Thanksgiving

Genre: Family, Friendship

Pairings: Greg and Molly, others background

Main characters: Greg, Molly, Johnnie, Scott, Greer

"You know what I was thinking, darling," Molly said one evening, as she and Greg curled up on the sofa.

Greg, multitasking between watching their three children play a board game on the floor, keeping an eye on the match on the telly, and copping the occasional VERY subtle feel on his wife, snuzzled her neck, murmuring, "What's that, Love?"

"Well, the McTavish's are going to be here in two weeks, FOR two weeks, and if memory serves, in Canada they celebrate Thanksgiving in October. If I'm not mistaken that will fall right in the middle of their holiday with us."

"Oh?" Greg said, his attention fully brought to the memory of their first Canadian Thanksgiving, courtesy of the Lutheran Church ladies in the small lakeside town Chris and Amy McTavish had settled in with their son Sam.

The timing of their visit that year had just happened to coincide with what they quickly came to know to be a delectable small town tradition in Canada – The "Fall Supper".

Alternatively, it was known as a "Fowl Supper", but in either case, rather than waste visiting time in the kitchen, the McTavish's had opted instead that year to support a local church ladies group and treat their fellow Brits to a feast.

"Are you suggesting a Baker Street Thanksgiving, Love?"

Molly laughed softly. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting. We could have everyone here, just like we do at Christmas. I know you can handle the bird and the stuffing, and I'm sure I can handle the side dishes. If we talk nicely to John perhaps he'll do some baking…"

"If John wants to share those duties with Mrs. Hudson, if she's willing, I'm sure we'd have all the baking we could ever need," Greg said thoughtfully. Molly smiled, knowing it had taken no effort whatsoever to get her husband on board with her idea. "Sherlock has been learning, slowly, I'm sure he can peel a few potatoes, and Sally is a genius with a pie.

"Daddy," a small voice asked, hopefully.

Greg turned to look into the intrigued, shining eyes of his son.

"Yes, Scottie?" he replied lightly.

"Did I hear someone say Canadian Thanksgiving? And you might cook?"

"Don't be silly, Scott," Greer gently chided. "Of course you heard that. We all did. Can we help, Mummy?"

"There must be SOMETHING we can do?" Johnnie asked sweetly.

"Will it be roast turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and…" Scott trailed off, losing himself in a delectable memory. "No, what I meant to say was, shouldn't one of us supervise Uncle Sherlock?"

"Yes, Son," Molly replied. "Those things and more. Everything we had in Saskatchewan. And I think supervising Uncle Sherlock would be a very good idea. Are you volunteering, Scott?"

Scott smiled. For some reason, of his uncles, it had been Sherlock he'd bonded with more than Uncle John. Uncle Sherlock had been there to comfort him and speak to him plainly but gently when they had thought Toby had died, but when Scott had asked questions, Uncle Sherlock hadn't held back either.

"Yes, I think I might. Shall I have the first aid kit handy? You know I'm very good at that sort of thing…"

"You and John are both very good at it," Greg said plainly. "Perhaps you might both be on call?"

John beamed at this. "We'll BOTH watch after Uncle Sherlock," John promised. At this, Scott turned to his brother, nodding affirmatively.

"Oh, I can taste that stuffing already," Molly smiled, dreamily...