For a Good Cause

Genre: Family; Humour; Mild Romance

Pairings: Baker Street ensemble including Julian and Rosie, Kieran and Emma, Phillip and Jackie

Main characters: Baker Street and beyond ensemble

"PISS OFF, ya damned Git!" Sally Donovan-Holmes asserted, as her husband leaned in for a week long overdue and desperately yearned for kiss.

"Oh, come ON my beautiful Old Plod. It's just a peck. A little kiss. I YEARN for it, my darling. I MISS it so, you've denied me for a veritable LIFETIME…" Sherlock pleaded, putting on the best dramatic performance he had managed since the time he had begged to be allowed to bring an experiment or three into their kitchen.

"I am NOT kissing you as long as you've got that THING residing on your upper lip. I don't care how full and sexy and pouty those lip are. I don't care how desirable they are. As long as you remain unshaven I shall not grace them with MY lips."

Sally glared at Sherlock, her lips pursed. "Besides," she softened slightly, brushing his face with her hand. "I KNOW it's only for a few more weeks… but still…"

"It's for a good cause, my girl," Sherlock insisted. "My Homeless Network has been working night and day panhandling extra just for it… Billy has been keeping me up to date on their progress… I've promised extra favours for them for the efforts…"

Downstairs on the main level, John Watson was facing a similar predicament.

"Maybe Mary thought it was sexy, or at least tolerable…" Alex began, with narrowed eyes.

"Actually," John admitted, "Mary didn't like it much either. She just sort of… put up with it, because she loved me," he trailed off hopefully.

"OH, then," Alex countered, crossing her arms. "So I'm supposed to put up with THAT on my husband's face for the remainder of the month just because my beloved predecessor PUT UP WITH IT… now, mind, I love her because she loved you and she's Rosie's Mum... but she was NOBODY'S fool..."

"Oh no, Alexandra. Oh Love, no… Mary hated it. She finally admitted that… but she loved me, so it didn't matter in the end, it was just a small annoyance…"

"A TEMPORARY annoyance? John Hamish Watson I had better have this in writing…"

John laughed out loud at this, whether from stress or frustration, he could never be sure in retrospect.

"You DO have it in writing. And the staff at the surgery are keeping track. Oh, it's for such a good cause, Love…"

In another flat in London, not far from Baker Street, a certain little blonde lass gazed at her young Irish laddie.

"Oh, Jules," Rosie giggled. "It's SO FUNNY! Daddy is growing this horrid moustache and Mummy Alex ABHORS it! I'm SO glad you're too young for that! Oh I couldn't let you kiss me otherwise!"

Julian Bailey laughed at this. "Well I'm glad to hear that Rosa, because MY Dad is on kissing suspension from Mum over all of this. He blames Mr. Greg for the order, but Mum doesn't buy it at ALL." Julian prefaced this by wrapping a single arm around his Rosa, and pressing a kiss upon her temple. "Might I apologize in advance, Rosa? There will be a day someday when I may grow my own… for this very reason."

Rosie paused at this. Finally, she replied, "Well, by then perhaps I may have gotten over it. Let's hope so, Jules?" she laughed, with a sly little smile. "Anyway, who's to know it won't suit you?"

In a certain townhouse in another part of London, a certain wiry forensics technician smiled warmly at his own wife, while their daughter looked on.

"I don't know, Daddy," Ciana Jane Anderson said. "I don't think it's THAT bad, really?"

"You SEE, Jaqueline?" Phillip said defensively. "Our beautiful, smart, incomparable daughter even thinks it's okay. You KNOW how brilliant she is, after all, and she clearly takes after her mother, now don't you my beautiful little princess?" he said, turning to their daughter.

Ciana regarded her father carefully, smiling. "I think it suits him, Mummy," Ciana finally said, turning to Jackie. "I don't know I'd like it ALL the time, but oh Mummy, it's ONLY for a few more weeks? And only ONCE per year… And it's for SUCH a good cause…"

"You've dragged our innocent little daughter in to this ON PURPOSE, Phillip," Jackie accused. "But, I can't say no to her either. Or YOU, you lanky blue eyed bastard..." Secretly, Jackie didn't think it was THAT bad, though she was grateful it was only for another three weeks.

Back at Baker Street, in the basement flat of 221C, a certain Detective Inspector steeled himself to defend his cause to his wife.

"Molly Girl… you know I've reason for allowing this to happen…" he pleaded, quite without shame or regrets.

"You had better make this worth my while, Gregory Joseph Lestrade," Molly said sternly, crossing her arms.

"Movember is not permanent, Love," Greg said. It's a full week through now that we've all enough growth to piss off our wives. Sherlock has the Homeless Network panhandling funds. John has his surgery patients tossing notes into a jar. I've my team raising money too, and Phillip and Kieran are both in the lead with that as they've both gotten Ciana, and Julian and Gareth canvassing at their schools. You know," he said seductively as he could manage under the circumstances, "word on the street has it that the other wives of 221 Baker Street are all on board with being the ones to shave their husbands' upper lips on November 30th… might this not be worth a little… donation?"

Molly paused at this, thinking to a prior conversation with the other wives. For as much as she preferred Greg to be either clean shaven or at the most, stubbly in the sexiest of fashions – an all out deliberate growth on any part of his face was a bit… disturbing to her. But Molly was used to improvising.

She had been around Sherlock enough to learn to follow the clues and roll with them. She had been around Mrs. Hudson long enough to embrace those twists and turns. And, she had been with Greg long enough to love without condition the ways in which their relationship would keep them both on their toes enough to keep life with each other exciting and invigorating – never boring or routine.

"Well…" she hinted, seductively. "There may be… BENEFITS… temporary of course… but after all a full MONTH of said benefits every twelve months… well I could learn to work with this…"

"Are you in cahoots with Sally and Alex, perchance? And probably Emma and Jackie as well?" Greg asked, suspiciously. This all seemed a bit too… EASY. A bit too rehearsed, in fact.

"Gregory Joseph, I've NO idea what the hell you're on about," Molly tsked, waving her hand dismissively. "Now, the benefits. All mine of course. First off, I have the rest of the month off from cooking duties. Deal with it as you must. If you've no time to actually cook, takeaway will work just fine. I've no problems with your methods, as long as our family is fed."

Greg nodded at this, listening carefully, feeling mildly victorious, whilst planning ahead how to meet this criteria...

Upstairs, Alexandra Watson stood with her hand firmly on her hips, regarding her husband carefully as he absorbed the terms of the agreement.

"Second of all, John," she said, "I expect a full massage once per week after last shift before the weekend. You may think being your nurse is an easy task, but I assure you, it comes with many stresses not necessarily related to you, and those can really bugger up the muscles. I'm not talking a romantic, leisurely massage either, so you can get THAT right out of your mind… Oh don't GIVE me that look, husband," Alex continued, her eyes narrowing in much the same way they did when giving Rosie and Daniel verbal warnings.

John sighed heavily. This Movember thing was turning into a right pain in the ass. But, he had more than one patient with the medical issues Movember was meant to raise awareness and funds towards, so he was nothing if not determined to stick this out. He thought about David, Terry, Patrick, Derrick… his survivors. Then thought with sad reflection upon Larry, Donny, Mike, Jack… who didn't make it. And then upon Frank, Adam, Kevin, Ryan… his fighters. Suddenly, he realized, the minor row with his wife was worth sticking it out.

Further upstairs, in 221B, Sally raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, her curls bouncing slightly with the movement – something Sherlock always found to be utterly endearing, under even THESE circumstances.

"Now of course," Sally said, feigning a reasonable tone, "Gracie and Michael are tidy tots, as a rule. But kids are kids and they can sometimes forget themselves a bit, MUCH like their father. As part of the deal, it will be up to YOU and YOU ALONE to clean up after them, as well as prepare meals…"

"Oh damnit anyway, Old Plod, you know the only thing I know to make for dinner are bloody reservations…!" Sherlock protested.

"I didn't say you had to MAKE them, only that you have to PREPARE them. We can do takeaway, and Mrs Hudson did leave us with many meals in the freezer that we must finish using up soon. Not to mention we have a standing date with the Lestrades and the Watsons to join the Baileys and the Andersons once per week…" Sally's smile softened as she placed her hands around Sherlock's waist. "I suspect those dinner dates may increase in frequency this month," she grinned teasingly.

"It'll be FINE, Git," she promised, as she finally kissed the full pouty moustached lips she had vowed not to touch for the rest of the month.

At the Bailey flat, Emma sat down with deliberate grace and smiled sweetly at her Irish husband.

"Grow it with a goatee and we have a deal," she finally said. "I've always wanted to see you with a goatee. I know you can't necessarily keep it what with the regulations and all, but there's always been something about a man with a neatly trimmed and groomed goatee that I've always found… oh what is that term they use in Saskatchewan?"

"Hella sexy, Mum," Julian volunteered, grinning. Standing next to him, Rosie raised an eyebrow. "It's the rough equivalent of 'dishy', I believe," Julian continued, with brave determination. "Oh MUM, don't give me that look, please? If I'm old enough to kiss Rosa then surely I'm old enough to say THAT."

"You're NOT old enough to kiss Rosie," Emma protested, while Kieran sat quietly, not quite yet daring to speak, while he absently scratched the itchy stubble of the fledgling moustache on his upper lip.

"Actually Love, he is. Sorry… our little boy isn't so little anymore, I hate to bring you up to speed like this, but they're actually… an ITEM now. Like… officially. Oh Son, stop looking at me like that. We all know it! Besides, everyone knows you're going to marry Rosie someday, so really, this was going to happen anyway."

"YOU ARE DEFLECTING, Kieran Patrick Bailey. And you are shamelessly using OUR son to do so too!" Emma accused.

Kieran stifled a hearty chuckle, managing to express it as a cough. "Guilty as charged, Love. A goatee, I think I can do this. There were no rules stated against a goatee WITH the moustache. I'm sure Greg will think it's fine."

In the end, the men of Baker Street, and their cohorts, managed to raise a tidy little sum for their cause.

The women of Baker Street, and their Sisters, with much glee, organized a party that November 30th.

Their men were excused from any and all duties, whilst a proper dinner party was organized, complete with the whole contingent of their offspring.

"One day," Rosie said teasingly, "I shall shave you like this, Jules…"

Julian sighed. "Well then Rosa, let's only hope you think a beard suits me…"

"What I think doesn't matter, really… You're not to only be my husband, you're also to be a copper someday, like Uncle Greg, and Auntie Sally, and your Daddy. Beards are against Yarder policy…"

Julian glanced at his mentors. His dad, Mr. Greg, Mr. John. Mr. Sherlock, Mr. Phillip… and wondered how ever they were coping with their women… but not only that, trusting them all with a straight razor, of all things.

"Well then Rosa," Julian finally said. "Let's just hope that a beard on me suits YOU for a full 30 days in November, someday!"