sir!" he purred.

19 years later

"Daddy! Papa blew up the table again!"

"Why, you little -!"

John sighed as giggles echoed from the kitchen. "I swear, I'm living with two children."

Rose appeared in the doorway, and as soon as John saw her he felt the familiar urge to lock her away so no-one could harm her. To him, she was still a knee-high little four year old that ran around jabbering in mixed French and English. Now, she was tall and beautiful, and John cursed her having Sherlock's genes. Thanks to them, no-one could take their eyes off her.

"Daddy, Papa want me to tell you that he's going shopping."

John raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure you heard him right?"

She nodded. "He said there was no milk, and that he was going to buy some more."

John's mouth fell open. "He what?"

"Well," she grinned. "I asked him to, so he said yes."

John chuckled as he heard the door open and close. "You really have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

Rose grinned and nodded. "I'm half Watson, aren't I? That's what we're supposed to do."

30 years later

Sherlock walked out of the hospital room and looked at Rose. "He wants to say good bye to you."

Rose's face fell. "It's that bad?"

Sherlock hesitated, before nodding. "He'll be in hospital for the rest of the week. It's not very likely he'll make it."

Rose glared. "Did he come up with that or did you?"

Closing his eyes in pain, Sherlock forced back the tear threatening to spill from his eyelids. "He did. I refuse to believe it, but he wanted me to tell you the truth."

"Oh, Papa." Rose hugged him. "He'll be fine."

Sherlock let out a shaky breath. John would be fine, of course he'd be fine. He wouldn't die at all.

I'm sure. Come on, little flower. We should inform your Uncle."

"Papa, he probably knew before we did."

45 years later

Rose stood in front of the grave, smiling sadly at the names it bore.

Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes

"Salut, Papa. Hello Daddy."

A tear ran down her cheek and splashed onto the flowers in her hand. "Harriet sends her love, she misses her Granddad, and she keeps talking to the picture of her grand-pere. I know you hate it Papa, but the picture with the hat is her favourite."

A little dark-haired girl ran up to Rose. "Mama!"

Rose placed the flowers in her hand onto the foot of the grave and swung her daughter up into her arms.

"Au revoir, Papa. Bye, Daddy."

As she walked away, a light rain fell on the flowers that she had left.

Pink carnations and yellow zinnias.

I'll never forget you. Daily remembrance.

Rose didn't look back, so she never saw the flowers blow away and a new flower appear in their place.

Orange blossoms.

Everlasting love, marriage.

A.N. - Well, that's done now. =( Please review and tell me what you thought. And to booda77, when I finish the 'what happens next', I'll send you it. I just don't want this story to be bumped to an M, as I'd prefer that people didn't have to search for it =)