"So," Molly mused, as she set out plates for dinner. "You've strung them along, told our baby's first name, and shamelessly hinted at basically what amounts to a red herring… you are cruel, Gregory Francis Lestrade," she said, with a thoroughly satisfied smirk.
"Nobody said I couldn't be a bastard," Greg confessed with a shrug. "One of them is right. And both are agreeable to Bailey, though neither would admit it. They'd go into fits if I gave them a middle name," he said, as he pulled a dish out of the oven. Placing it on a hot pad, he snickered to himself.
"Bailey Frances," he said. "Pays homage to us both, yet is still unisex enough to keep those two gits guessing."
"So one thinks Mary and Mrs. Hudson are crackers, the other thinks they're quite sane. How do you break it to an army Doctor that he's wrong? Molly mused.
"It's worse than that, Love," Greg said, as he pulled Molly's chair out for her. "How do you break it to a pain in the ass egomaniac that he's right?"
"Well, I suppose," Molly said, as she settled herself in for what she had of late considered Greg's best dish, "we simply let our daughter break the news to them. From there," she concluded, "she settles their friendly bickering."