The ride to Llanfoist was very scenic. Lush green deciduous and evergreen trees lined the path, and a river could be heard bubbling somewhere nearby. Julia was in the lead and Mycroft close behind her; he was pointing out little creatures, plants, and birds to an awestruck Julia. This gave Holmes and Watson a chance to talk.
"Holmes, she is smiling, and laughing, and talking!" Watson said utterly amazed at what one day had done to his little Julia.
"Yes, it is amazing. Maybe now I can convince her to return to her studies of analytical tactics with me. No, she probably never will." Holmes sighed, remembering that it was because of him and his analytical mind that her mother was killed.
"She might, Holmes, she just needs the right reason." Watson said, patting his solemn looking friend on the shoulder and speeding up his horse to reunite with Mycroft and Julia.
When they reached the stately inn, Julia saw a girl about her own age wearing a green dress playing in the field in front of the building; she had blonde hair and a pale, almost shimmering complexion.
The girl ducked when she turned to see a Welsh pony coming her way in a full canter. But Julia pulled the horse to the side to slow it down.
"You are good with horses!" the girl said with admiration as she stood up from the ground.
"I guess so." was Julia's response as she dismounted her horse and turned to look at the girl.
"My name is Rowan. My father owns the inn." the girl smiled as she extended her hand to Julia.
"My name is Julia. I am not from around here, I am not even from this country." she laughed as she shook the girl's hand.
At that moment, the others rode up, talking amongst themselves; with Mycroft and Watson hanging back. Holmes noticed Julia shaking hands with Rowan and rode up, "Who is this, Julia. Making friends already." he chuckled, bending down and patting Julia on the back.
She looked up at Holmes, "This is Rowan. Her father owns the inn." She turned to Rowan, "Rowan, this is my godfather, Mr. Holmes."
"Your godfather is Mr. Sherlock Holmes! That must make you; oh, what is his name? You must be Dr. John Watson's daughter! And your mother, she is the one whose treasure was lost, I am sorry to hear about that. I am sure she is doing fine without it, is she?" Rowan said this all in one breathe.
"Rowan, I would rather not talk of my mother." Julia said, partially reverting to her quiet self.
By then, Watson and Mycroft had caught up with the others. Rowan went inside to tell her father of the tenants who had just arrived.
Her father walked out. He was a rather short man, he was bald, and he had a long stride for his height. He greeted then with a gruff tone, and during their conversation, made frequent jokes that no one, except for himself, understood.
They were immediately led up to their room. It was a suite with four bedrooms. Holmes had his, Mycroft his, Watson and Mary were supposed to share one, but due of the circumstances, Watson had it to himself, and Julia had the smaller room; with a bay window that over looked a river. Almost like her room at Baker Street, but there she looks over a river of people; not clear, warm water and polished smooth river stones.