A/N: Two for the price of one, boys and girls! Actually, it was supposed to only be about Violet, but the Rosa bit grew a little larger than I'd expected. Still, I'd feel self-indulgent splitting it into two chapters, so you folks just get this one larger one to read. Enjoy.

Rosa Allen was, in John's opinion, the perfect receptionist. With her impressive dreadlocks and no-nonsense demeanor, she could make even the most hysterical hypochondriac sit quietly in the waiting room. Her filing system was the most organized thing John had ever seen, even in the army. And most importantly, she got on quite well with Sherlock.

When John had first (not-so-casually) mentioned his boyfriend to Rosa, she hadn't batted an eyelash. When she first met him, she seemed slightly taken aback, but that was only because he was tugging on John's sleeve, and trying to persuade him to go see some 'intriguingly delightful' corpses. Sherlock's words, not John's.

Despite that atypical introduction, they took an immediate liking to one another. When Sherlock dropped by the clinic to drag John off to god only knew where, he always brought her a medium latte with a shot of hazelnut. In return, she had begun emailing him John's schedules so he could show up right at the ends of shifts to drag his boyfriend away. When John's appointments occasionally ran long, he would dash out of his office afterwards, expecting to find a bored Sherlock destroying something. But after a while, more often than not he would find Sherlock and Rosa having a perfectly sedate conversation about the viscosity of various brands of liquid paper.

It was when he found them making plans to go a violin concert together that he knew Rosa was going to be a permanent fixture in their lives. It was closing time, and he and Sarah stood by the door, waiting for either of them to acknowledge their presence so they could go their separate ways. But the two music enthusiasts pointedly ignored the doctors, busy discussing the relative merits of Vivaldi and Handel as they were.

"You know, I think that's the first person I've ever actually seen him acknowledge, besides you." Sarah said, not bothering to lower her voice. "Are you worried?"

John laughed. "Not at all. Look, they've pulled up my schedule to make sure I'm free to suffer through hours of music on whichever night they pick."

"I highly doubt you'll suffer, John." said Sherlock, his back to them. "Gregor Finch is supposedly a virtuoso. Even your untrained ears will be able to appreciate his genius, I think."

"Well, why do we need to bother going out?" John asked, rolling his eyes at Sarah. "Why doesn't Rosa just come over to ours, and you can give her a violin concerto of her very own? It seems a waste that I'm the only one who hears your music."

John expected someone to respond with a cutting remark, but no one did. Sherlock was staring at Rosa intensely, and she seemed a bit taken aback.

"Would you be interested?"

"Yes, of course!" she said eagerly.

"Well, that's settled." Sarah said quickly. "John, if you're going to be waiting for Rosa anyways, you can close out the records for the night. I'm going home to my nice warm bed."

John caught her arm just before she slipped out the door. "You are an evil, evil woman." he whispered.

She grinned. "Take it as payback for you dumping me."

"That was two years ago!"

"I'm very patient." she said as she pulled her arm away and slipped out the door. "See you tomorrow."

He looked back to Rosa and Sherlock. They were discussing whether or not the three of them should go out for Chinese before they retired to 221B. Resigned to having his input completely ignored, John sat down in one of the visitor's chairs, and opened his briefcase. Rosa still had to finish up the day's paperwork, and that would take a half-hour at least, if he was any judge. Probably longer, with Sherlock being his distracting self. Maybe now John could finally catch up on his reading. He pulled out his new Stephen Fry mystery, and settled in to wait.

From then on, Wednesday nights became music night. John would close down the clinic, and then he and Rosa would cab it back to Baker Street. Sherlock usually had food waiting for them, even if it was just takeaway. Sometimes they would eat, sometimes they would chat, and sometimes they would all watch some crap telly. But the night always ended with Sherlock pulling out his violin, and performing for his friends.

It was a comfortable routine, and one of the few John had been able to instill in their lives. Having a friend was good for Sherlock, and it was nice to be on good terms with the people he worked with. John began to spend more time with her, finding that they shared a dark sense of humour and a secret passion for writing. He missed having friends that he saw all the time, but the army had distanced him so far from his former life that he had lost touch with them. Rosa fit into his life, and filled a hole he hadn't even realized was there. He suspected Sherlock felt the same, although he wouldn't (couldn't?) put it into words.

But enough about Rosa. A few years into their continued acquaintance, Rosa decided that she didn't want to wait for a man (well, an unattached, straight man) to walk into her life before she started a family. And it wasn't like they were just going to stop seeing her, (in fact, they were probably going to be recruited as the most unlikely babysitters of all time), but John was going to miss her presence at his workplace.

So it was with some trepidation that John headed to work on the first day of her maternity leave. He didn't know anything about the new receptionist besides her name, Violet Sato. He supposed he could have asked Sherlock, but if the new girl was wanted for murder in Croatia or something, John didn't really want to know.

John's phone buzzed in his pocket.

Sarah would not hire anyone incompetent. SH

John smiled at Sherlock's awkward reassurance. Sherlock was probably glad that Rosa was off work, so he could bother her when John was busy. But he knew John would prefer to have their friend with him, and so he tried.

Thanks, 'Lock. I'm sure everything will be fine.

Almost sure, anyways. It was just- Rosa had been working at the clinic for years, since before John was hired. And the clinic was one of the few spots of normality in his mad life. He didn't really want to have to get used to the change.

No, he was being silly. He would make a point to be friendly with this Miss Sato, if only to prove to himself that he could.

John stowed his phone in his pocket, and entered the clinic. A tiny Asian woman in her mid-to-late twenties was sitting in the desk that he would always think of a Rosa's, typing very quickly on her computer. John approached her desk, and after a brief pause, she tore her eyes away from the computer screen.

"D'you have an appointment?" she asked in a rather clipped tone.

"Er, no. Actually, I'm-"

"We do accept walk-ins, sir. Are you a client of this practice?"

"Not as such. See, I'm-"

"We can still see to you, sir, but I'm afraid you'll have to fill out some paperwork first."

She handed him a sheaf of papers, and he wordlessly took them.

"Morning, John."

Sarah walked into the reception area, folding up her coat as she walked. "Making friends with Miss Sato?"

John held up the papers, trying to keep from laughing. "Apparently I've got some paperwork to do, Sarah." he said, deadpan. "Because I'm not a regular client, you see."

Sarah smothered her laugh in her hand. "Oh dear, that could be a problem. Miss Sato, I don't believe you two have been introduced. This is my colleague, Doctor John Watson."

The diminutive woman turned a bright red. "I… er… sorry, Doctor."

"It's fine." John said, grinning. "You're just a bit too efficient, is all. Not a bad problem, as problems go."

She smiled tentatively. "I'm sorry, Doctor Watson. I tend to get a bit ahead of myself."

"Not a problem." he said. "Now, what've you got lined up for me today?"

oOo

John glanced over his schedule, and realized that his next patient wasn't due to come in for and other twenty minutes. Just enough time to catch a quick cuppa with Rosa, and- wait.

Well, now was a good a time as any to make the acquaintance of the woman he'd have to work with for the next few months. He left his office, and stood leaning against her desk until she noticed him.

"Oh, hello, Doctor Watson." Violet said, upon looking up from her screen. "Is everything all right?"

"Just wonderful. Are you figuring everything out all right? I know Rosa ran a tight ship, but if there's anything you need help with…"

"Oh, no. I'm fine." Violet said. She looked around the waiting room, which was empty but for a single old man snoring softly in the corner. (Robert Page, a regular. Kidney cancer.) "Actually, there hasn't been much for me to do at all. I've been stuck watching the news, most of the morning."

She gestured up to the decrepit television set that was up on a shelf by the door. Muted and closed captioned, John didn't think he'd ever seen it turned off.

A parade of brightly dressed people strode across the screen. He'd forgotten the pride parade was today. Harry went in for that sort of thing, though, so she'd probably be there, representing the Watsons. He was a bit too old now to start with the whole flamboyance bit, but maybe he ought to go out on his lunch, just to support. It gets better, and all that.

He watched Violet watching the TV, and she made a face. "My mum told me that was happening today." she said. "Do they have to shove it in our faces like that?"

"I'm sorry?" John asked. Ah, well. So much for making friends with the receptionist.

"I dunno. I just… yeah, they can be gay, but do they have to do it in public? It's kind of gross."

John opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Look, send me in Mr. Page." he said. "I can see him right now, and he'll be wanting to get home to his wife."

"You got it, Doctor!" Violet said brightly, and didn't it always surprise him how such nice people can say such terrible things?

oOo

Sherlock. Have a case for you.

"Morning, Rob. How are you this morning?"

You are at the clinic. What sort of case. SH

"Today'll be a good day, I think, doc. My hip wa'nt too bad this morn'n."

Need you to bring me lunch.

"Well, I'll just refill your prescription, and we'll see you again next Saturday?"

why. SH

oh I see. SH

"Cheers, doc."

your break is at twelve, I'll fetch you then. SH

oOo

Ten to twelve was two hours at most, and yet it had felt to John as if it had been several lifetimes. He hadn't seen an hour stretch so far since the last time he was kidnapped. But he had finally shooed the last hypochondriac out of his office, and he felt his hour-long lunch was very well earned.

Pushing his way out into reception was much more difficult than it had been several hours ago. Snotty children ran amok underfoot, while harried mothers chased after them. John neatly sidestepped a particularly infectious-looking five year old, and stepped over a discomfited teenager's legs to reach Ros- to reach Violet's desk.

Sherlock was already there, of course. Violet was smiling at him, wide-eyed and obviously flirtatious. Sherlock was smiling back, although John recognized this as his false smile, used most often to get things out of people who did not know him.

Sherlock noticed John approaching first, of course, and he grinned at him. A real grin, this time.

"Sherlock, you've got confetti in your hair." John said.

"I do? Well, there was quite a to-do in the street, I'm surprised confetti is the only thing I've got."

Sherlock bent down, and John picked the brightly-coloured particles off his head.

"I suppose you've met Sherlock, then?" John said to Violet.

"Yes, I suppose I have." she said. "You're friends, I take it?"

Sherlock straightened up. "Oh, aren't you clever. Obviously we're not just friends, you would know that if you simply observed."

Violet looked confused, and John took pity on her. He found himself taking pity on people quite a lot, when they first met Sherlock. And sometimes for quite a long time after that.

"He's my partner." He said, to Violet.

"Oh, don't be so coy, John." Sherlock said. "I'm his husband, if you must know."

"Husband?" she said, in a rather high pitched voice.

"Yes, and if you'd taken the time to read his file, or do your job, you would know that already. I'm disappointed in Sarah's hiring skills, and I rescind my earlier statement about her not hiring anyone incompetent."

"I'll see you in an hour, then, Violet?" John said.

"I… uh… yeah." she said. Sherlock, apparently taking this for a dismissal, grabbed John's hand, and half dragged, half led him out of the clinic.

"When did we get married, then?" John asked him in the elevator.

"We didn't. That was for dramatic effect."

"Well, good. I'm glad you didn't get us hitched when my back was turned, I'd be quite put out."

"Does that seem like something I'm likely to do?"

John didn't dignify that with a response.

oOo

An hour later, on the dot, John slipped back into the clinic. The morning rush had been and gone, for which he was thankful. The chair in the corner was occupied by a teenage couple, the girl's swollen ankle propped on the boy's knee, but other than that the reception was deserted.

"I'm back." John said. Violet looked up from her computer, and cringed.

"Doctor." she said.

"I guess the rush is gone, eh?"

"Yeah." she said. Her eyes flitted around the room, as if searching for something to stare at, anything that wasn't the man before her.

"Look." John began, having thought out what he was going to say on the elevator ride up. "I don't want this to be awkward. We're going to have to work with each other for the next few months."

She laughed softly. "I really put my foot in it, didn't I."

He smiled. "Yeah, you did."

"I- I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You weren't thinking." he said kindly. "But you also need to realize that you don't want to be going around saying things like that. Not everyone is as sure of themselves as I am, and you could really hurt someone."

She nodded. "I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"And you also need to realize that not everyone is as easygoing as I am. God only knows what Sherlock would have said, if it had been him you were talking to."

She looked up, startled. "Is he- did I- God, I'm an idiot."

"Cheer up." John said. "Everyone's got something to learn. What say we go out for drinks, after work?"

She nodded. "I'd like that. And I really am sorry."

"Later, then. I'm off to earn my wage."

John headed off to the kitchen, to make himself a cuppa before dealing with the injured teens. Sarah was already there, sipping at a cup of Earl Grey.

"So?" she asked him. "What did I tell you? Is Sato good, or is she good?"

John stared at her for a minute, and then burst out laughing.