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Entry tags:
Fic: The Cuckoo's Lullaby, 3/17
Title: The Cuckoo's Lullaby
Author:
swissmarg
Beta readers:ruth0007 , 
dioscureantwins , special thanks to ladyprydian for medical advice
Rating: R
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Other characters: Irene Adler, OCs
Word count: ca. 85K when complete
Summary: Sequel to 'Cracks in the In-Between Places'. A Swiss holiday seems to be the perfect way for the Holmeses and the Watsons to recover from their recent troubles and deepen their attachments to each other, but when Tristram's mother and the bogeyman both turn up, loyalties are put to the ultimate test.
See Chapter One for additional notes
Read Chapter Three on AO3
When Tristram wakes up, it is with a queasy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something is wrong. He doesn't open his eyes yet, though. He's been well served in the past by pretending to be asleep. He can hear breathing next to him. That will be Father. Apparently he came to bed at some point after all.
Someone else is in the room with them, though. Whoever it is isn't moving, not even really making any noise, but he can feel them. It's probably Doctor Watson or Emily, he tells himself. But why are they being so quiet, and why does he have a prickling sense of unease?
He cracks his eyes open, and then he knows what the problem is. The room is bathed in weak morning light. Someone has opened the curtains. And that someone - Emily - is standing in front of the window, looking out at the wintry landscape.
This strikes Tristram immediately and overwhelmingly as wrong. He doesn't even think about why. Reacting on instinct, he jumps out of bed and all but tackles her, pushing her away from the window and against the wall. He feels the sympathetic impact of her body thudding into the wall.
She cries out and shoves him away. "What are you doing?" she shouts. Tristram stumbles back and has to catch the curtain to stop himself from losing his balance.
"What's going on?" Tristram hears Doctor Watson, loud and urgent, but he can't see him because there are arms around him. Father's arms. Pulling him away.
"Close the curtain!" Father shouts.
Emily's started to cry.
"What the hell-" Doctor Watson says. He charges past them, wearing a t-shirt and grey track bottoms, toward where Emily is cringing up against the wall.
"I said close the curtain!" Father sounds angry now.
He's half dragging Tristram through the room. Tristram twists against him, but he can't put up much resistance with one arm, and anyway Father's hopelessly stronger. Tristram finds himself deposited in one of the armchairs. Father crouches down in front of him, his eyes bright and intense.
"What was it? What did you see?" Father demands as he runs his hands over Tristram's head and arms, apparently checking for injury.
Over by the window, Doctor Watson almost rips the curtain out of its track as he struggles to slide it closed again. Emily is still pressed against the wall, gulping down sobs.
"The curtain was -" Tristram tries to explain, but his throat closes off before he can finish the sentence. His heart is racing and it feels like he can hardly breathe. He swallows past the tightness and tries again. "The curtain was open!" There, he got it out this time, but it still feels like his throat won't open up far enough to let air in. He hasn't been poisoned again, has he?
But Father doesn't seem to be listening. "And outside?" he presses. "Was there someone there? Another light?"
Tristram shakes his head desperately. Why doesn't Father understand? There wasn't anything there, but the curtain was open! The curtain is not allowed to be open. Ever.
"Sherlock, he's having a panic attack," Tristram hears Doctor Watson say, but his voice sounds strange, as if he's speaking from far away. "Emily, come sit down here."
Doctor Watson leads Emily over to the bottom end of the couch bed. She sniffles and wipes her nose with her hand, but she's not actively crying anymore. "Did someone want to shoot me?" she asks, her voice trembling.
"No," Doctor Watson says firmly and kneels down next to Father in front of Tristram. He puts his hand on Tristram's knee and looks Tristram in the eye. "Tris, everything's fine," he says in a calm voice.
"Can't breathe," Tristram gasps.
"I know, come on, let's do it together, let's breathe together." Doctor Watson breathes in deeply through his nose, his whole upper body seeming to rise with it. Then he blows out all the air through his mouth in a long, slow exhale. "Sherlock, Emily, everyone together, come on," he says without losing eye contact with Tristram. He starts another long inhale through his nose.
Father joins in, his nostrils flaring and his eyebrows rising. Tristram feels something putting pressure on his good hand, and when he looks down, he sees Father's hand gripping his. Tristram grips back as hard as he can. Behind them, Emily takes a deep breath too, albeit shakily. Tristram finds himself inhaling along with them, although he can't keep going nearly as long.
"And out..." Doctor Watson says as soon as Tristram starts to exhale. Everyone else breathes out too. They repeat it a few more times until Tristram can keep up. On the last one, Emily starts to giggle. Tristram glances over at her and can't help losing it a bit too.
Doctor Watson finishes his exhale and looks at Tristram hopefully, patting his knee. "Better?"
Well, he can breathe better, but he knows he messed up. He shouldn't have pushed Emily. He hurt her.
"I'm sorry," he says in a small voice. He can't even look at her. Now she won't want to be his friend.
"Can you tell me now what you saw?" Father asks. He's still holding onto Tristram's hand, pressing it to get his attention.
Tristram shakes his head helplessly. His stomach feels like there's a knot in it. "Nothing, I just- The curtain was open." He doesn't know how else to explain it. It sounds stupid now. There might have been something there, though. Someone, somewhere, outside, looking in at them, looking for a way to hurt them.
"I don't think he saw anything, Sherlock," Doctor Watson says quietly. "It's more of what I was telling you last night."
What did Doctor Watson tell him? Is that what they were typing messages about on the computer? Is it the case they don't want Tristram and Emily to know about?
"There might have been something there," Father growls, looking away at the floor. He takes his hand away from Tristram's, stands up and goes over to the wall where the window is. Standing beside it, he lifts the edge of the curtain carefully to look out.
Doctor Watson stands up too. "What might have been there, hm?" he says to Father. It sounds like a challenge. His mouth is set in a thin line. "No one followed us here. Right? No one even knows we're here, other than Mycroft. He didn't-" His eyes get wide. "Oh no, he did not send some other team after us."
Father flicks the curtain back down. "Not that I know of," he says, but he snatches his phone up from the side table where it's charging and starts typing on it rapidly.
Doctor Watson pinches the skin between his eyebrows and puts his other hand on his hip.
"I didn't see anything," Tristram says, because that seems to be the crux of the problem. Maybe if he makes that clear, everyone will stop being upset.
Doctor Watson takes his hand away from his face and tries to smile at Tristram, but he looks tired. "It's fine, Tris," he says. "I know, you were just trying to protect Emily. You didn't want her to be hurt. You saw her standing in front of the open window and you remembered what happened at your flat."
Yes, exactly! Finally, someone understands. "I didn't mean to push her so hard, though." He looks at Emily, who is still sitting on the bed. "I'm sorry," he offers, even though he knows it's not enough.
"It's okay," Emily tells him, to Tristram's great surprise. "It didn't really hurt. Are you all right? You didn't hurt your hand again, did you?" She comes over to kneel on the floor next to him, leaning against his leg with casual ease. The skin around her nose and eyes is blotchy and red, but she looks calm again. Does this mean they're still friends? He pushed her into the wall, on purpose, and he didn't even have a good reason. Tristram's pretty sure if he did that to anyone else at school, he'd have made a mortal enemy and been well on his way to having to change schools again. And here she is asking him if he's all right!
Tristram shakes his head in answer to her question. He wiggles his fingers inside his cast. It hurts, but not because of what just happened. He pushed her with his left hand. His right hand wasn't involved at all.
"I just wanted to look outside," she tells him earnestly, then looks up at her father. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to open the curtain."
"It's all right, Em, no one's angry," Doctor Watson assures her. "And you didn't do anything wrong. Tris was just startled."
"I'm really sorry," Tristram tells her again.
"We can keep it closed from now on," she announces stoutly.
"I don't-" Doctor Watson looks frustrated and sits down on the coffee table next to them. He puts one hand on the back of Emily's neck, but he's mostly talking to Tristram. "I understand you wanting to be careful. I really do. And we can leave the curtain closed if it makes you that anxious. But we have to go out, right? I mean, we travelled halfway across the continent yesterday. We were in the airport, out on the street, there were lots of other people around, and nothing happened. There's nothing magic about a curtain over a window."
Doctor Watson's right, of course. A curtain won't stop a bullet, just like laws don't stop criminals and a lock doesn't stop Father. And if someone really wanted to shoot him - or Doctor Watson, or any of them - there would certainly be easier ways to do it. Knowing all of that doesn't stop Tristram from wanting that curtain closed. He knows it's illogical, but it doesn't change how he feels.
This must be why logic is superior to emotions, like he heard Father telling Inspector Lestrade once. People - criminals - he said, make mistakes and get caught because they fall prey to their emotions. 'God help us if you ever get bored with this end, then,' Inspector Lestrade answered, which made Tristram feel proud of Father because it meant the police really needed his help. But Father won't get bored with solving crimes, so Inspector Lestrade needn't worry.
If Tristram were logical, like Father - and Doctor Watson - he wouldn't have got scared and pushed Emily.
Doctor Watson, though, is still trying to explain why it doesn't matter whether they have the curtain open or closed. "Look," he says, "all the things that have happened - with Claire, and the pies, and everything else. Each of them only happened once, and we had no idea what the next one-" His face does something peculiar, like he's just heard a painfully bad pun. Then he says, "Okay, no, that's not where I want to go with this."
Father has drifted over to stand next to their group, apparently having finished sending his text. "What John is trying and failing miserably to say," he says, "is that whoever we have been dealing with loathes repetition as much as I do. They're not going to try to replicate something they've already done. I would rank the chances of another assassination attempt through a window as vanishingly small. However, you're forgetting the most important point: none of you are targets. Been there, done that. Tristram," Father says, looking at him, "you are safe. As are you, Emily." He nods at her before adding in a long-suffering manner, "Or as safe as one can be in a world populated by incompetent drivers, irresponsible corporations, and irresolute leaders. John is safe as long as he doesn't do anything stupid." Father smirks a bit and blinks down at his phone as it pings. "No," he says in a clipped voice and puts his phone away. "He says not."
It takes Tristram a moment, but he figures that must be Uncle Mycroft, telling Father he hasn't sent anyone to watch them this time. That's good to know, because it means if he does see anything out of the ordinary, he'll know for sure it's something he needs to tell Father. Not that, it seems, anyone is expecting anything to happen. Father just said they were all safe. Mister Tonga must have been the only real danger, and he's in police custody back in England now. Tristram does wonder a bit what the cut-off body parts had to do with it all, but they weren't threatening in and of themselves in the end. So maybe that's all right now. It's certainly a relief to hear.
"Right then," Doctor Watson says, slapping his palms against his thighs. "Now that that's settled, we're here on holiday and I for one mean to enjoy it. Why don't we go down to breakfast and see what this old town has to offer."
"Snowboarding!" Emily exclaims gleefully.
They settle on going to a toboggan run. Doctor Watson assures Tristram he can go, even with his hand in a cast. He just needs someone else to sit in the toboggan with him to work the brakes.
It's quite an adventure just getting there. They have to take a bus and then a cable car, which Emily's nervous about but Tristram isn't until they actually get inside. He didn't expect it would swing around quite so much. They are packed in with lots of other people and their backpacks and snowshoes and sledges and even a dog, but Doctor Watson makes sure that Tristram and Emily get spots by the window so they can see the view. Tristram's stomach drops a bit as they pick up speed and the ground recedes below them. The town quickly turns into toy houses, and the valley with the train track and road running down the middle turn into a model railway. Tristram's hardly had a chance to take it in before a fog comes down over them, enveloping the cable car and obscuring the view. Only it's not fog, Father says: it's clouds. They are actually going up into the clouds!
When they get to the top, it's still foggy - or cloudy. Most of the people they were on the cable car with set right off down the path leading away from the station and disappear within a matter of seconds. A few hang around adjusting their equipment and consulting the maps and charts displayed on the wall of the little shed housing the station. Father wanders over to look at the maps and charts too, while Tristram, Emily and Doctor Watson go out to the path.
There's a lot of snow. The area around the cable car station has been trampled down to a hard, thin layer of brown ice and sludge by all the people coming and going, but on either side of the path, undulating waves of white blanket the ground. It's like walking into a dreamland. Tristram's seen snow many times before, of course, but in the city it's broken up by cars and buildings and signposts. Here, it's just a vast stretch of white fading into the mist. Tristram leans down to scoop up a handful on his mitten. It's fluffy and gritty all at once. He tilts his hand to let it fall back to the ground in a crystalline shower.
Doctor Watson has also picked up a handful, which he tries to squeeze together into a ball.
"It's not very good packing snow," he says. Still, he manages to make a tennis-ball-sized globe, which he tosses underhanded at Emily. She squeals and dodges, but it still hits her on the back. He didn't throw it very hard, and it falls easily away, disintegrating into white dust. She scrambles off the path to make a ball herself.
Doctor Watson winces to see her kneel in the snow in her jeans. "Didn't think to pack snow trousers. I don't think you even own a pair, do you, Em?"
She stands up, grinning, and flings a handful of snow toward him. She wasn't able to form it into a proper ball, and it falls apart once it leaves her hand, landing far short of him in little clumps and flakes.
"What for?" she shouts happily.
"To keep you from ending up dripping before we're even there," her father says. He sounds like he thinks it's funny though. He bends over again and makes another snowball. Emily runs further into the field of snow, laughing, to get away. Instead of throwing the snowball after her, though, Doctor Watson hands it to Tristram.
"Go get your dad," he whispers, nodding toward Father. He's still looking at the map, but he's alone now, everyone else having apparently decided on their route.
Tristram nods eagerly and carefully balances the snowball on his left mitten as he sidles over until he's close enough that he feels he has a fair chance of hitting him. He's never tried to throw with his non-dominant hand before. It feels rather awkward, but he lets fly at the broad target of the back of his father's black coat. The snowball has barely left his hand before he realises it's gone too high. He sees what's going to happen, and tries to shout out a warning: "Father, duck!" But at the sound of his name, rather than ducking, Father turns around just in time to be hit square in the face with Tristram's snowball.
Tristram holds his breath. Father shakes his head, spraying snow everywhere, including back onto Tristram, and blusters and huffs to get it out of his nose. Tristram doesn't know whether to be dismayed or laugh at the sight. It's actually pretty funny, even if it was an accident. Doctor Watson seems to think so too. Behind him, Tristram can hear him whoop and cackle.
Father blinks his eyes open. Snow is still clinging to his eyelashes. He narrows his eyes at Tristram.
"Did you do that?" He doesn't sound angry. In fact, Tristram thinks he detects a smile in his eyes. He breathes out.
"He told me to," he deflects, pointing at Doctor Watson.
Doctor Watson grins. He already has another snowball in his hand.
"John..." Father walks over to where the deeper snow starts, not letting Doctor Watson out of his sight as he gathers up snow.
Doctor Watson hefts his snowball. "I'm armed and not afraid to shoot."
"John, look behind you," Father says as he packs and shapes the snow between his gloves. He nods in that direction, still keeping his eyes fixed on Doctor Watson's.
Behind Doctor Watson, Emily is sneaking up with a nice, fat snowball cradled in both hands and a huge, gleeful expression on her face. She shakes her head desperately at Father, trying to make him stop talking.
But Doctor Watson doesn't seem to believe him. He grins and shakes his head. "You're going to have to do better than that."
Tristram is beside himself with delight. One of them is going to get him. He decides to side with Father. "Doctor Watson, really, he's telling the truth! Look!" he shouts and points at Emily.
She makes an exaggerated shushing face as she keeps advancing.
Doctor Watson still thinks it's a trick. "Oh-ho," he laughs, "double-teaming me, you think that's-"
Emily lifts her snowball over her head and flings it at her father with both hands. It falls apart like her first one did, but she's close enough that the larger portion hits him anyway, landing mostly on the back of his neck and falling down inside his collar.
He yelps and twists around, and just as he does, Father yells, "Get down, John!"
Doctor Watson reacts even before Tristram has processed the order, crouching on the spot, and Father's snowball flies right through the space he was just standing in and hits Emily square in the chest with an audible thunk.
Her eyes widen just for a split second in surprise before she screeches in delight and runs away into the snowy field again.
"All right, now you both asked for it," Doctor Watson grunts, but it's clear he means it in good fun. He scrapes together what snow he can from the remnants on the path around him, flicks it sharply in Father's direction, and scrambles after Emily without waiting to see where it lands. Father sidesteps the shot easily.
He picks up some more snow and passes the resulting snowball to Tristram. "You're with me," he says with a wink and strides to the edge of the field. That statement makes Tristram feel almost like he's going to burst with pride. He is with his father. Always, in everything. He scrambles after him.
A short ways away, Doctor Watson and Emily are huddled together, apparently conferring. Father bends over, the edges of his long coat dragging, and starts making snowballs, which he lays on the path next to him. "I want you to hand these to me," he tells Tristram.
Tristram crouches down next to him. He tries to make a snowball with his one usable hand, but the best he can do is a misshapen lump about the size of a walnut. Beside him, Father works quickly and soon there are about a dozen snowballs piled up. Father stands up with one of the snowballs and lobs it at Doctor Watson and Emily, who look like they are making their own stockpile. Emily shrieks and covers her head with her arms, but Doctor Watson calmly watches Father's snowball sail past and land somewhere behind them.
"You call that aim, Holmes?" Doctor Watson calls to him.
"A warning shot!" Father calls back. He gestures for Tristram to hand him another snowball. Tristram does.
The next one comes much closer, close enough that Doctor Watson has to duck, but when he comes up again, it's to send a snowball at Tristram and Father with uncanny accuracy. It glances off Father's arm, splattering Tristram, and after that there's lots of ducking and dodging and shouting and breathless laughter, with Tristram handing snowballs up to Father as fast as he can and Emily and Doctor Watson both pelting them with everything they've got. Tristram's nose is running, his feet are freezing, his mitten has soaked through, his head is sweaty and itchy under his hat, and he somehow got snow in his ear, but he can't remember ever having so much fun. Tristram has no idea who's winning, but it doesn't matter one bit. Father is glorious, standing tall and fearless next to him, never giving an inch, batting at any snowballs that come too close.
When they run out of ammunition, Father leaps onto the snowy field - in his street shoes, no less - and barrels across it, scooping up snow as he goes. Emily screams and runs in one direction, while Doctor Watson goes the other way. Father throws as he runs, twisting his body to put all his weight behind it, and even as far away as they are, Tristram hears the thud of impact when he hits Doctor Watson's leg. Father must have overbalanced or slipped in his inappropriate footwear, though, as he's the one who goes down. Doctor Watson doubles back and tackles him, trying to hold him down as he heaps snow onto him.
Emily has made it over to Tristram by now, panting and giggling. She has one last snowball hidden behind her back, which she tosses lazily onto Tristram where he's crouching. It lands square on his head, but he has a hat on and it doesn't hurt. Anyway, she didn't do it to be mean. It was more like a pat on the back, a way of including him. He closes his eyes as the snow flutters down around his ears, then stands up, grinning from ear to ear.
"My dad's clobbering your dad," Emily announces proudly.
Tristram looks at them. Doctor Watson has Father pinned and has just smashed a handful of snow into his hair. "Yeah, he is," Tristram agrees happily. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. They're here together, he and Emily and Father and Doctor Watson, somewhere in the clouds in the middle of a foreign country, cold and wet and having absolutely the most brilliant time of their lives. He's having so much fun watching them he doesn't realise at first that someone else is standing next to him, until the person speaks.
It's an older woman in a blue ski jacket with the hood pulled tight around her face. Her skin is deeply tanned and lined and she is looking at Tristram and Emily with some concern. A man of similar age in a matching jacket is standing next to her, but he has his hood down, white stubble on his chin, and a green knitted hat on his head. He is frowning at Father and Doctor Watson. Both of the strangers are holding two long metal walking sticks with sharp points on the ends.
"Sorry?" Tristram says, polite yet guarded, as he didn't understand what she said. It probably wasn't English anyway.
When she speaks again, though, she does use English, with only a very light accent. "Are you with them?" she says. Obviously she means Father and Doctor Watson
"Yeah, those are our dads," Emily says, beaming.
"Is everything all right?" she asks.
"They're just having a snowball fight," Tristram tells her. Although it's devolved into some kind of wrestling match at this point.
Father and Doctor Watson seem to have noticed that Tristram and Emily have company, as they pull each other up and start tromping back. They are both laughing. Doctor Watson tries to brush the snow off Father as they walk, but it doesn't do much good. His black coat is virtually white and his hair is full of crystals. Both of their faces are red and wet, and they look both extremely pleased with themselves and slightly sheepish.
"Can we help you?" Doctor Watson asks as soon as they're within speaking distance.
"No, no, we thought perhaps there was a problem," the woman answers. She is smiling now. "We saw the two children alone, and you were..." She glances at the spot where the snow is all trampled and broken up.
"Yeah, we er..." Doctor Watson and Father look at each other and snigger so hard they have to look away again. "Sorry, got a bit carried away. All in good fun."
The man leans in to speak in a confidential whisper to their fathers: "Snow in here next time and you win." His accent is much heavier than the woman's. He pulls the waistband of his trousers away from his stomach and points down inside. He winks then makes a really funny face, pretending his pants are full of snow, and everyone laughs.
The toboggan run, it turns out, is pretty much like a roller coaster. There's a metal track built down the side of the mountain, zig-zagging back and forth, and two-seater sledges that sit on the track and run down it. There's no engine and no way to steer. The only control the rider has are the two handbrakes on either side of the sledge. The fog is thick enough that Tristram can't see the bottom of the track. Tristram is very excited to try it out, especially because Father is going to go with him.
Tristram sits in front, bracketed by his father's long legs, and the man in charge gives them instructions in uneven English while they buckle themselves in. Tristram doesn't catch most of it, and he doesn't think Father's paying attention either, but a few seconds later the light turns green and Father lets up on the brake. At first, they're barely moving, and Tristram thinks perhaps they should have listened to the instructions better because it looked like the people before them were going much faster. But then the track dips a bit and they go around a curve, and they pick up speed rapidly. So much so that Tristram tenses and pushes back against Father, because surely they are going to go hurtling off the track!
They don't, of course, but they do go fast enough that the cold wind takes Tristram's breath away. The sledge rattles and shakes, and Tristram is jerked hard against Father's leg whenever there's a change in direction. They go through a couple of tunnels, whipping in and out so fast Tristram's eyes don't even have time to adjust to the change in light levels. The best part is a long, long spiral that doesn't quite make Tristram dizzy but disorients him just a bit when they even out into a long, straight stretch at the bottom.
When they get to the end, there is a picture of a stick figure pulling the brakes on its sledge, so Father does and they slow almost to a standstill. Tristram is grinning and breathless. That was brilliant! His brain is only now starting to catch up. It feels like it's still halfway up the spiral.
Ahead of them, the track goes steeply uphill. Tristram wonders how they're going to get up that. They don't have nearly enough momentum. But then something hooks onto the bottom of the sledge and he feels them being pulled. The track is at such a sharp angle that Tristram is forced to lean back against Father's chest. It's good and solid, and Tristram fleeingly feels Father's chin against the top of his head. It's almost like an embrace.
Tristram turns his head to grin up at Father. "That was so cool!" he exclaims.
"It was rather fun," Father concurs, as if he's surprised by the fact. His voice is right in Tristram's ear. It tickles.
"Can we do it again?" Tristram asks hopefully.
Father smiles and puts his hand on Tristram's shoulder. He doesn't need to hold the brake anymore, so that's fine. "I'd like that," he says. Tristram would too. Very much.
Chapter note: There are several toboggan runs in Switzerland like the one described here. I didn't have a particular one in mind, but here is a video of one at Saas Fee, in the canton of Valais:
Go to chapter four
Author:
swissmargBeta readers:
ruth0007 , ladyprydian for medical adviceRating: R
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Other characters: Irene Adler, OCs
Word count: ca. 85K when complete
Summary: Sequel to 'Cracks in the In-Between Places'. A Swiss holiday seems to be the perfect way for the Holmeses and the Watsons to recover from their recent troubles and deepen their attachments to each other, but when Tristram's mother and the bogeyman both turn up, loyalties are put to the ultimate test.
See Chapter One for additional notes
Read Chapter Three on AO3
Chapter Three
When Tristram wakes up, it is with a queasy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something is wrong. He doesn't open his eyes yet, though. He's been well served in the past by pretending to be asleep. He can hear breathing next to him. That will be Father. Apparently he came to bed at some point after all.
Someone else is in the room with them, though. Whoever it is isn't moving, not even really making any noise, but he can feel them. It's probably Doctor Watson or Emily, he tells himself. But why are they being so quiet, and why does he have a prickling sense of unease?
He cracks his eyes open, and then he knows what the problem is. The room is bathed in weak morning light. Someone has opened the curtains. And that someone - Emily - is standing in front of the window, looking out at the wintry landscape.
This strikes Tristram immediately and overwhelmingly as wrong. He doesn't even think about why. Reacting on instinct, he jumps out of bed and all but tackles her, pushing her away from the window and against the wall. He feels the sympathetic impact of her body thudding into the wall.
She cries out and shoves him away. "What are you doing?" she shouts. Tristram stumbles back and has to catch the curtain to stop himself from losing his balance.
"What's going on?" Tristram hears Doctor Watson, loud and urgent, but he can't see him because there are arms around him. Father's arms. Pulling him away.
"Close the curtain!" Father shouts.
Emily's started to cry.
"What the hell-" Doctor Watson says. He charges past them, wearing a t-shirt and grey track bottoms, toward where Emily is cringing up against the wall.
"I said close the curtain!" Father sounds angry now.
He's half dragging Tristram through the room. Tristram twists against him, but he can't put up much resistance with one arm, and anyway Father's hopelessly stronger. Tristram finds himself deposited in one of the armchairs. Father crouches down in front of him, his eyes bright and intense.
"What was it? What did you see?" Father demands as he runs his hands over Tristram's head and arms, apparently checking for injury.
Over by the window, Doctor Watson almost rips the curtain out of its track as he struggles to slide it closed again. Emily is still pressed against the wall, gulping down sobs.
"The curtain was -" Tristram tries to explain, but his throat closes off before he can finish the sentence. His heart is racing and it feels like he can hardly breathe. He swallows past the tightness and tries again. "The curtain was open!" There, he got it out this time, but it still feels like his throat won't open up far enough to let air in. He hasn't been poisoned again, has he?
But Father doesn't seem to be listening. "And outside?" he presses. "Was there someone there? Another light?"
Tristram shakes his head desperately. Why doesn't Father understand? There wasn't anything there, but the curtain was open! The curtain is not allowed to be open. Ever.
"Sherlock, he's having a panic attack," Tristram hears Doctor Watson say, but his voice sounds strange, as if he's speaking from far away. "Emily, come sit down here."
Doctor Watson leads Emily over to the bottom end of the couch bed. She sniffles and wipes her nose with her hand, but she's not actively crying anymore. "Did someone want to shoot me?" she asks, her voice trembling.
"No," Doctor Watson says firmly and kneels down next to Father in front of Tristram. He puts his hand on Tristram's knee and looks Tristram in the eye. "Tris, everything's fine," he says in a calm voice.
"Can't breathe," Tristram gasps.
"I know, come on, let's do it together, let's breathe together." Doctor Watson breathes in deeply through his nose, his whole upper body seeming to rise with it. Then he blows out all the air through his mouth in a long, slow exhale. "Sherlock, Emily, everyone together, come on," he says without losing eye contact with Tristram. He starts another long inhale through his nose.
Father joins in, his nostrils flaring and his eyebrows rising. Tristram feels something putting pressure on his good hand, and when he looks down, he sees Father's hand gripping his. Tristram grips back as hard as he can. Behind them, Emily takes a deep breath too, albeit shakily. Tristram finds himself inhaling along with them, although he can't keep going nearly as long.
"And out..." Doctor Watson says as soon as Tristram starts to exhale. Everyone else breathes out too. They repeat it a few more times until Tristram can keep up. On the last one, Emily starts to giggle. Tristram glances over at her and can't help losing it a bit too.
Doctor Watson finishes his exhale and looks at Tristram hopefully, patting his knee. "Better?"
Well, he can breathe better, but he knows he messed up. He shouldn't have pushed Emily. He hurt her.
"I'm sorry," he says in a small voice. He can't even look at her. Now she won't want to be his friend.
"Can you tell me now what you saw?" Father asks. He's still holding onto Tristram's hand, pressing it to get his attention.
Tristram shakes his head helplessly. His stomach feels like there's a knot in it. "Nothing, I just- The curtain was open." He doesn't know how else to explain it. It sounds stupid now. There might have been something there, though. Someone, somewhere, outside, looking in at them, looking for a way to hurt them.
"I don't think he saw anything, Sherlock," Doctor Watson says quietly. "It's more of what I was telling you last night."
What did Doctor Watson tell him? Is that what they were typing messages about on the computer? Is it the case they don't want Tristram and Emily to know about?
"There might have been something there," Father growls, looking away at the floor. He takes his hand away from Tristram's, stands up and goes over to the wall where the window is. Standing beside it, he lifts the edge of the curtain carefully to look out.
Doctor Watson stands up too. "What might have been there, hm?" he says to Father. It sounds like a challenge. His mouth is set in a thin line. "No one followed us here. Right? No one even knows we're here, other than Mycroft. He didn't-" His eyes get wide. "Oh no, he did not send some other team after us."
Father flicks the curtain back down. "Not that I know of," he says, but he snatches his phone up from the side table where it's charging and starts typing on it rapidly.
Doctor Watson pinches the skin between his eyebrows and puts his other hand on his hip.
"I didn't see anything," Tristram says, because that seems to be the crux of the problem. Maybe if he makes that clear, everyone will stop being upset.
Doctor Watson takes his hand away from his face and tries to smile at Tristram, but he looks tired. "It's fine, Tris," he says. "I know, you were just trying to protect Emily. You didn't want her to be hurt. You saw her standing in front of the open window and you remembered what happened at your flat."
Yes, exactly! Finally, someone understands. "I didn't mean to push her so hard, though." He looks at Emily, who is still sitting on the bed. "I'm sorry," he offers, even though he knows it's not enough.
"It's okay," Emily tells him, to Tristram's great surprise. "It didn't really hurt. Are you all right? You didn't hurt your hand again, did you?" She comes over to kneel on the floor next to him, leaning against his leg with casual ease. The skin around her nose and eyes is blotchy and red, but she looks calm again. Does this mean they're still friends? He pushed her into the wall, on purpose, and he didn't even have a good reason. Tristram's pretty sure if he did that to anyone else at school, he'd have made a mortal enemy and been well on his way to having to change schools again. And here she is asking him if he's all right!
Tristram shakes his head in answer to her question. He wiggles his fingers inside his cast. It hurts, but not because of what just happened. He pushed her with his left hand. His right hand wasn't involved at all.
"I just wanted to look outside," she tells him earnestly, then looks up at her father. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to open the curtain."
"It's all right, Em, no one's angry," Doctor Watson assures her. "And you didn't do anything wrong. Tris was just startled."
"I'm really sorry," Tristram tells her again.
"We can keep it closed from now on," she announces stoutly.
"I don't-" Doctor Watson looks frustrated and sits down on the coffee table next to them. He puts one hand on the back of Emily's neck, but he's mostly talking to Tristram. "I understand you wanting to be careful. I really do. And we can leave the curtain closed if it makes you that anxious. But we have to go out, right? I mean, we travelled halfway across the continent yesterday. We were in the airport, out on the street, there were lots of other people around, and nothing happened. There's nothing magic about a curtain over a window."
Doctor Watson's right, of course. A curtain won't stop a bullet, just like laws don't stop criminals and a lock doesn't stop Father. And if someone really wanted to shoot him - or Doctor Watson, or any of them - there would certainly be easier ways to do it. Knowing all of that doesn't stop Tristram from wanting that curtain closed. He knows it's illogical, but it doesn't change how he feels.
This must be why logic is superior to emotions, like he heard Father telling Inspector Lestrade once. People - criminals - he said, make mistakes and get caught because they fall prey to their emotions. 'God help us if you ever get bored with this end, then,' Inspector Lestrade answered, which made Tristram feel proud of Father because it meant the police really needed his help. But Father won't get bored with solving crimes, so Inspector Lestrade needn't worry.
If Tristram were logical, like Father - and Doctor Watson - he wouldn't have got scared and pushed Emily.
Doctor Watson, though, is still trying to explain why it doesn't matter whether they have the curtain open or closed. "Look," he says, "all the things that have happened - with Claire, and the pies, and everything else. Each of them only happened once, and we had no idea what the next one-" His face does something peculiar, like he's just heard a painfully bad pun. Then he says, "Okay, no, that's not where I want to go with this."
Father has drifted over to stand next to their group, apparently having finished sending his text. "What John is trying and failing miserably to say," he says, "is that whoever we have been dealing with loathes repetition as much as I do. They're not going to try to replicate something they've already done. I would rank the chances of another assassination attempt through a window as vanishingly small. However, you're forgetting the most important point: none of you are targets. Been there, done that. Tristram," Father says, looking at him, "you are safe. As are you, Emily." He nods at her before adding in a long-suffering manner, "Or as safe as one can be in a world populated by incompetent drivers, irresponsible corporations, and irresolute leaders. John is safe as long as he doesn't do anything stupid." Father smirks a bit and blinks down at his phone as it pings. "No," he says in a clipped voice and puts his phone away. "He says not."
It takes Tristram a moment, but he figures that must be Uncle Mycroft, telling Father he hasn't sent anyone to watch them this time. That's good to know, because it means if he does see anything out of the ordinary, he'll know for sure it's something he needs to tell Father. Not that, it seems, anyone is expecting anything to happen. Father just said they were all safe. Mister Tonga must have been the only real danger, and he's in police custody back in England now. Tristram does wonder a bit what the cut-off body parts had to do with it all, but they weren't threatening in and of themselves in the end. So maybe that's all right now. It's certainly a relief to hear.
"Right then," Doctor Watson says, slapping his palms against his thighs. "Now that that's settled, we're here on holiday and I for one mean to enjoy it. Why don't we go down to breakfast and see what this old town has to offer."
"Snowboarding!" Emily exclaims gleefully.
&&&&&&
They settle on going to a toboggan run. Doctor Watson assures Tristram he can go, even with his hand in a cast. He just needs someone else to sit in the toboggan with him to work the brakes.
It's quite an adventure just getting there. They have to take a bus and then a cable car, which Emily's nervous about but Tristram isn't until they actually get inside. He didn't expect it would swing around quite so much. They are packed in with lots of other people and their backpacks and snowshoes and sledges and even a dog, but Doctor Watson makes sure that Tristram and Emily get spots by the window so they can see the view. Tristram's stomach drops a bit as they pick up speed and the ground recedes below them. The town quickly turns into toy houses, and the valley with the train track and road running down the middle turn into a model railway. Tristram's hardly had a chance to take it in before a fog comes down over them, enveloping the cable car and obscuring the view. Only it's not fog, Father says: it's clouds. They are actually going up into the clouds!
When they get to the top, it's still foggy - or cloudy. Most of the people they were on the cable car with set right off down the path leading away from the station and disappear within a matter of seconds. A few hang around adjusting their equipment and consulting the maps and charts displayed on the wall of the little shed housing the station. Father wanders over to look at the maps and charts too, while Tristram, Emily and Doctor Watson go out to the path.
There's a lot of snow. The area around the cable car station has been trampled down to a hard, thin layer of brown ice and sludge by all the people coming and going, but on either side of the path, undulating waves of white blanket the ground. It's like walking into a dreamland. Tristram's seen snow many times before, of course, but in the city it's broken up by cars and buildings and signposts. Here, it's just a vast stretch of white fading into the mist. Tristram leans down to scoop up a handful on his mitten. It's fluffy and gritty all at once. He tilts his hand to let it fall back to the ground in a crystalline shower.
Doctor Watson has also picked up a handful, which he tries to squeeze together into a ball.
"It's not very good packing snow," he says. Still, he manages to make a tennis-ball-sized globe, which he tosses underhanded at Emily. She squeals and dodges, but it still hits her on the back. He didn't throw it very hard, and it falls easily away, disintegrating into white dust. She scrambles off the path to make a ball herself.
Doctor Watson winces to see her kneel in the snow in her jeans. "Didn't think to pack snow trousers. I don't think you even own a pair, do you, Em?"
She stands up, grinning, and flings a handful of snow toward him. She wasn't able to form it into a proper ball, and it falls apart once it leaves her hand, landing far short of him in little clumps and flakes.
"What for?" she shouts happily.
"To keep you from ending up dripping before we're even there," her father says. He sounds like he thinks it's funny though. He bends over again and makes another snowball. Emily runs further into the field of snow, laughing, to get away. Instead of throwing the snowball after her, though, Doctor Watson hands it to Tristram.
"Go get your dad," he whispers, nodding toward Father. He's still looking at the map, but he's alone now, everyone else having apparently decided on their route.
Tristram nods eagerly and carefully balances the snowball on his left mitten as he sidles over until he's close enough that he feels he has a fair chance of hitting him. He's never tried to throw with his non-dominant hand before. It feels rather awkward, but he lets fly at the broad target of the back of his father's black coat. The snowball has barely left his hand before he realises it's gone too high. He sees what's going to happen, and tries to shout out a warning: "Father, duck!" But at the sound of his name, rather than ducking, Father turns around just in time to be hit square in the face with Tristram's snowball.
Tristram holds his breath. Father shakes his head, spraying snow everywhere, including back onto Tristram, and blusters and huffs to get it out of his nose. Tristram doesn't know whether to be dismayed or laugh at the sight. It's actually pretty funny, even if it was an accident. Doctor Watson seems to think so too. Behind him, Tristram can hear him whoop and cackle.
Father blinks his eyes open. Snow is still clinging to his eyelashes. He narrows his eyes at Tristram.
"Did you do that?" He doesn't sound angry. In fact, Tristram thinks he detects a smile in his eyes. He breathes out.
"He told me to," he deflects, pointing at Doctor Watson.
Doctor Watson grins. He already has another snowball in his hand.
"John..." Father walks over to where the deeper snow starts, not letting Doctor Watson out of his sight as he gathers up snow.
Doctor Watson hefts his snowball. "I'm armed and not afraid to shoot."
"John, look behind you," Father says as he packs and shapes the snow between his gloves. He nods in that direction, still keeping his eyes fixed on Doctor Watson's.
Behind Doctor Watson, Emily is sneaking up with a nice, fat snowball cradled in both hands and a huge, gleeful expression on her face. She shakes her head desperately at Father, trying to make him stop talking.
But Doctor Watson doesn't seem to believe him. He grins and shakes his head. "You're going to have to do better than that."
Tristram is beside himself with delight. One of them is going to get him. He decides to side with Father. "Doctor Watson, really, he's telling the truth! Look!" he shouts and points at Emily.
She makes an exaggerated shushing face as she keeps advancing.
Doctor Watson still thinks it's a trick. "Oh-ho," he laughs, "double-teaming me, you think that's-"
Emily lifts her snowball over her head and flings it at her father with both hands. It falls apart like her first one did, but she's close enough that the larger portion hits him anyway, landing mostly on the back of his neck and falling down inside his collar.
He yelps and twists around, and just as he does, Father yells, "Get down, John!"
Doctor Watson reacts even before Tristram has processed the order, crouching on the spot, and Father's snowball flies right through the space he was just standing in and hits Emily square in the chest with an audible thunk.
Her eyes widen just for a split second in surprise before she screeches in delight and runs away into the snowy field again.
"All right, now you both asked for it," Doctor Watson grunts, but it's clear he means it in good fun. He scrapes together what snow he can from the remnants on the path around him, flicks it sharply in Father's direction, and scrambles after Emily without waiting to see where it lands. Father sidesteps the shot easily.
He picks up some more snow and passes the resulting snowball to Tristram. "You're with me," he says with a wink and strides to the edge of the field. That statement makes Tristram feel almost like he's going to burst with pride. He is with his father. Always, in everything. He scrambles after him.
A short ways away, Doctor Watson and Emily are huddled together, apparently conferring. Father bends over, the edges of his long coat dragging, and starts making snowballs, which he lays on the path next to him. "I want you to hand these to me," he tells Tristram.
Tristram crouches down next to him. He tries to make a snowball with his one usable hand, but the best he can do is a misshapen lump about the size of a walnut. Beside him, Father works quickly and soon there are about a dozen snowballs piled up. Father stands up with one of the snowballs and lobs it at Doctor Watson and Emily, who look like they are making their own stockpile. Emily shrieks and covers her head with her arms, but Doctor Watson calmly watches Father's snowball sail past and land somewhere behind them.
"You call that aim, Holmes?" Doctor Watson calls to him.
"A warning shot!" Father calls back. He gestures for Tristram to hand him another snowball. Tristram does.
The next one comes much closer, close enough that Doctor Watson has to duck, but when he comes up again, it's to send a snowball at Tristram and Father with uncanny accuracy. It glances off Father's arm, splattering Tristram, and after that there's lots of ducking and dodging and shouting and breathless laughter, with Tristram handing snowballs up to Father as fast as he can and Emily and Doctor Watson both pelting them with everything they've got. Tristram's nose is running, his feet are freezing, his mitten has soaked through, his head is sweaty and itchy under his hat, and he somehow got snow in his ear, but he can't remember ever having so much fun. Tristram has no idea who's winning, but it doesn't matter one bit. Father is glorious, standing tall and fearless next to him, never giving an inch, batting at any snowballs that come too close.
When they run out of ammunition, Father leaps onto the snowy field - in his street shoes, no less - and barrels across it, scooping up snow as he goes. Emily screams and runs in one direction, while Doctor Watson goes the other way. Father throws as he runs, twisting his body to put all his weight behind it, and even as far away as they are, Tristram hears the thud of impact when he hits Doctor Watson's leg. Father must have overbalanced or slipped in his inappropriate footwear, though, as he's the one who goes down. Doctor Watson doubles back and tackles him, trying to hold him down as he heaps snow onto him.
Emily has made it over to Tristram by now, panting and giggling. She has one last snowball hidden behind her back, which she tosses lazily onto Tristram where he's crouching. It lands square on his head, but he has a hat on and it doesn't hurt. Anyway, she didn't do it to be mean. It was more like a pat on the back, a way of including him. He closes his eyes as the snow flutters down around his ears, then stands up, grinning from ear to ear.
"My dad's clobbering your dad," Emily announces proudly.
Tristram looks at them. Doctor Watson has Father pinned and has just smashed a handful of snow into his hair. "Yeah, he is," Tristram agrees happily. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. They're here together, he and Emily and Father and Doctor Watson, somewhere in the clouds in the middle of a foreign country, cold and wet and having absolutely the most brilliant time of their lives. He's having so much fun watching them he doesn't realise at first that someone else is standing next to him, until the person speaks.
It's an older woman in a blue ski jacket with the hood pulled tight around her face. Her skin is deeply tanned and lined and she is looking at Tristram and Emily with some concern. A man of similar age in a matching jacket is standing next to her, but he has his hood down, white stubble on his chin, and a green knitted hat on his head. He is frowning at Father and Doctor Watson. Both of the strangers are holding two long metal walking sticks with sharp points on the ends.
"Sorry?" Tristram says, polite yet guarded, as he didn't understand what she said. It probably wasn't English anyway.
When she speaks again, though, she does use English, with only a very light accent. "Are you with them?" she says. Obviously she means Father and Doctor Watson
"Yeah, those are our dads," Emily says, beaming.
"Is everything all right?" she asks.
"They're just having a snowball fight," Tristram tells her. Although it's devolved into some kind of wrestling match at this point.
Father and Doctor Watson seem to have noticed that Tristram and Emily have company, as they pull each other up and start tromping back. They are both laughing. Doctor Watson tries to brush the snow off Father as they walk, but it doesn't do much good. His black coat is virtually white and his hair is full of crystals. Both of their faces are red and wet, and they look both extremely pleased with themselves and slightly sheepish.
"Can we help you?" Doctor Watson asks as soon as they're within speaking distance.
"No, no, we thought perhaps there was a problem," the woman answers. She is smiling now. "We saw the two children alone, and you were..." She glances at the spot where the snow is all trampled and broken up.
"Yeah, we er..." Doctor Watson and Father look at each other and snigger so hard they have to look away again. "Sorry, got a bit carried away. All in good fun."
The man leans in to speak in a confidential whisper to their fathers: "Snow in here next time and you win." His accent is much heavier than the woman's. He pulls the waistband of his trousers away from his stomach and points down inside. He winks then makes a really funny face, pretending his pants are full of snow, and everyone laughs.
&&&&&&
The toboggan run, it turns out, is pretty much like a roller coaster. There's a metal track built down the side of the mountain, zig-zagging back and forth, and two-seater sledges that sit on the track and run down it. There's no engine and no way to steer. The only control the rider has are the two handbrakes on either side of the sledge. The fog is thick enough that Tristram can't see the bottom of the track. Tristram is very excited to try it out, especially because Father is going to go with him.
Tristram sits in front, bracketed by his father's long legs, and the man in charge gives them instructions in uneven English while they buckle themselves in. Tristram doesn't catch most of it, and he doesn't think Father's paying attention either, but a few seconds later the light turns green and Father lets up on the brake. At first, they're barely moving, and Tristram thinks perhaps they should have listened to the instructions better because it looked like the people before them were going much faster. But then the track dips a bit and they go around a curve, and they pick up speed rapidly. So much so that Tristram tenses and pushes back against Father, because surely they are going to go hurtling off the track!
They don't, of course, but they do go fast enough that the cold wind takes Tristram's breath away. The sledge rattles and shakes, and Tristram is jerked hard against Father's leg whenever there's a change in direction. They go through a couple of tunnels, whipping in and out so fast Tristram's eyes don't even have time to adjust to the change in light levels. The best part is a long, long spiral that doesn't quite make Tristram dizzy but disorients him just a bit when they even out into a long, straight stretch at the bottom.
When they get to the end, there is a picture of a stick figure pulling the brakes on its sledge, so Father does and they slow almost to a standstill. Tristram is grinning and breathless. That was brilliant! His brain is only now starting to catch up. It feels like it's still halfway up the spiral.
Ahead of them, the track goes steeply uphill. Tristram wonders how they're going to get up that. They don't have nearly enough momentum. But then something hooks onto the bottom of the sledge and he feels them being pulled. The track is at such a sharp angle that Tristram is forced to lean back against Father's chest. It's good and solid, and Tristram fleeingly feels Father's chin against the top of his head. It's almost like an embrace.
Tristram turns his head to grin up at Father. "That was so cool!" he exclaims.
"It was rather fun," Father concurs, as if he's surprised by the fact. His voice is right in Tristram's ear. It tickles.
"Can we do it again?" Tristram asks hopefully.
Father smiles and puts his hand on Tristram's shoulder. He doesn't need to hold the brake anymore, so that's fine. "I'd like that," he says. Tristram would too. Very much.
&&&&&&
Chapter note: There are several toboggan runs in Switzerland like the one described here. I didn't have a particular one in mind, but here is a video of one at Saas Fee, in the canton of Valais:
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