Rosie's Hen Night

Genre: Family, Humour, Romance, FUTURE FIC

Pairings: Julian and Rosie, Greg and Molly, Kieran and Emma, John and Alex, Greer and Sam (background)

Main characters: The ladies of Baker Street and associates ensemble

Author's note: This chapter is directly connected to "Julian's Wedding Gift", which gives detailed background to the end of this chapter, which places heavy hints that the women in Rosie's life know a bit more than they're letting on about why exactly they think her wedding ensemble is so perfect for horseback riding.

"So then Mrs. Hudson pointed out that they'd only been out for TWO HOURS," Grace said, the only one of the group to not be bordering on soused.

Grace Holmes, legal only with a parent in attendance, nevertheless enjoyed a good girls' night out, and Rosie's Hen Night was as good a time as any to let loose and maybe indulge in a glass.

"Well Dad remembers cluing for looks, Uncle Sherlock throwing up on a carpet, and not much else until Uncle Greg woke them up in the cells," Rosie said. Slightly less buzzed than most of them, Rosamund Watson nevertheless giggled helplessly.

"Daddy, as you know," Greer said, taking a random pull from her pint, "suffers no gladly fools. Wait," she said, her brows furrowing over dark chocolate brown eyes, concerned that she seemed to be confused. "That didn't come out right…"

"We know what you mean, love," Emma said, giggling over her glass of wine. She turned her attention to Greer.

"You, my darling, beloved, shiny brand spanking new niece, have a low bullshit tolerance. Anything above your limit makes you positively break out in hives. And besides, as you are my dear husband's subordinate with the Yard, well rather than a niece then that practically makes you my… step… no… that's not right. Surrogate… no… that's not right either… oh BUGGER. Well, you're practically MY daughter too. Oh, I'VE got it! You're my DD. My Detective Daughter!"

Greer took one wide eyed look at Emma before bursting into giggles. "Oh, well there's always room for one more mum," she said, draping an arm around Emma and planting a soft kiss to her cheek. "Kieran is just the BEST boss. Why Scotland Yard hasn't seen a DI the likes of him since Daddy led his team with him and Auntie Sally years ago. But you are wholly correct, Detective Mummy," Greer said solemnly. "I have a phemonil… phenol… oh sod it. A REALLY low bullshit tolerance."

"She's Greg's daughter alright," Molly said lightly. "Through and bloody through. So yeah darling, what were you saying about your Dad?"

Greer contemplated her glass for a moment, then her own shiny engagement ring. She smiled a moment, thinking of Sam, and the adventures they'd had on both sides of the pond whilst finding their way back to eachother.

"Yes. Well, he suffers no fools gladly, just like me… and after they'd been lodged in cells for the night to sober up, well Uncle John maintains Dad was a little bit meaner than was strictly necessary first thing."

"Honestly, WAS he really THAT mean?" Emma asked.

"NOT REALLY!" Greer nearly shouted, before bursting into giggles. "That is to say, Dad was just having a bit of fun. Honestly had Uncle John and Uncle Sherlock just bloody stayed put at 221B and not let that client in, they would have woken up somewhere in Mrs. Hudson's house, safe and sound, somewhat the worse for wear, not having had to pay to deep clean a carpet, but at least they wouldn't have had Daddy taking his bit of fun at their expense."

"If you ask me they had it coming," Molly muttered, herself bordering on "feeling no pain". "Then again, I was engaged to whatziznuts at the time and maybe a bit bitter towards my lot in life. Tom I think was his name? Oh that bloke was SO bloody thick. It's no wonder I found myself inching myself closer and closer to Greg as that interminable reception wore on."

"Yeah," Sally finally said, chiming in after observing in amusement and too entertained to interrupt. "I heard about that. He inched himself closer to you as well, whether he realized it or not. Or so I've been told. It's a wonder you didn't end up just saying to hell with it and shagging him that night."

Molly stared at Sally in mock horror. "Shagging him?! Greg!? That night?!"

Sally merely cleared her throat cheekily. "Well yeah. Or at the very least pushing him into a corner and snogging him until his stubble wore off."

"Well now, I won't lie. I was tempted to do that," Molly said, clearing her throat lightly and pretending to concentrate on swirling her glass.

"Shag him, or snog him?" Emma asked slyly.

"Either or. Both perhaps. Okay both PROBABLY," Molly finally confessed. "Well what can I say, he was damned dishy in that suit, and I was officially escorted by an idiot whose sole mission in life was to emulate Sherlock Holmes. In hindsight, it was bloody creepy."

Greer grinned to herself. She always had a feeling that there was more to her parents' history than anyone ever let on - including them, to themselves.

"Wonder how the lads are getting on?" Grace asked, contemplating her indulgence - a glass of single malt, Greer's treat. It was Grace's solitary drink that night and she'd wanted it to be worth something.

"I would imagine Julian is scared shitless but over the moon with excitement at the same time," Greer said, frankly – as was her preferred style.

"He's been waiting on this day for a very, very long time," Emma said, her voice beginning to catch. "As have Kieran and I. Oh love," she said, placing a hand over Rosie's, "Imagine the joy of having a day arrive when you've known all along it was coming and it was just a matter of time. Oh we're blessed, Rosie, my beautiful girl."

Alex, who had been steadfastly sipping on her own cocktail, hadn't said much to this point. "We're all blessed really," she finally said. "Rosie has made a lot of dreams come true, I reckon."

Rosie looked at her step-mum, her god-mum, and her mum-in-law as of the following day, and started to tear up.

"I call no fair," she said, as her voice caught. "I'm not THAT special. I'm just a small town girl living in a lonely world… "

"Oh SOD IT, Rosie," Greer said, rolling her eyes hard. "If you're quoting song lyrics you've clearly had a bit much to drink. Anyway London is HARDLY a small town, and you're HARDLY lonely. I say we abandon ship after we've finished this round and find our way home. Surely the men aren't back yet from their pub crawl and the last thing any of us needs is me waking everyone up in cells like an all inclusive asshole. Just like my wonderful, handsome daddy did all those years ago."

"Greer, darling," Molly was pained to point out, "I'm afraid Kieran would be the one to wake all of us up. You'd be sleeping it off in cells with the rest of us rat-arsed little hens."

"Oh, he WOULDN'T," Greer stated flatly and firmly.

"He would," Emma confirmed. Alex snickered with Sally, as Molly smugly emptied her glass.

"Well then, Mum, ladies, I think we'd best be on our way back to Baker Street," Grace said.

The next morning, while a couple of their number were feeling just a tad southerly, for the most part, strong coffee and a hearty breakfast courtesy of Greg, Kieran, Sherlock, and John (who themselves seemed to be in somewhat need of a cure) appeared to fix them up properly. The women associated with 221 Baker Street were primed, locked, and loaded for a wedding they'd been waiting on for many, many years.

Greer, grudgingly dolled up in a real dress, with flats, stood behind Rosie with Alex and Molly nearby. "I can't believe you found WHITE riding boots, Rosie," Greer said, admiringly, with a subtle wink towards the other women.

"Oh, horses are just… I think if I'd been born anything other than human, I like to think I'd have been a horse. The only thing that makes me happier than being in saddle is being with Jules," she said softly.

"Well, I think you're stunning, and you truly found a wedding gown to suit your spirit," Molly said, coming up from behind and wrapping her arms around her goddaughter. "And just look at it, it's perfect for a little ride too."

Emma gave Molly a small jab to the ribs. "Indeed, you look like you could hop right onto a horse straight out of the chapel."

Rosie laughed softly. "Oh, that's a grand image, isn't it. With my groom who hasn't ridden a horse since he was a wee lad, and even then he only did it to please me."

"I suppose you're right," Emma said. "What a beautiful sight it would be though, wouldn't it. Julian in his full Yarder dress blues, and you in your bridal attire. Oh, it would have been breathtaking, wouldn't it?"

"Well yes," Rosie conceded, shrugging, "but this is Jules' wedding too and it's enough for me to be married here at the stables. My heart is so full already, Mums," she said, turning around, gathering Alex and Emma to her.

"Ladies," Molly said, checking her watch, "the hour is upon us. Rosamund, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be Auntie," the bride replied, with a radiant grin.

"Right then, shall we ladies?" Molly asked, as she opened the door, fired a fast text to John and Greg, and motioned everyone out.