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Entry tags:
Fic: Cracks in the In-Between Places (21/21) NOW COMPLETE!
Title: Cracks in the In-Between Places
Author:
swissmarg
Beta readers:
ruth0007, billiethepoet
Rating: PG-13
Relationship: John/Sherlock
Word count: ca. 94,000 total, this chapter 2,329 words
Summary: AU set in the universe ofnox_candida's Getting Better. John and Sherlock work together to flush out Mary's killers, and Tristram has to come to terms with what his father's new friend means for him. No series 3 spoilers (or series 1 or 2, for that matter).
See chapter one for the complete header with warnings, acknowledgments, disclaimers, and notes.
Chapter 21 on AO3
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristram is huddled on the couch under Mrs Hudson's afghan, which somehow has found its way to the safe house along with the rest of his things from the hospital. Doctor Watson has gone to the kitchen to help Emily with breakfast. It must be morning. It's impossible to tell from the windows, as they are all shuttered and have heavy curtains drawn over them. It's the best feature of the house, in Tristram's opinion.
Tristram's eyes are swollen and dry and his throat hurts. He doesn't know where his father is, and that hurts even more. Doctor Watson sat on the couch with Tristram all night. Emily didn't want to be alone upstairs, so she brought down a pillow and a blanket and slept on the carpet. Doctor Watson held Tristram for long stretches, until Tristram would have to crawl away to curl up in the opposite corner and cry a little, quietly. Tristram is still resentful of the fact that Doctor Watson let the men with guns take Father away, but he doesn't have anyone else he can turn to for comfort.
After the men with the guns took Father away, Tristram and Emily had to sit in a little room at the airport while Doctor Watson talked to the police in another room. There was a lady who gave them sandwiches and juice, but no one would tell them anything, no matter how loud Emily yelled. Eventually, Doctor Watson came in, looking like he'd been yelling as loud as Emily. Doctor Watson said Father was fine, but he allowed that he hadn't actually seen him. The three of them were then allowed to get into one of Uncle Mycroft's cars and come here.
Doctor Watson also told Tristram that Father had a plan, that he wouldn't have done what he did if there were any danger in it. Tristram thinks he was trying to convince himself as much as Tristram, because he admitted he didn't actually know what that plan was. But it did succeed in Tristram and Emily and Doctor Watson being safe, and no one being injured.
Except that may not be true, because they still don't know what happened to Tristram's father. All they saw was him being hustled away by several men with very large guns. Doctor Watson said they were a special anti-terrorism unit of the police, and they were just being careful, but as soon as they realise that Father isn't a terrorist and wasn't trying to hurt anyone, they'll let him go.
That was hours and hours ago, though, and there's still been no word, not even from Uncle Mycroft, which is extremely worrying. Even though Father's been gone for longer than this before, this time is different. This time, Tristram actually saw him being taken away, and he saw the men who took him. He can't help but imagine all the terrible ways the scenario could have played out.
Eventually, Emily and Doctor Watson come back from the kitchen. Emily goes upstairs to get dressed and brush her teeth, and Doctor Watson makes Tristram get up to use the loo. When he's done, Doctor Watson has him take his shirt off so he can check the bandages, which he had to redo when they got back last night. Tristram tore several of them off during his tantrum at the airport, and re-opened a couple of the deeper cuts. Luckily, there were enough medical supplies in the house that they didn't have to go to the hospital again. The cast seems to have protected Tristram's hand well enough. Tristram is embarrassed now about losing control so thoroughly, but he couldn't help it. He still feels the echo of that panic and helpless fear when he thinks about it now, so he focuses on counting the tiles on the floor instead while Doctor Watson applies fresh gauze and tape. He gets to sixty-three by the time he's done.
Doctor Watson then takes Tristram into the kitchen and makes him drink a glass of milk. One of the on-duty bodyguards is there, drinking coffee and looking at a newspaper. The other bodyguard is probably on the upper floor, keeping an eye on the street. Tristram doesn't like being in the same room with either of them, even with Doctor Watson there, so he finishes his milk quickly and says he's full. He is, too.
When they go back to the living room. Emily's there, setting up a video game on the console under the big television screen.
"Come on, I'll show you how to play Mario Kart," she says enthusiastically.
Tristram crawls onto the couch and pulls Mrs Hudson's afghan around him.
"Give him a moment, he's just woken up," Doctor Watson says. He sounds tired himself. Tristram looks at him - really looks on him - for the first time this morning. He has huge dark smudges under his eyes, and blond-grey stubble all over his chin and cheeks. He looks old.
Emily plonks herself down on the carpet with the controller. "Just watch me. It's super easy."
Doctor Watson sits down next to Tristram and squeezes his foot through the afghan. "It's really not. She's scary good," he tells him in a confidential tone.
They sit and watch Emily pilot some kind of frog creature on a motorcycle around various race tracks littered with obstacles. Doctor Watson leaves his hand on Tristram's foot. After the third scenario, Tristram's actually becoming interested enough that he thinks he might want to give it a go. It does look pretty easy.
It's then that they hear voices in the kitchen - probably just the bodyguards talking, or someone coming in through the garage with a delivery - but then the door opens, and Father is standing there. He looks for all the world as if he's just come back from a quick visit to the British Museum, not at all like he's spent the past several hours in custody on suspicion of terrorism.
"Sherlock!" Doctor Watson is on his feet right away.
Tristram is even quicker. He is off the couch in an instant, hurling himself at his father. He squeezes him around the waist with his one good arm and burrows his face into his coat. He doesn't care that hugging isn't something they do, and maybe it won't be again tomorrow, but it is right now. He doesn't know why, but he needs to. He's going to explode if he doesn't. It's worse than after Friday Afternoon.
"Tristram, what's... Is he all right?" Father says. He sounds slightly bewildered. He's obviously talking to Doctor Watson, but Tristram feels Father's hand come up and cup the back of his head. Tristram squeezes harder.
Tristram hears Doctor Watson say, "You bloody idiot," in a rough voice, and then he's there, too, one arm around Father and one arm around Tristram. "You bloody, blithering idiot." His voice is muffled, and when Tristram tilts his head up a bit, he sees Doctor Watson has his face pressed up against Father's neck. Then something pushes against Tristram on the other side: it's Emily, joining in their group hug.
She looks up at Father with a curious expression. "Did our time machine work?" she asks.
"What? No," he says, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "I needed to trump their diversion. You see, someone was planning to -"
"Sherlock," Doctor Watson warns.
Father engages in a brief, silent exchange with Doctor Watson, and appears to lose. He sighs. "Yes, well, this person wanted an excuse to use his gun. I gave him that excuse, but on my terms. And since he didn't want to shoot me, he had no choice but to play along."
"We were worried about you," Emily tells him, as if this is an argument against his behaviour.Tristram is surprised. She was worried about Father too?
"That was hardly necessary," Father mutters as if he's uncomfortable with the attention. "There was no danger. As I said, they never wanted to shoot me."
Doctor Watson pulls back to look at Father. "You can't know that!" he says incredulously. "I don't care how brilliant you are, you cannot have known what they would have done."
Father extracts himself from the three of them and goes over to the couch. "And anyway," he says, flinging his coat open as he sits down, "it all worked out. Tonga is in custody, and they're currently running an analysis of samples taken from his hair at my request. They should show residue matching the ashes I found both at the flat across the street and an Llanbroc. That will place him at both scenes."
"What, he's a smoker so he's guilty?" Doctor Watson goes over to join him on the couch. Emily follows, curling up against her father.
Father smirks in that way that means he knows something that no one else knows. He flips the edge of his coat up to make room next to him on his empty side. Tristram takes it as an invitation and slides into the space. Father has both arms stretched out across the back of the couch, one behind Tristram and one behind Doctor Watson. He's not touching either of them, but that doesn't matter. Tristram feels wanted and safe and he's already forgiven his father for leaving him behind, for letting him think that he was being kidnapped and taken away to be tortured or worse.
"Did you know," Father begins expansively, now that he is assured of a captive and grateful audience, "that every strain of tobacco has a particular chemical signature that leaves identifiable traces in the hair of habitual smokers? Our suspect smokes hand-rolled cigarettes filled with pure nicotiana andamana, a type of tobacco that's not sold in England due to its extreme potency. He hasn't been here long, maybe six months, must have brought his own supply with him. It's quite unique."
"He's just another hired hand, though," Doctor Watson says.
Father looks as if he doesn't want to answer that, but finally says, "Yes."
"Then this isn't over yet," Doctor Watson presses.
Father looks like he doesn't want to answer that even more. "No," he admits.
Doctor Watson's jaw tightens. "Right. Right... And now?"
Father lifts his arms from behind them claps his hands loudly, rubbing them together. "We have holiday plans, John!" he exclaims, suddenly jolly.
Doctor Watson looks sceptical. "Are you sure that's... I mean, is that wise? Basil Rathbone and Henry Brown are known quantities now."
"Absolutely!" he says, full of enthusiasm. "Trust me, John. Switzerland is a neutral country. Safest place in the world. Nothing to worry about." Father pushes himself up off the couch and swirls around to face them. "Now I suggest you all go pack your things again. We can leave for the airport as soon as you're ready."
Doctor Watson looks unhappy. Not sad-unhappy. More like when you know you need to have an injection and you really don't want to but you know there's no way round it. That kind of unhappy. "Are you sure, Sherlock?" he asks from where he's still sitting on the couch.
Father's jolliness - which Tristram recognises for the sham it is - fades. He and Doctor Watson stare at each other for a few moments. Tristram knows they are saying something else underneath that gaze. "Yes," Father says finally, with a weight that is virtually palpable. "Are you sure?" He returns the question, but it's not a challenge the way Doctor Watson's question was. He sounds genuinely uncertain.
Doctor Watson seems to be struggling with something, but whether it's his own internal misgivings or something that Father's said, Tristram can't tell. Tristram's not sure why, and he doesn't even really know what the question means, but he desperately wants Doctor Watson to answer yes. And when he does, Tristram knows that something has changed right at that moment. "Yes," Doctor Watson says. "All right, yes. We're with you." He stands up.
Tristram would have thought that would make Father happy, but he mostly looks a bit stunned. Like he's pleased but a little scared of what that means. Like Tristram felt when he expressed a - purely hypothetical - curiosity about what it felt like to shoot a gun, and Father took him to the police firing range the next day and set ear protectors and goggles that were much too big onto his face and pressed a gun into his hands.
Father recovers quickly, though, and puts on his generically satisfied expression. "Good," he says briskly. "That's good. Why don't you go on, Tristram, I'll come and help you in a moment."
Now it's Tristram's turn to be surprised. Father hasn't helped him pack since he was quite small. But it's true that it takes him twice as long to do anything because of his hand, and Father probably just doesn't want to waste any time before they can leave.
Doctor Watson tells Emily to go with Tristram, which isn't at all subtle, so as soon as they are in the hallway, they turn right back around by unspoken agreement and crack the door to the living room open again so they can see.
Father and Doctor Watson are standing together, like they were in the Watsons' living room, with their arms loosely around each other. Father has his head bent down so he can rest his forehead against Doctor Watson's. "You can still back out," he says quietly. "No regrets, no reproaches."
Doctor Watson closes his eyes. He almost looks like he's in pain. "No. I have to see this through. For Mary. And for me." He tugs Father closer by his hips. "And for you."
Father closes his eyes too. He pushes his face down closer to Doctor Watson's. They're not quite kissing, but their noses are smushed together. "John..." Father breathes out, barely audible.
"God help me," Doctor Watson says, and kisses him.
&&&&&&
End note: Okay, don't kill me. I know this still leaves a lot open. I am working on a sequel. I'm not going to try and hazard a guess as to when it will be ready for posting, but I'm pretty far into it already. If you want a notification when it goes up, you can subscribe to the Tristram Holmes AU series I've set up on AO3, or watch this space. :)
In the meantime, thank you to absolutely everyone who left such great comments throughout. I love that there was so much of an emotional response to this, and I am especially moved by those personal experiences that people have felt safe enough to share here. This is obviously just a made-up story and I've never been through anything like any of the situations depicted here, so I was really humbled to hear that people are able to identify, even if only in a small way, with some of the characters and the things that I put them through. You, the readers, are such a huge part of this. Thank you for participating. And finally, thank you once again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nox_candida for creating the original characters and set-up and for giving the okay for me to share this what-if with the fandom.
Go to Story Index
Author:
Beta readers:
ruth0007, billiethepoetRating: PG-13
Relationship: John/Sherlock
Word count: ca. 94,000 total, this chapter 2,329 words
Summary: AU set in the universe of
nox_candida's Getting Better. John and Sherlock work together to flush out Mary's killers, and Tristram has to come to terms with what his father's new friend means for him. No series 3 spoilers (or series 1 or 2, for that matter).See chapter one for the complete header with warnings, acknowledgments, disclaimers, and notes.
Chapter 21 on AO3
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristram is huddled on the couch under Mrs Hudson's afghan, which somehow has found its way to the safe house along with the rest of his things from the hospital. Doctor Watson has gone to the kitchen to help Emily with breakfast. It must be morning. It's impossible to tell from the windows, as they are all shuttered and have heavy curtains drawn over them. It's the best feature of the house, in Tristram's opinion.
Tristram's eyes are swollen and dry and his throat hurts. He doesn't know where his father is, and that hurts even more. Doctor Watson sat on the couch with Tristram all night. Emily didn't want to be alone upstairs, so she brought down a pillow and a blanket and slept on the carpet. Doctor Watson held Tristram for long stretches, until Tristram would have to crawl away to curl up in the opposite corner and cry a little, quietly. Tristram is still resentful of the fact that Doctor Watson let the men with guns take Father away, but he doesn't have anyone else he can turn to for comfort.
After the men with the guns took Father away, Tristram and Emily had to sit in a little room at the airport while Doctor Watson talked to the police in another room. There was a lady who gave them sandwiches and juice, but no one would tell them anything, no matter how loud Emily yelled. Eventually, Doctor Watson came in, looking like he'd been yelling as loud as Emily. Doctor Watson said Father was fine, but he allowed that he hadn't actually seen him. The three of them were then allowed to get into one of Uncle Mycroft's cars and come here.
Doctor Watson also told Tristram that Father had a plan, that he wouldn't have done what he did if there were any danger in it. Tristram thinks he was trying to convince himself as much as Tristram, because he admitted he didn't actually know what that plan was. But it did succeed in Tristram and Emily and Doctor Watson being safe, and no one being injured.
Except that may not be true, because they still don't know what happened to Tristram's father. All they saw was him being hustled away by several men with very large guns. Doctor Watson said they were a special anti-terrorism unit of the police, and they were just being careful, but as soon as they realise that Father isn't a terrorist and wasn't trying to hurt anyone, they'll let him go.
That was hours and hours ago, though, and there's still been no word, not even from Uncle Mycroft, which is extremely worrying. Even though Father's been gone for longer than this before, this time is different. This time, Tristram actually saw him being taken away, and he saw the men who took him. He can't help but imagine all the terrible ways the scenario could have played out.
Eventually, Emily and Doctor Watson come back from the kitchen. Emily goes upstairs to get dressed and brush her teeth, and Doctor Watson makes Tristram get up to use the loo. When he's done, Doctor Watson has him take his shirt off so he can check the bandages, which he had to redo when they got back last night. Tristram tore several of them off during his tantrum at the airport, and re-opened a couple of the deeper cuts. Luckily, there were enough medical supplies in the house that they didn't have to go to the hospital again. The cast seems to have protected Tristram's hand well enough. Tristram is embarrassed now about losing control so thoroughly, but he couldn't help it. He still feels the echo of that panic and helpless fear when he thinks about it now, so he focuses on counting the tiles on the floor instead while Doctor Watson applies fresh gauze and tape. He gets to sixty-three by the time he's done.
Doctor Watson then takes Tristram into the kitchen and makes him drink a glass of milk. One of the on-duty bodyguards is there, drinking coffee and looking at a newspaper. The other bodyguard is probably on the upper floor, keeping an eye on the street. Tristram doesn't like being in the same room with either of them, even with Doctor Watson there, so he finishes his milk quickly and says he's full. He is, too.
When they go back to the living room. Emily's there, setting up a video game on the console under the big television screen.
"Come on, I'll show you how to play Mario Kart," she says enthusiastically.
Tristram crawls onto the couch and pulls Mrs Hudson's afghan around him.
"Give him a moment, he's just woken up," Doctor Watson says. He sounds tired himself. Tristram looks at him - really looks on him - for the first time this morning. He has huge dark smudges under his eyes, and blond-grey stubble all over his chin and cheeks. He looks old.
Emily plonks herself down on the carpet with the controller. "Just watch me. It's super easy."
Doctor Watson sits down next to Tristram and squeezes his foot through the afghan. "It's really not. She's scary good," he tells him in a confidential tone.
They sit and watch Emily pilot some kind of frog creature on a motorcycle around various race tracks littered with obstacles. Doctor Watson leaves his hand on Tristram's foot. After the third scenario, Tristram's actually becoming interested enough that he thinks he might want to give it a go. It does look pretty easy.
It's then that they hear voices in the kitchen - probably just the bodyguards talking, or someone coming in through the garage with a delivery - but then the door opens, and Father is standing there. He looks for all the world as if he's just come back from a quick visit to the British Museum, not at all like he's spent the past several hours in custody on suspicion of terrorism.
"Sherlock!" Doctor Watson is on his feet right away.
Tristram is even quicker. He is off the couch in an instant, hurling himself at his father. He squeezes him around the waist with his one good arm and burrows his face into his coat. He doesn't care that hugging isn't something they do, and maybe it won't be again tomorrow, but it is right now. He doesn't know why, but he needs to. He's going to explode if he doesn't. It's worse than after Friday Afternoon.
"Tristram, what's... Is he all right?" Father says. He sounds slightly bewildered. He's obviously talking to Doctor Watson, but Tristram feels Father's hand come up and cup the back of his head. Tristram squeezes harder.
Tristram hears Doctor Watson say, "You bloody idiot," in a rough voice, and then he's there, too, one arm around Father and one arm around Tristram. "You bloody, blithering idiot." His voice is muffled, and when Tristram tilts his head up a bit, he sees Doctor Watson has his face pressed up against Father's neck. Then something pushes against Tristram on the other side: it's Emily, joining in their group hug.
She looks up at Father with a curious expression. "Did our time machine work?" she asks.
"What? No," he says, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "I needed to trump their diversion. You see, someone was planning to -"
"Sherlock," Doctor Watson warns.
Father engages in a brief, silent exchange with Doctor Watson, and appears to lose. He sighs. "Yes, well, this person wanted an excuse to use his gun. I gave him that excuse, but on my terms. And since he didn't want to shoot me, he had no choice but to play along."
"We were worried about you," Emily tells him, as if this is an argument against his behaviour.Tristram is surprised. She was worried about Father too?
"That was hardly necessary," Father mutters as if he's uncomfortable with the attention. "There was no danger. As I said, they never wanted to shoot me."
Doctor Watson pulls back to look at Father. "You can't know that!" he says incredulously. "I don't care how brilliant you are, you cannot have known what they would have done."
Father extracts himself from the three of them and goes over to the couch. "And anyway," he says, flinging his coat open as he sits down, "it all worked out. Tonga is in custody, and they're currently running an analysis of samples taken from his hair at my request. They should show residue matching the ashes I found both at the flat across the street and an Llanbroc. That will place him at both scenes."
"What, he's a smoker so he's guilty?" Doctor Watson goes over to join him on the couch. Emily follows, curling up against her father.
Father smirks in that way that means he knows something that no one else knows. He flips the edge of his coat up to make room next to him on his empty side. Tristram takes it as an invitation and slides into the space. Father has both arms stretched out across the back of the couch, one behind Tristram and one behind Doctor Watson. He's not touching either of them, but that doesn't matter. Tristram feels wanted and safe and he's already forgiven his father for leaving him behind, for letting him think that he was being kidnapped and taken away to be tortured or worse.
"Did you know," Father begins expansively, now that he is assured of a captive and grateful audience, "that every strain of tobacco has a particular chemical signature that leaves identifiable traces in the hair of habitual smokers? Our suspect smokes hand-rolled cigarettes filled with pure nicotiana andamana, a type of tobacco that's not sold in England due to its extreme potency. He hasn't been here long, maybe six months, must have brought his own supply with him. It's quite unique."
"He's just another hired hand, though," Doctor Watson says.
Father looks as if he doesn't want to answer that, but finally says, "Yes."
"Then this isn't over yet," Doctor Watson presses.
Father looks like he doesn't want to answer that even more. "No," he admits.
Doctor Watson's jaw tightens. "Right. Right... And now?"
Father lifts his arms from behind them claps his hands loudly, rubbing them together. "We have holiday plans, John!" he exclaims, suddenly jolly.
Doctor Watson looks sceptical. "Are you sure that's... I mean, is that wise? Basil Rathbone and Henry Brown are known quantities now."
"Absolutely!" he says, full of enthusiasm. "Trust me, John. Switzerland is a neutral country. Safest place in the world. Nothing to worry about." Father pushes himself up off the couch and swirls around to face them. "Now I suggest you all go pack your things again. We can leave for the airport as soon as you're ready."
Doctor Watson looks unhappy. Not sad-unhappy. More like when you know you need to have an injection and you really don't want to but you know there's no way round it. That kind of unhappy. "Are you sure, Sherlock?" he asks from where he's still sitting on the couch.
Father's jolliness - which Tristram recognises for the sham it is - fades. He and Doctor Watson stare at each other for a few moments. Tristram knows they are saying something else underneath that gaze. "Yes," Father says finally, with a weight that is virtually palpable. "Are you sure?" He returns the question, but it's not a challenge the way Doctor Watson's question was. He sounds genuinely uncertain.
Doctor Watson seems to be struggling with something, but whether it's his own internal misgivings or something that Father's said, Tristram can't tell. Tristram's not sure why, and he doesn't even really know what the question means, but he desperately wants Doctor Watson to answer yes. And when he does, Tristram knows that something has changed right at that moment. "Yes," Doctor Watson says. "All right, yes. We're with you." He stands up.
Tristram would have thought that would make Father happy, but he mostly looks a bit stunned. Like he's pleased but a little scared of what that means. Like Tristram felt when he expressed a - purely hypothetical - curiosity about what it felt like to shoot a gun, and Father took him to the police firing range the next day and set ear protectors and goggles that were much too big onto his face and pressed a gun into his hands.
Father recovers quickly, though, and puts on his generically satisfied expression. "Good," he says briskly. "That's good. Why don't you go on, Tristram, I'll come and help you in a moment."
Now it's Tristram's turn to be surprised. Father hasn't helped him pack since he was quite small. But it's true that it takes him twice as long to do anything because of his hand, and Father probably just doesn't want to waste any time before they can leave.
Doctor Watson tells Emily to go with Tristram, which isn't at all subtle, so as soon as they are in the hallway, they turn right back around by unspoken agreement and crack the door to the living room open again so they can see.
Father and Doctor Watson are standing together, like they were in the Watsons' living room, with their arms loosely around each other. Father has his head bent down so he can rest his forehead against Doctor Watson's. "You can still back out," he says quietly. "No regrets, no reproaches."
Doctor Watson closes his eyes. He almost looks like he's in pain. "No. I have to see this through. For Mary. And for me." He tugs Father closer by his hips. "And for you."
Father closes his eyes too. He pushes his face down closer to Doctor Watson's. They're not quite kissing, but their noses are smushed together. "John..." Father breathes out, barely audible.
"God help me," Doctor Watson says, and kisses him.
&&&&&&
End note: Okay, don't kill me. I know this still leaves a lot open. I am working on a sequel. I'm not going to try and hazard a guess as to when it will be ready for posting, but I'm pretty far into it already. If you want a notification when it goes up, you can subscribe to the Tristram Holmes AU series I've set up on AO3, or watch this space. :)
In the meantime, thank you to absolutely everyone who left such great comments throughout. I love that there was so much of an emotional response to this, and I am especially moved by those personal experiences that people have felt safe enough to share here. This is obviously just a made-up story and I've never been through anything like any of the situations depicted here, so I was really humbled to hear that people are able to identify, even if only in a small way, with some of the characters and the things that I put them through. You, the readers, are such a huge part of this. Thank you for participating. And finally, thank you once again to
nox_candida for creating the original characters and set-up and for giving the okay for me to share this what-if with the fandom.Go to Story Index