Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in her mind

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

She keeps on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

-Abba, Slipping Through My Fingers

"Hi Mum."

Mary turns to face her daughter. "Well, well," she says lightly. "If it isn't Little Miss Buttinsky." Then she opens her arms and Rosie rushes into her embrace, obviously relieved that this hasn't turned out to be the final straw on her mother's already overburdened back.

"John Watson says to tell you he's sorry for earlier. He wants us all to have dinner tomorrow - not just me and him and Sherlock Holmes and David Greene, but you too if, if you'd like." Rosie gets the words out in one great, rushing breath, then falls silent as her mother continues to hold her. "I'm sorry too," she adds in a mumble, her face buried in the warm spot where her mother's shoulder meets her neck.

Mary kisses the top of her head, tightens her hug, then lets go and steps back to regard her daughter, studying her closely. Their eyes are the same color but Rosie's are wider, rounder, and not just because she's nervous.

There's nothing Morstan-like about them except for that cornflower blue shade of the irises, but there's nothing cat-like about them either. No signs of anything Sherlockian about her physically, but her mind is certainly more than clever enough to have come from a combination of his genes and hers. She's got a bit of a John Watsonish temper but so does Mary so that's no clue.

The only one she can't see any sign of, physically, emotionally or otherwise is David. Well, except for the blonde hair, but Rosie's is closer in shade to Mary's own white-blonde tresses where David's is a darker gold, now woven with fine threads of silver.

"I don't really look like any of them," Rosie says, accurately guessing (deducing?) her mother's thoughts.

"Not really, no," Mary agrees with a small smile. "I suppose it would have been easier if you did, or maybe it would have been harder. I'm not really sure what difference it would have made; would I have stuck to my guns to raise you myself, or would I have gotten in touch with whoever it was, let them decide to be a part of your life or not? I wish I could say, one way or another, but I can't. Sorry," she adds, not sure which part she's apologizing for but knowing she owes her daughter an apology nonetheless.

Rosie's next question is a bit more difficult for Mary to answer. "So why didn't you try to find out which one was my dad?"

Mary closes her eyes. "Because I didn't want you to think any less of me, and, well, I didn't want them - no, I didn't want John - to know about the other two," she admits, her last secrets revealed, to herself as well as to Rosie. "I told myself it was that I didn't want to be a burden, that it was to prove I could take a broken heart better than my mother had. That I could raise you on my own without any help from someone who might resent me, or worse - you. All of that was true, but deep down I always knew it was more about pride than anything else."

Rosie just nods as Mary continues, "I was a teeny bit selfish, too. Wanting to keep you all to myself."

They're in the small sitting room they share in their part of the Villa Rosa. Growing up, Rosie's room opened into it just like Mary's still does. The year before she started uni she'd asked to have a bit more privacy, and had moved into the larger bedroom just down the hall.

The old bedroom remains as it was, unused, although Mary keeps telling herself she'll turn it into a private study or office, a place for her to go over the books in private, away from the small office she has near the front desk. One of these days, when she has the time and the money…

Money, money, money/always sunny/in a rich man's world…

The lines from the song run briefly through her mind but it's not money she needs to worry about today. Her daughter's wedding is two days away and her daughter's potential fathers are here today. More than enough to occupy her mind. "So, Rosie-love, what do you think of them?"

Rosie shrugs. "I haven't really had a chance for it to sink in yet - and I haven't met David Greene yet. I did see him, but he was chatting up Aunt Meena - was that you?" she asks with a twinkle in her eyes. "She's ready for someone new after that horrible man she married in the UK." Rosie had always refused to call him 'Uncle Sebastian', not that Mary could blame her.

"Time will tell," she says lightly. "I've arranged for you to have a late breakfast with him tomorrow, if you're up to anything so weighty after your hen night!" She cocks her head to the side. "Have you told Gwen and Stacey about any of this? I assume you told Danny, since he's been conspicuously avoiding me this evening - twice I saw him see me and duck out of the way."

"Guilty conscience, yeah," Rosie admits. "He knew I found the thumb drive but he didn't know that I'd invited them until I told him they were here. Gwen and Stacey only just found out before I came here," she adds, looking a little guilty herself - at having kept them out of the loop, most likely, rather than for invading her mother's privacy. But then, she's already apologized for that, and Mary's not the type to demand multiple apologies for the same crime. Especially if the first one is as sincere as the one Rosie had voiced at the beginning of this conversation.

"Well, I can't say I don't understand why you did it," Mary admits. Time for her side of the confession-and-forgiveness session. "Once you were old enough, I should have explained things to you, let you decide whether or not you wanted to contact them and find out the truth."

They've settled onto the comfortably worn settee that had been a gift from Meena and her sisters when Mary had announced her decision to settle permanently here. Mary's arms are around her daughter's shoulders, and Rose, rests her head against her mother's chest like she used to when she was little and in need of comfort. "So why didn't you?" she asks as her mother strokes her soft golden curls.

Mary smiles softly to herself. "Because in my mind, you were never going to be old enough. You'll always be my little girl. Even after you went off to uni in Australia, even after you moved in with Danny and got engaged - even though you're about to get married, I couldn't stop thinking about you as my baby. I kept...putting it off, year after year, until I became too comfortable with things the way they are." She lets out a soft, semi-regretful sigh. "You'd stopped asking me about your father, so I just assumed you were happy with the way things were, too."

"I was, I am!" Rosie hastens to assure her, raising her head and looking her mother directly in the eyes. Offering her reassurances that, frankly, Mary wasn't sure she deserved. "But even if I stopped asking, I never stopped wondering. And, well, getting married is a big change, bigger than uni or even moving in with Danny." Mary notes with amusement the way her daughter primly avoids any mention or even hint of sex in this conversation. "So I thought, well, if one change is good, maybe another one could be, too."

"Having met two of the three candidates, do you still think that way?" Mary asks, gently prodding for a response to the question she'd put to her daughter earlier.

Rosie nods, resting her head against her mother's chest again after doing so. "Sherlock and John are both pretty amazing; they both seem open to the idea of being my dad. Which is, wow, absolutely the way I'd hoped they'd feel! I guess I got lucky there." In a small voice she adds, "It could have completely backfired on me, and I didn't even consider the possibility until John asked me to tell you he was sorry for whatever he said to you before. Was it awful?"

"Hurtful," Mary admits. "But…not entirely undeserved. Things were said, tempers were heated, he took a swing at Sherlock…"

"Sherlock?" Up comes Rosie's head, her eyes wide and curious. "Why?"

"Things were said," Mary repeats. "But it could have been worse. I told them they could stay or go for all I care but to be honest…" She tilts her head to one side, then nods. Decisively. "To be honest, I'm glad they stayed. It's given me a chance to get some closure, at least with Sherlock and David. Maybe with John too, although honestly, he owes me more of an explanation than I owe him!"

"The fiancée," Rosie says with a scowl. "Believe me, I plan to ask him about that tomorrow."

Mary smiles, a fond smile, at Rosie's fierce expression. "Mm, well, perhaps best leave that to me," she says. "You just focus on getting to know the man he is now, rather than the man he used to be, all right?"

"Mm," Rosie says, noncommittally, and Mary bites back a snort of laughter. That's my girl.

"So. Shouldn't you be getting ready for your hen party?" she asks, changing the subject - not abruptly, and not because the conversation's become awkward (how could it be any more awkward than it already was?) but because they've said all that really needs saying on that subject. At least for now; who knew how things would go after meeting David and then getting together for dinner?

Rosie gives her one last hug then jumps to her feet. "Yeah, I'm supposed to meet Gwen and Stacey down at the bar before we head off to the dance club. Are you sure you won't change your mind and come with us, you and Aunt Molly and Aunt Janine?"

"Oh no, you don't need your mother and honorary aunts crimping your style!" Mary says with a laugh. "Go, get ready, have fun. I'll see you in the morning - but not too early!"

With a laugh of her own and a wave good-bye, Rosie takes off for her evening of fun. Mary knows that the hen party and stag do plan to meet up at one of the tourist island's many clubs on the southern tip of Kalokairi, about an hour's drive from their own, more remote location. Let the young people have their fun; no need for the old fogeys breathing down their necks.

Besides, she thinks with a grin, the last thing Danny needs to see is his father being propositioned by Rosie's Aunt Janine.


End note: Thanks for reading and for your wonderful reviews so far! Not too many chapters left to go now.