All Is Well

Genre: Family, drama

Pairings: Greg and Molly, John and Alex, Rosie and Julian future hinted

Main characters: Greg, Rosie, John and Julian background

"Shouldn't Daddy have texted you by now Uncle Greg?" Rosie said, as she cuddled close to him on the sofa at 221A, seeking comfort and reassurance.

"He will, lass. No worries, Julian is in good hands," he said, giving her a squeeze and a soft kiss to her temple. "It's just that he's very ill and it's taking a bit of time to fix what's wrong and set him to rights again." Greg tightened his arm around the young girl.

Rosie tried not to be impatient, but when she and Julian had been busy with a homework project at 221A and he had suddenly doubled over in pain, she kicked herself for not doing something about it sooner when she first noticed that he wasn't well.

He was quieter than usual, and his voice revealed something that gave her a distinct impression that something wasn't right with her Jules, that he was hurting badly in some way.

He had been pale, and favouring his right side unconsciously. His focus didn't seem to be there, and his voice, normally already softspoken, was barely above a whisper.

Rosie didn't necessarily know what that meant precisely, but she knew something was very wrong.

When she had cried out for help, after Julian had doubled over, her dad had arrived in a flash, and rushed him suddenly towards the ground level door. Carrying him cradle style and shouting to Greg to watch Rosie, John had been grateful to see Greg rushing up the stairs to meet him.

"Can't be sure but I think appendicitis," John said, as Greg got the door for him and wordlessly handed him Mrs. Hudson's car keys. "Silly brave little bugger, Rosie says he's been off for days and hasn't complained a whit. I think it may be near bursting based on his symptoms. We've not a minute to lose."

"I'll look after Rosie, no worries. Keep me posted, John. You know Rosie will want updates and your daughter will be righteously pissed if you don't provide them."

John smiled briefly, then nodded in gratitude before whisking a sobbing and miserable Julian into Mrs. Hudson's car, the keys left accessible with strict instructions to not hesitate in case of emergency.

Greg bounded through the door to 221A, grateful for once that his own three and Daniel were gone with Molly and Alex, finding a confused and upset Rosie Watson.

So now he sat, an occasional text update from John, with an arm wrapped around Rosie, finally calmed with gravelly whispers and calming words. Now and then, he felt her breathing become jagged, and felt tears soak through his shirt.

In the operating theatre now. Confirmed acute appendicitis. It burst as he was being prepped. ~JW

Our poor little lad. Was he at least under when it burst? ~GL

Thankfully yes. Hurts like all bloody hell as a rule but he was already anesthetized. Not much time for the toxins to do damage either. ~JW

Thank God for small mercies then. Should I distract Rosie? ~GL

Please do. ~JW

Has she ever ridden a horse before? GL

A few minutes passed as Greg surmised John was considering the question with trepidation, and confidence, all rolled together in some weird sort of glorious consolation of paternal emotion.

No. But with you there guarantee she'll be fine with it. ~JW

Keep me posted John. ~GL

Absolutely. You as well. Thanks Greg. ~JW

"You probably don't know this about me Lass, but I have two hobbies that I fell to years ago when I was in the midst of my divorce."

Rosie smiled distractedly, still worried about Julian. "Your guitar, Uncle. You learned to play it."

"Yes," Greg nodded, as he navigated his way to the riding stables.

"I chose the guitar so I could toss it in the boot and take a drive. Sometimes I found a spot out in the countryside to play. But sometimes I just went to the stables. I've ridden since I was a young lad, just a bit older than Julian, but I hadn't done it in years after I grew up."

"Life got in the way, Uncle?" Rosie asked.

"Yeah," Greg chuckled softly. "Something like that."

"I've never ridden a horse before Uncle. I'm a bit… afraid." Rosie admitted, trying not to let her focus move back to her best friend, so very sick.

"Ah, no worries, Rosamund," Greg said, not quite brushing off her fears, but rather, trying to alleviate them instead. "I'll be right there beside you. I promise you I won't let anything happen to you. Have I ever?"

Rosie sighed. "No, of course not, Uncle."

"Anyway, I think you'll get along famously with Mugsie's Pride. She's a Shetland pony, so she's smaller, and probably a bit less frightening for you, and she has a wonderful gentle temperament. The stables recommend her for first time kids like yourself. You can call her Mugs for short. She's a very patient little mare."

Rosie seemed to settle her nerves a bit with that.

"Who is your horse, Uncle?" she asked.

Greg smiled, taking note of her phrasing. "Who", versus "what". Already, Rosie considered the horses to be friends, rather than objects.

"Oh, I have a couple," Greg said, as he shifted his focus between her and making the turns into the short roads leading to the stables.

"Today I'll see first if Golden Boy is available. He's a palomino gelding, oh Rosie, he's just beautiful. You'd love him. Maybe someday if you take to this we can put you on his back. He's called Goldie for short."

Rosie considered this.

"What if Goldie isn't available?" Greg noticed that Rosie seemed distracted, or starting to be, so he went with it.

"Well then, my other one is a thoroughbred gelding. He's sleek and beautiful, jet black. He's a bit spirited sometimes but I've been riding for years, mind." Greg said. "He seems to know your moods and reacts to them. I think if I ride him today he'll know and behave accordingly."

"What's his name, Uncle?" Rosie said, as she watched the countryside roll by. Greg smiled.

Mission accomplished.

"Peppercorn."

"Uncle, that's the lamest name EVER," Rosie protested, with a soft giggle.

"Yeah well, I only ride him, Lass, I didn't name him," Greg said, as he pulled into the parking spot.

When they had made their way to the stables, and Rosie had met Mugs, and satisfied herself that all would be well, Greg took only a few moments to check his phone.

Out of surgery. Textbook so far. Yes that's a good thing. ~JW

Shall I say anything to Rosie? She's distracted with Mugs. I'm inclined only if she asks. ~GL

Who the hell is Mugs? And yes, if she asks but otherwise leave be. ~JW

Her favourite Shetland pony. ~GL

Rosie doesn't have a favourite Shetland pony. ~JW

Oh, she does NOW. ~GL

Thanks again Greg. You're a Godsend. ~JW

I shall send pictures of your daughter once she's in saddle. ~GL

Once Greg had Rosie and himself both properly outfitted in riding boots and a helmet, and had boosted the nervous girl into her saddle with a reassuring squeeze of her hand and his warmest of smiles, he had mounted his own steed. Today, as it turned out, it was Pepper, and just as Greg towered over Rosie, Pepper towered over Mugs. Rosie was awestruck and instantly in love at the beauty, sleekness, and sheer size of the stunning thoroughbred her uncle was mounted upon.

"Do you think I might ride him one day?" she asked, completely smitten.

Greg had smiled. "Perhaps, if you want to continue. Maybe we can make this a regular outing. None of my kids are interested in riding, so maybe this can be our special thing. You'll soon enough outgrow the ponies, Lass."

Rosie beamed at this, instantly taken with the saddle, and the gentle grace and strength of the pony beneath her, not to mention the idea of having something special to share with Uncle Greg. Already, she couldn't wait to ride Pepper, or Goldie, with him.

"Easy, now," Greg urged gently, as they began to move. "Just relax. She'll walk for you, just hang on and don't be afraid. When you're ready, she'll trot," he said, moving next to her on his much larger horse.

Pepper didn't seem bored, so much, as resigned. He was a thoroughbred, and he preferred to gallop, full tilt, with Greg crouched down and giving him free rein, for he was a horse who was born to run. Greg loved that too, he found it to be liberating and utterly exhilarating after a particularly hard day, feeling his own spirit soar along with the steed he rode.

Mounted on Pepper, Greg's troubles vanished in the wind behind the wake of the ecstatic gelding. On the horse, he knew nothing but freedom and relief, and when Pepper finally slowed himself to a trot, and then to a walk, Greg felt gratitude that he'd been allowed to share in that burst of raw spirit.

But just as Greg understood what was needed, so, it seemed, did Pepper. The gelding huffed gently, walking patiently beside the much smaller pony that Rosie rode, as the young girl's confidence grew and Mugs seemed to sense it. As Mugs moved into a trot, so did Pepper.

"Is Goldie as big as Pepper, Uncle?" Rosie asked, as she found herself more and more at ease on her pony.

"Nearly. Horses are measured in hands, and a hand is four inches. Pepper here is 17 hands high. Goldie is 16 hands, roundabouts. I think you'd like eachother, lass. Horses and ponies seem to know a person's heart and intentions. That's probably why Mugs has taken to you so well."

"If I can't ride Pepper yet, may I ride Goldie, next time?"

Greg smiled, thinking how easy her birthday present was going to be this year. "We'll see, Lass."

So distracted was Greg with his afternoon on horseback with Rosie, that he hadn't thought to check his phone until a full 10 minutes past John's last message. Dismounting from Pepper, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to take a look.

All is well. Tell Rosie please. ~JW

A bit distracted? ~JW

Greg? ~JW

Sorry John. Yes distracted. She's a case of love at first sight. ~GL

Julian, or Mugs? ~JW

Both. But in this case Mugs. And Pepper. I'll tell her once she's shifted focus. ~GL

Pepper? Do I want to know who the hell Pepper is? ~JW

Not likely. Yet. ~GL

Never mind, I trust your judgement. Thanks for the photos btw. She's stunning on horseback. Looks a natural. ~JW

Just wait until you see her on Goldie next time. She's indeed stunning and a natural both. All is well. ~GL

Wait, Greg, who the hell is Goldie? ~JW

Greg laughed out loud at this, as he shook his head and slipped his phone back into his shirt pocket without bothering to respond to John just yet. Smiling with giddy relief, he turned to Rosie to help her down from her saddle. "Your dad's just texted with some very good news, Lass," he said, as he lifted her down.