A/N So this is set about 2 years after Mary's death. TFP never happened. Not my greatest work, but I liked the warm fuzziness I felt while writing it. Enjoy<3
John hadn't slept very well, his nerves swirling in his mind, keeping him awake. Now he stood in front of the mirror, fussing with the old uniform he wore. Someone knocked at the door and he reached for the handle. Harry stepped in, covering her mouth with her hand and gasping. John felt his cheeks warm under her gaze and he frowned at his reflection, adjusting the jacket and picking at an imaginary hair.
"You look amazing, John." She spun him to face her and straightened his tie.
"I look like dad." There was an awkward silence as his words registered with his sister. His old army uniform pulled memories of his father from his memory. He saw a softness reach Harry's eyes as she pulled him in for a hug.
"You may look like him, but you are ten times the man he could have ever dreamed of being. And he never looked as happy as you do." She was crying and John tightened his grip on her. They never got along, but in recent years they had gotten closer. She stepped back and wiped her eyes, taking in the image of her brother.
"Do you think they will be there?" He knew the answer, but couldn't stop the hope from creeping into his voice. He wanted his father to see how happy he was, to meet the person who gave him so much joy. He wanted him to meet his granddaughter, to have a relationship with Rosie.
"You sent him an invite?" John nodded, "well then, they just might come." Her smile told John that she believed those words about as much as John did. He turned back to the mirror and fussed some more. A small movement from the bathroom door registered in the corner of his vision and he turned to see Rosie standing there. He grinned, she looked so perfect. She was wearing a white dress, her pale hair pinned back with lavender bows. She was carrying a white basket in her hands, filled with lavender petals.
"Hello my beautiful girl." He crouched down and took her into his arms, holding her close as he lifted her into his arms. He placed a kiss on her cheek and fought the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Rosie was already two years old and looked so much like Mary.
"Where is Uncle Lock?" She always called Sherlock that.
"He is at home."
"Why?" She was always asking questions, just like Sherlock.
"Because it is tradition, we already talked about this dear." He left the bathroom, Rosie in his arms.
"I miss him." His heart swelled. Rosie loved Sherlock so much, and he knew Sherlock loved her just the same.
"I miss him to love, but we will see him soon."
"Why are you wearing that Daddy?" He set her down at the kitchen table and absent mindedly grabbed a banana, peeling the fruit and handing it to his daughter.
"Because I need to look good today, Daddy is getting married."
"I'm the flower girl!" He laughed, she was so happy about her position in the wedding.
"Yes you are, and you will be the best flower girl ever." He pinched her nose and giggled along with her. He heard a knock on the door and went to answer it, forgetting for a brief moment that he was wearing his uniform. It was Greg, dressed in a sharp tuxedo with Lavender accents. He looked good, and John was sure that Mycroft was pleased.
"Well, hello John. Don't you look spiffy today? Whatever is the occasion?" He winked and he walked in, a huge grin on his face. John blushed and laughed.
