Something About a Daughter
Genre: Family, Humour, FUTURE FIC
Pairings: Ensemble pairings, all background, at Greer and Sam's wedding
Main characters: Greg, John, Sherlock
Greg, father of the bride, proud new dad to a bouncing brand new son-in-law, and thoroughly knackered from the events of the day and three consecutive dances on what amounted to an empty belly – the bride, the bride's mother, and Ciana Jane, the maid of honour – sat down with a huff of relief, setting his freshly poured glass of ale down with a clink.
"You're glowing almost as much as Josie is," John observed lightly.
"Well, Greer, Molly, and Ciana are primed to celebrate. Me, not so much. God, lads, it's been a long bloody day. I'm tempted to cut out early and let Molly find my sorry-ass remains in the morning, face down on the pillow and sleeping like the dead."
"You must be working up an appetite then. At least as substantial as Josie's is of late," Sherlock said casually, his last few words echoing into his glass.
"Bloody starving," Greg said. "I barely had appetite this morning and now that the formalities are finished with, my nerves have settled and my belly's starting to think my throat's been cut. John, I know you understand, you've given a daughter away. Sherlock it's only a matter of time before Daniel and Grace get to this point. We all know it."
Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement, John said nothing, only sharing a glance of agreement with Sherlock at Greg's casual observance.
"Indeed," John said.
"I wonder if Josie would like a little dance, then?" Sherlock said, returning the little elbow nudge from John with a little elbow nudge of his own.
"I'm sure she would, she's finally in good spirits today. Bollocks, she's been moody lately. I think she could do with a soda and lime, hold the vodka, and a damned big hug."
Greg turned slowly to look at the silly buggers he sat with. "Yes, I've figured it out too. I'm not stupid, you know. I've seen enough pregnant women in my day to recognize it a mile away."
His two companions merely raised their glasses. "Congratulations, Grandpa Greg," John said, with a bright grin. "May my namesake be as wonderful a father as you are."
"And you as well, Grandpa John," Greg said, raising his own glass. "What do you think, Sherlock? Can he rise to the challenge?"
"Hmmm… I think so, most assuredly," Sherlock replied softly, allowing his gaze to wander to Sally, dancing with Julian.
"Josie isn't as far along as Rosie is." Sherlock paused here, shrugging towards Greg.
"Still, she's glowing like a bloody yule log, John, what do you think?" Greg mused.
At this, John laughed out loud. "I think she's absolutely stunning and still I'm having a bit of trouble accepting this. Truthfully, maybe I'm just hedging a bit because Rosie's… well she's my little lamb."
"True enough," Greg acknowledged. "Your little lamb is also a married woman, John, and has been for quite some time now. I think it's just easier when a son is going to make you a grandparent than when a daughter is. There's just something about a daughter, isn't there?"
"Indeed. A daughter-in-law as well, apparently," Sherlock observed. "Well, nearly your daughter-in-law anyway. I give that two months, myself. I'm available for best man duties should Scott be unavailable. Just, you know… pointing that out."
"I've a sudden urge to dance with my little lamb," John said, wistfully, as he gazed over at Rosie, who now stood chatting with Emma and Kieran, her hand draped over her abdomen. They all looked over in time to see Julian saunter over, draping an arm around his wife, kissing her temple and whispering something into her ear.
"Go on then, I'll guard your drink," Sherlock urged, as John rose to take leave of them.
"You as well, Greg," he said, "You know I'm not a fan of bourbon, your beverage is safe with me. Give my regards to Josie, and tell Sherla I'll be around shortly for that dance she promised to her old Uncle."
"I will," Greg promised, as he rose to his feet.
"You know, Sherlock… it wouldn't hurt you to dance a few with Grace. I've noticed she loves a good dance, she obviously gets that from you. Take it while you can, mate. She'll not be your little girl forever. You can take our word on that." At this, Greg winked, as John, standing beside him observing, smiled and nodded in agreement.
Sherlock watched his two best friends depart, wondering whimsically if he really would someday be walking Grace down the aisle to give her away to Daniel Watson. He smiled briefly at the thought, then shook his head. The whole idea was ludicrously premature, after all. His baby girl was still just a baby. True, she was older than Daniel, but still. She had a lifetime to go yet before even thinking about marriage.
Yes though, he wholeheartedly agreed, thinking about it. There certainly was something about a daughter.