Fic: The Cuckoo's Lullaby, 6/17
Jul. 13th, 2014 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swissmargTitle: The Cuckoo's Lullaby
Author:
swissmarg
Beta readers:ruth0007, 
dioscureantwins
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 Six on AO3
The next morning, Tristram and Emily are already awake and watching cartoons in another language - the curtains drawn firmly shut - when Doctor Watson comes out of the bedroom. The only English channels are all full of news, and anyway it's not necessary to understand what the animated figures are saying in order to follow the story. Not that Tristram is really paying attention. He's mostly anxious to find out whether Father ever came back last night. He assumes so, since the bedroom door was closed when he woke up, and Doctor Watson confirms it when he pauses on his way to the bathroom and tells them Father's still sleeping.
Tristram has no reason to doubt it, but when Doctor Watson goes into the bathroom, Tristram gets up and peeks past the half-open bedroom door. Indeed, the back of Father's head, his shoulders, and one bare leg are visible sticking out from the pile of twisted bedclothes. Tristram can't see his face, but he's not moving, other than the very slight rise and fall of his back as he breathes. Tristram watches him for a good, long while, but the rhythm never falters. If he's faking, he's very convincing.
Tristram wonders if his father was happy sleeping next to Doctor Watson; if that's the reason he's still sleeping, because he's so warm and comfortable and right where he wants to be. Tristram remembers the lines from that poem he had to read for his language arts homework:
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
Tristram is somewhat nonplussed to find, all of a sudden, that he very much wants for it to be true. Some of the aspects of Father and Doctor Watson's friendship have been difficult for Tristram to come to terms with, to be sure, but he can't deny that there have been some other, very good things too. Things like playing in the snow and reading together. More smiles and laughter. Father's promise on his cast and curling up on his lap in the train. And of course riding the toboggan yesterday, firmly ensconced between Father's legs, with his chest solidly at Tristram's back. Those are all things he never had - never would even have dreamt of - before the Watsons came into their lives.
Tristram was afraid that Father's friendship with Doctor Watson would mean less time and attention for Tristram, but it's been the exact opposite so far. Tristram can't remember the last time he and Father did so much together in such a concentrated period of time. It's true that they're on holiday and Father hasn't needed to hare off after any suspects or spend long hours at the morgue, but even when they were back in London, even with the case going on with all the body parts and Mister Tonga, Father paid at least as much attention to Tristram as before. It's turning out that Doctor Watson's place in Father's life isn't being carved out of Tristram's, but out of those hours when Tristram's asleep or at school, or when Father's doing case-related things and wouldn't be able to spend time with Tristram anyway.
And then there are those times when it's just Tristram and Doctor Watson, when Emily's father talks to him, asks his opinion and listens hard. When he gives Tristram time to say what he wants to, even if it's nothing. It's like he can never give a wrong answer when he's talking to Doctor Watson. Or the things the three of them - himself, Doctor Watson, and Emily - have done without Father, like playing at the park or even doing homework. Tristram wouldn't want to give up any of that. Even if Doctor Watson sometimes wants to talk about things that Tristram would rather let lie.
Tristram pulls the bedroom door most of the way shut again and goes back to where Emily is watching cartoons.
Father still isn't up by the time Doctor Watson's showered and dressed, so the three of them go down to the breakfast room alone. It's busy, with people passing by their table so frequently that Tristram doesn't even notice at first that one of them has stopped beside him. He probably would have continued not noticing if it weren't for the way Doctor Watson suddenly goes all still and alert. The way he did at the airport when he was looking for Mister Tonga.
Tristram isn't even looking at Emily's father when it happens; he's trying to get the little pat of butter unwrapped with one hand, and then it's as if someone has clapped a bell jar down over their table, and Tristram can't hear anything but Doctor Watson's silence. He freezes, becoming aware of a faint scent of perfume, floating so lightly on top of the smells of coffee and fresh bread and cocoa from their breakfast that he half fancies he's imagining it.
He turns his head, and there's an expanse of smooth, buff-coloured knitwear beside him, wrapped around a slender woman's figure. He follows the sheath dress up to her heart-shaped face and dark hair twisted into a complicated style at the back of her head. She's staring down at them with a polite, aloof smile, but there's a tension in her arms and neck that tells Tristram she's nervous or at least keyed up.
"Good morning. You must be John," the woman says to Emily's father. Her voice is rich and dark and reminds Tristram of Uncle Mycroft's assistant, especially the way there are things in there that she's not saying but means even more than the words. Something prickles in Tristram at the tone.
"Doctor Watson," he corrects her, which makes Tristram look at him harder, because he sounds angry. Do they know each other? She called him by his first name, so that must mean she knows him, or at least has heard of him. Maybe Doctor Watson has heard of her too. Heard something he doesn't like.
The woman smiles even more broadly, as if he's just confirmed something she wanted to know. She turns to Emily. "And your daughter. What a darling little girl," she coos. Something tells Tristram she doesn't really think Emily is darling, and he bristles. Perhaps he should be afraid, but he isn't. All he knows is that this woman's insulted Emily, somehow, and Doctor Watson didn't like her even before that. Tristram's beginning to think he doesn't like her much either.
Emily, however, doesn't seem to pick up on any of the undertones. She smiles brightly at the woman and looks like she might say something, but just then Doctor Watson wads up his serviette, drops it on his plate, and pushes his chair back like he's going to get up. It's a threatening move, but the woman doesn't so much as flinch.
"I don't know what you think you're-" Doctor Watson says, but the woman speaks over him.
"And you're Tristram." The woman focuses abruptly on him. Everything else disappears. Her eyes are dark, so dark and deep and full, although of what Tristram's not sure. She stares at him, and Tristram can't look away, and then he sees it: her eyes are hungry. It's not like Father when he's gathering information, though. It's more like she's trying to absorb Tristram himself. There's also something more behind that look, trying to get out; again, not like Father, not like when he's trying to put thoughts directly into Tristram's brain. It's something desperate and wild, and it looks like she's having an awful struggle to keep it from breaking free. Fascination mixes with his initial dislike. He thinks he should possibly find her sudden interest in him alarming, but it isn't. It's like watching a chemical reaction under a fume hood: he feels oddly untouched by it all.
"My God, you have his eyes," she says, as if it's a shock, as if that were a momentous fact of staggering importance. She's speaking to Tristram, and yet not. He has no idea who she means, anyway.
All of a sudden, Doctor Watson is standing next to her. Tristram didn't even see him get up. Doctor Watson wraps a hand around her upper arm and says, "Excuse us," to no one in particular, his voice as hard and steely as his grip on her arm. Tristram can see her flesh bulging on either side of his fingers from the pressure, and he thinks distantly that it must hurt.
The woman allows herself to be removed graciously and with a minimum of fuss; her only token protest is to turn her head toward the table, keeping Tristram in her sights until it becomes physically impossible.
"Who's that?" Emily asks in a low voice as soon as the woman has looked away and they are out of earshot.
"I don't know," Tristram says, only half paying attention to her. He's still watching her father and the woman. Doctor Watson leads her out of the breakfast room, but Tristram can still see them. Doctor Watson's let go of her, and they're talking. He's shaking his head and pointing at their table. The woman looks angry too now, her eyes and mouth hard and flat.
"She knows you," Emily points out, adding unnecessarily, "She's pretty."
Tristram realises with a start that she's right. Not the latter point, which is entirely irrelevant, but the first part. He was so distracted by her eyes and everything they were trying to say to - or hide from - him that he didn't notice: she knew his name. A prickly shiver runs down Tristram's back and lodges in his stomach, and this time it is fear. Not so much that he loses track of everything else, but still uncomfortable enough that he wants to go back upstairs and find his father. He doesn't, though. Doctor Watson is here with them, not letting them out of his sight. He won't let anything happen.
Tristram turns to Emily. Her brown eyes are curious and guileless. "She knew your father and you too," he points out.
Emily looks over at the woman and her father, thoughtful. "Maybe she works with my dad or something."
It's possible, although it's a pretty fantastic coincidence that they'd run into each other here in Switzerland. Still: "Then how would she know me?" Tristram wonders.
"I don't know," Emily says, frowning, as if she hadn't considered that point, and resumes eating her jam-smeared bread. "Maybe she works with your dad."
Or has something to do with a case. Maybe even the bogeyman. That would explain why Doctor Watson got angry and took her away from Emily and Tristram. But it wouldn't explain why he's letting the woman walk away now and coming back alone.
"Who was that?" Emily asks as soon as Doctor Watson sits down again.
He puts his elbows on the table and glances at Tristram before answering, "An old friend of Sherlock's."
Tristram can tell there's more that Doctor Watson isn't saying, but that information alone is interesting enough. Because Father doesn't have friends. Well, he didn't until Doctor Watson. That doesn't mean he never did, of course, but she must be a very, very old friend in that case, from before Tristram was born.
"How did she know who we were then?" Emily asks.
"Sherlock ran into her last night. He must have mentioned being here with us." Doctor Watson takes his phone out. "At least I hope that's all it is," he mutters under his breath.
Emily opens her mouth to ask another question, but her father cuts her off, rather sharply: "Look, I know you're curious, but it's not really my place to say anything more. Eat your breakfast." He starts jabbing at his phone. His jaw is stiff and his mouth is thin.
Tristram turns to Emily, expecting to exchange a puzzled look, but she's staring down at her corn flakes.
After they finish breakfast - wordlessly and quickly, as Doctor Watson is busy texting the whole time and neither Emily nor Tristram really feels like eating anything more - they go back up to their apartment.
Father's sitting at the little table in the living room, doing something on his computer. He's dressed and his hair is damp, so he must have just finished showering. He barely glances at them when they come in.
"Lunch today," he says, frowning at his computer.
Doctor Watson goes over to stand behind Father so he can see the computer screen. He puts both hands on Father's shoulders. Emily joins them, leaning against her father. Tristram slides into the armchair on the other side of the table. He's not sure why, but it feels important that they all be together.
"She get back to you already?" Doctor Watson says to Father.
"I have her on now." Father types something.
"I can take the kids out if you want to meet with her," Doctor Watson says.
"She wants to see Tristram."
Tristram reckons 'she' can only mean the woman from downstairs. But she already saw him. Why does she want to see him again? And what did she mean about his eyes?
Doctor Watson looks over at Tristram. "She's already seen him," Doctor Watson says stubbornly, echoing Tristram's thoughts. Has he learned some trick from Father for seeing what someone's thinking?
"If I don't agree to this, she'll find some other way," Father says. "I'd like it to be on my terms."
"We can leave," Doctor Watson says flatly.
"No." The answer is absolute. Tristram knows better than to try to argue with that tone, but apparently Doctor Watson doesn't. He lets go of Father and takes a step forward so he can look him in the face. Emily drifts away, over to Tristram, and hitches one hip up on the arm of his chair.
"No, Sherlock..." Doctor Watson says as if Father is a small child who doesn't understand the language, "we can leave." He speaks slowly and pokes his index finger down hard on the table to underscore his point.
Father takes his hands off the keyboard and leans back. "You think she won't follow?" he counters, as if it's obvious, which it probably is. Or would be, if Tristram had any clue what they were talking about.
"She's had eight years to-" Doctor Watson presses his lips together and looks away.
"Yes, and now she's decided the time has come," Father says testily.
"I don't like it."
"Imagine how much less you'd like it if you actually knew her."
Doctor Watson purses his lips like he wants to laugh but doesn't. He shakes his head. "Not just that. This can't be a coincidence."
"No. It's not," Father agrees. He leans forward to resume typing. "Which is why it's imperative that we go along with it."
"Sherlock, you-" Doctor Watson looks at Emily and Tristram. It's clear he has something to say that he doesn't want them to hear. "Would you two please go into the bedroom? Just for a minute." His voice is tight and high, like it's an effort for him not to yell.
"Where are you going?" Emily asks. Her voice is also tight, but with unhappiness.
"We'll be right here," her father assures her, "but I'd like to discuss something with Sherlock in private."
"Is it about the lady from breakfast?" Emily asks. Tristram already knows the answer to that before Doctor Watson says it.
"Yes, now please, Emily. Tris, could you...?" Doctor Watson jerks his head toward the bedroom. He looks like he's about to lose his temper, although not, Tristram thinks, because of him and Emily.
Tristram gets up and starts toward the bedroom. Halfway there, he stops and asks Father, "Would you be with me?"
"Where?" Father asks, still focused almost entirely on his computer.
"If I have to see that lady again, would you go with me?"
Now Father raises his head and meets his eyes, the way he does when he's going to say something he wants Tristram to absorb and know as deep inside as knowledge can go.
"Yes," he says. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Tristram knows that's a promise. Just like he promised he'd track down the man who shot him, and he did. Mister Tonga's in jail now and won't ever be coming after them again. Tristram knows Father will protect him, just like he did at the airport. He made himself a target instead of Doctor Watson, Tristram, and Emily. Tristram has understood that now. Somehow, Father knew that Mister Tonga wouldn't shoot him. It's not clear how he knew that, but he did, and he was right. He'll be right this time too. He won't let the woman with the wild eyes and the words that mean more - or perhaps less - than she says, hurt him.
"Then I don't mind going," Tristram announces.
Father almost smiles. "Good. That will certainly make things easier."
Tristram turns around and walks into the bedroom, his back a little straighter, with Emily right behind him.
Tristram starts to close the door behind them, but Emily grabs the handle before it falls all the way shut and whispers, "Leave it open a bit so we can hear."
She's not expecting him to resist, so she doesn't hold on very hard, and he's easily able to push the door shut the rest of the way. It makes a bit more noise than he intended, but on the other hand that means Father and Doctor Watson will certainly have heard it close and know they can talk without being overheard.
"Hey!" she protests, looking at him in surprise.
"We're not supposed to listen," he says, even though she knows that already.
"So?" She presses one ear to the door.
"I don't know, I just don't think we should listen." He doesn't know how else to explain it. He's listened in on conversations lots of times, both pretending to be asleep or actually eavesdropping on the stairs or behind cracked doors. He's gained some useful information that way, too, but this is the first time Doctor Watson specifically asked them to leave so that he and Father could talk in private, and somehow, Tristram knows that Doctor Watson trusts them - trusts Tristram - to follow that request. Listening in now would feel like betraying that trust. There's no concrete reason, though, no repercussions to be feared. Nothing that would convince practical-minded Emily.
Tristram sits down on the end of the bed. "They're probably just kissing anyway," he says lightly, as if it doesn't matter to him what they're doing - or what they're talking about. He thinks it should be a good way to distract Emily, though, and he's right.
She grins and steps away from the door. "Yeah. Did you tell your dad that it was okay?"
Tristram hums an affirmation. He did tell him, back before everything with Mister Tonga happened. He didn't quite mean it then, but he said it because he didn't want his father to be unhappy because of him. Now he finds he actually means it. Or would mean it, if he said it to his father now. Not that he particularly wants to see Father and Doctor Watson doing that - he actively avoids thinking about those pictures from the photo machine - but he really, truly doesn't mind that Doctor Watson and his father are very good friends now. Maybe even boyfriends.
Emily is standing near the head of the bed. "What's this?" she says curiously. The edge of something shiny and purple is sticking out from under one of the pillows. She slides it the rest of the way out. It's a strip of sealed foil packets, a little smaller than the ones individually sealed disinfectant wipes come in. Emily peers at the writing.
"What's it say?" Tristram asks.
Emily shrugs and hands the strip to him. "It's not in English."
Tristram takes a look but doesn't understand it either. The only word he halfway recognises is 'präservativ', which must mean preservatives. Probably something to do with the ingredients of whatever's inside. It feels like a single, malleable piece of something. He tosses it onto one of the pillows lying askew near the head of the bed.
"Probably sweets or gum," he surmises. Although Father never eats sweets or chews gum, and he's never seen Doctor Watson with them either. Maybe it's from the hotel. Tristram knows sometimes they leave a piece of chocolate on the pillow. Father solved a case because of that once.
Emily bounces down onto the bed beside Tristram. "What do you want to do today?"
Tristram wouldn't mind going to the toboggan run again, actually. He's not sure what else he can really do with his cast. But then he'd also thought he couldn't go tobogganing, and it turned out not to be a problem. Maybe they can put a plastic bag around his cast like they do when he bathes, and they could go to the waterpark he saw in the tourism magazine on the aeroplane. Some of the attractions there looked pretty fun.
When he explains his idea to Emily, though, she allows that it does sound fun but she's still rather keen on going snowboarding.
"We can go to a waterpark back home anytime," she argues, "but we might not ever get to come to the Alps again. Plus," she says, "you only need your legs and feet to go snowboarding."
Tristram rather thinks arms are important too, for balance, and you need your hands to catch yourself if you fall - which he's certain to do. It probably wouldn't be very good if he landed on his injured hand, cast or no cast.
They're still discussing the pros and cons when the door opens and Doctor Watson leans in.
"You can come out now," he says. He smiles, but his jaw still looks tense.
Emily and Tristram follow him back to the main room, where Tristram's father is standing at the counter by the wall, making himself tea. He glances at them over his shoulder as they come in, but doesn't turn around.
Doctor Watson picks up the chair Father was sitting in before and swings it around to face Emily and Tristram then sits down, bracing his elbows on his knees.
"All right, here's the deal," he says. His tone of voice says he doesn't want any trouble from them. "We're going to have a bit of a parent-child day today. Tris, you and your dad are going to spend the day together, and you and I," he says, turning to Emily, "are going to find something for just the two of us to do."
Tristram doesn't think that sounds awful at all. He wonders why Doctor Watson is anxious about it.
Emily, though, doesn't seem quite as gung-ho. Her eyebrows draw together. "Why can't we all go together?"
"Tris and Sherlock have something special planned," her father explains, tilting his head toward Father, who is now leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching them.
Tristram doesn't think that's entirely accurate, as he certainly didn't have a hand in the planning of whatever is going on at all. But he does like the idea of him and Father doing something special. He suspects it has something to do with the woman from breakfast, but that might be exciting as well. Like escaping from the hospital.
"We'll get back together later on, though," Doctor Watson says, his expression softening at Emily's unhappy look. "I was thinking we could all go to that igloo restaurant for dinner, how about that?" he offers.
Emily appears appeased. "Cool!" she says. Her eyes sparkle and she grins at Tristram. He remembers the pictures from the airplane magazine. It's a restaurant inside an actual igloo, with everything made of snow and ice. It did look very cool. In both senses of the word.
"We could meet back here at five," Doctor Watson says. "I'll make reservations. That enough time, Sherlock?" He checks with Father.
"I should think so."
Doctor Watson looks pleased and sends Emily off to get dressed again in warm layers. Father says they won't be leaving until later, so Tristram sits on the pull-out bed and watches Emily run back and forth. Tristram wonders if the woman from breakfast has something to do with a case. She must do. If she really was an old friend of Father's, that friendship no longer seems to be extant. At least, Father certainly didn't seem very enthusiastic about meeting with her, based on the brief snippets of the conversation he and Doctor Watson had before they sent Emily and Tristram to the bedroom. On the other hand, if she's a witness - or even a suspect - in a case, Father would be a lot more eager to meet with her. So Tristram is kind of stumped.
Doctor Watson is standing next to Father now by the counter, one hand on his shoulder and leaning in close while Father stirs sugar into his tea. It looks like Father's explaining something to Doctor Watson and Doctor Watson's listening intently - not upset or unhappy like he sometimes is when Father tells him his plans. In fact, he keeps nodding and murmuring things back with a serious, earnest expression, so he must agree. Unfortunately, their voices are too low for Tristram to hear. Plus, Emily keeps up a steady stream of chatter on topics such as who else in her class has been snowboarding, what a shame it is her phone doesn't have a camera, as she wants to take lots of pictures for Tristram, and where in the world her fuzzy blue socks are. The steady noise and flurry of motion she makes as she gets ready is actually starting to get to Tristram. Just when he thinks he's going to have to get up and go back into the bedroom to calm his head down, Doctor Watson and Father step away from the counter together.
Father takes his teacup to the table and sets it down next to his computer.
"Ready, Em?" Doctor Watson asks, rubbing his hands together.
Emily stops where she is in the middle of the room. She has on what looks like every item of clothing she brought with her, including her outerwear. Tristram can see her hat and a pair of socks sticking out of the pockets of her jacket. Her cheeks are red and her hairline is slightly damp already. Her face falls suddenly. "I don't have a helmet!" she all but wails.
"We'll hire everything," her father assures her. "Now come on, let's make time. I think there's a shuttle bus to the slopes leaving in a few minutes from downstairs." He goes over to where Father is standing by the table, tapping at his phone.
"Keep in touch," Doctor Watson says. It sounds like a reminder.
"Every hour," Father says without looking up, as if he's repeating something they've already agreed on.
"Otherwise I will contact Mycroft." Tristram hears it for the threat it is, and apparently Father does too, judging by the scowl on his face. Doctor Watson touches Father's elbow and tilts his head so he's in Father's line of vision. "It's going to be fine."
Father's frown drifts even further toward irritation. "You hardly need to reassure me."
"No, God forbid." Doctor Watson almost looks like he's going to smile. "If you need anything at all-"
"I'm going to handle this, John." Tristram can hear the tightness and defensiveness in that statement, although Father's voice isn't bristling with acid barbs the way it gets when he says something like that to Uncle Mycroft.
"Yeah, yeah, you are," Doctor Watson says. He sounds surprisingly gentle. "I know. I just..." He steps in close to Father, puts one hand on the back of his neck and pulls him down for a firm, quick kiss. Father lets himself be distracted from his phone for it. When their faces separate, Doctor Watson keeps his hand on Father's neck and looks really hard into his eyes. "You know," he says.
Father puts his hand up on Doctor Watson's elbow and stares right back. His eyes are really big. It looks like he didn't might not have known whatever it is. Tristram can see his throat move as he swallows. Eventually, he nods once.
Doctor Watson smiles. It's a small smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle and his face looks like the sun. He steps away from Father and turns to Tristram. He keeps smiling, but something seems to fall away from it. It's still a nice smile, however, and it makes Tristram feel good.
"We'll see you tonight, Tris," he says.
"Wish me to break a leg!" Emily calls to him with a big smile from where she's sweating in her pile of winter clothing.
"No, God no!" Doctor Watson protests quickly. "That's for the theatre, not winter sports."
"Have fun," Tristram wishes her instead.
"You too!" She darts over to him and squeezes him with her puffy arms, and then she and her father are gone.
Chapter note: The poem quoted is Sea Fever by John Masefield.
Author:
swissmargBeta readers:
ruth0007, 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 Six on AO3
Chapter Six
The next morning, Tristram and Emily are already awake and watching cartoons in another language - the curtains drawn firmly shut - when Doctor Watson comes out of the bedroom. The only English channels are all full of news, and anyway it's not necessary to understand what the animated figures are saying in order to follow the story. Not that Tristram is really paying attention. He's mostly anxious to find out whether Father ever came back last night. He assumes so, since the bedroom door was closed when he woke up, and Doctor Watson confirms it when he pauses on his way to the bathroom and tells them Father's still sleeping.
Tristram has no reason to doubt it, but when Doctor Watson goes into the bathroom, Tristram gets up and peeks past the half-open bedroom door. Indeed, the back of Father's head, his shoulders, and one bare leg are visible sticking out from the pile of twisted bedclothes. Tristram can't see his face, but he's not moving, other than the very slight rise and fall of his back as he breathes. Tristram watches him for a good, long while, but the rhythm never falters. If he's faking, he's very convincing.
Tristram wonders if his father was happy sleeping next to Doctor Watson; if that's the reason he's still sleeping, because he's so warm and comfortable and right where he wants to be. Tristram remembers the lines from that poem he had to read for his language arts homework:
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
Tristram is somewhat nonplussed to find, all of a sudden, that he very much wants for it to be true. Some of the aspects of Father and Doctor Watson's friendship have been difficult for Tristram to come to terms with, to be sure, but he can't deny that there have been some other, very good things too. Things like playing in the snow and reading together. More smiles and laughter. Father's promise on his cast and curling up on his lap in the train. And of course riding the toboggan yesterday, firmly ensconced between Father's legs, with his chest solidly at Tristram's back. Those are all things he never had - never would even have dreamt of - before the Watsons came into their lives.
Tristram was afraid that Father's friendship with Doctor Watson would mean less time and attention for Tristram, but it's been the exact opposite so far. Tristram can't remember the last time he and Father did so much together in such a concentrated period of time. It's true that they're on holiday and Father hasn't needed to hare off after any suspects or spend long hours at the morgue, but even when they were back in London, even with the case going on with all the body parts and Mister Tonga, Father paid at least as much attention to Tristram as before. It's turning out that Doctor Watson's place in Father's life isn't being carved out of Tristram's, but out of those hours when Tristram's asleep or at school, or when Father's doing case-related things and wouldn't be able to spend time with Tristram anyway.
And then there are those times when it's just Tristram and Doctor Watson, when Emily's father talks to him, asks his opinion and listens hard. When he gives Tristram time to say what he wants to, even if it's nothing. It's like he can never give a wrong answer when he's talking to Doctor Watson. Or the things the three of them - himself, Doctor Watson, and Emily - have done without Father, like playing at the park or even doing homework. Tristram wouldn't want to give up any of that. Even if Doctor Watson sometimes wants to talk about things that Tristram would rather let lie.
Tristram pulls the bedroom door most of the way shut again and goes back to where Emily is watching cartoons.
Father still isn't up by the time Doctor Watson's showered and dressed, so the three of them go down to the breakfast room alone. It's busy, with people passing by their table so frequently that Tristram doesn't even notice at first that one of them has stopped beside him. He probably would have continued not noticing if it weren't for the way Doctor Watson suddenly goes all still and alert. The way he did at the airport when he was looking for Mister Tonga.
Tristram isn't even looking at Emily's father when it happens; he's trying to get the little pat of butter unwrapped with one hand, and then it's as if someone has clapped a bell jar down over their table, and Tristram can't hear anything but Doctor Watson's silence. He freezes, becoming aware of a faint scent of perfume, floating so lightly on top of the smells of coffee and fresh bread and cocoa from their breakfast that he half fancies he's imagining it.
He turns his head, and there's an expanse of smooth, buff-coloured knitwear beside him, wrapped around a slender woman's figure. He follows the sheath dress up to her heart-shaped face and dark hair twisted into a complicated style at the back of her head. She's staring down at them with a polite, aloof smile, but there's a tension in her arms and neck that tells Tristram she's nervous or at least keyed up.
"Good morning. You must be John," the woman says to Emily's father. Her voice is rich and dark and reminds Tristram of Uncle Mycroft's assistant, especially the way there are things in there that she's not saying but means even more than the words. Something prickles in Tristram at the tone.
"Doctor Watson," he corrects her, which makes Tristram look at him harder, because he sounds angry. Do they know each other? She called him by his first name, so that must mean she knows him, or at least has heard of him. Maybe Doctor Watson has heard of her too. Heard something he doesn't like.
The woman smiles even more broadly, as if he's just confirmed something she wanted to know. She turns to Emily. "And your daughter. What a darling little girl," she coos. Something tells Tristram she doesn't really think Emily is darling, and he bristles. Perhaps he should be afraid, but he isn't. All he knows is that this woman's insulted Emily, somehow, and Doctor Watson didn't like her even before that. Tristram's beginning to think he doesn't like her much either.
Emily, however, doesn't seem to pick up on any of the undertones. She smiles brightly at the woman and looks like she might say something, but just then Doctor Watson wads up his serviette, drops it on his plate, and pushes his chair back like he's going to get up. It's a threatening move, but the woman doesn't so much as flinch.
"I don't know what you think you're-" Doctor Watson says, but the woman speaks over him.
"And you're Tristram." The woman focuses abruptly on him. Everything else disappears. Her eyes are dark, so dark and deep and full, although of what Tristram's not sure. She stares at him, and Tristram can't look away, and then he sees it: her eyes are hungry. It's not like Father when he's gathering information, though. It's more like she's trying to absorb Tristram himself. There's also something more behind that look, trying to get out; again, not like Father, not like when he's trying to put thoughts directly into Tristram's brain. It's something desperate and wild, and it looks like she's having an awful struggle to keep it from breaking free. Fascination mixes with his initial dislike. He thinks he should possibly find her sudden interest in him alarming, but it isn't. It's like watching a chemical reaction under a fume hood: he feels oddly untouched by it all.
"My God, you have his eyes," she says, as if it's a shock, as if that were a momentous fact of staggering importance. She's speaking to Tristram, and yet not. He has no idea who she means, anyway.
All of a sudden, Doctor Watson is standing next to her. Tristram didn't even see him get up. Doctor Watson wraps a hand around her upper arm and says, "Excuse us," to no one in particular, his voice as hard and steely as his grip on her arm. Tristram can see her flesh bulging on either side of his fingers from the pressure, and he thinks distantly that it must hurt.
The woman allows herself to be removed graciously and with a minimum of fuss; her only token protest is to turn her head toward the table, keeping Tristram in her sights until it becomes physically impossible.
"Who's that?" Emily asks in a low voice as soon as the woman has looked away and they are out of earshot.
"I don't know," Tristram says, only half paying attention to her. He's still watching her father and the woman. Doctor Watson leads her out of the breakfast room, but Tristram can still see them. Doctor Watson's let go of her, and they're talking. He's shaking his head and pointing at their table. The woman looks angry too now, her eyes and mouth hard and flat.
"She knows you," Emily points out, adding unnecessarily, "She's pretty."
Tristram realises with a start that she's right. Not the latter point, which is entirely irrelevant, but the first part. He was so distracted by her eyes and everything they were trying to say to - or hide from - him that he didn't notice: she knew his name. A prickly shiver runs down Tristram's back and lodges in his stomach, and this time it is fear. Not so much that he loses track of everything else, but still uncomfortable enough that he wants to go back upstairs and find his father. He doesn't, though. Doctor Watson is here with them, not letting them out of his sight. He won't let anything happen.
Tristram turns to Emily. Her brown eyes are curious and guileless. "She knew your father and you too," he points out.
Emily looks over at the woman and her father, thoughtful. "Maybe she works with my dad or something."
It's possible, although it's a pretty fantastic coincidence that they'd run into each other here in Switzerland. Still: "Then how would she know me?" Tristram wonders.
"I don't know," Emily says, frowning, as if she hadn't considered that point, and resumes eating her jam-smeared bread. "Maybe she works with your dad."
Or has something to do with a case. Maybe even the bogeyman. That would explain why Doctor Watson got angry and took her away from Emily and Tristram. But it wouldn't explain why he's letting the woman walk away now and coming back alone.
"Who was that?" Emily asks as soon as Doctor Watson sits down again.
He puts his elbows on the table and glances at Tristram before answering, "An old friend of Sherlock's."
Tristram can tell there's more that Doctor Watson isn't saying, but that information alone is interesting enough. Because Father doesn't have friends. Well, he didn't until Doctor Watson. That doesn't mean he never did, of course, but she must be a very, very old friend in that case, from before Tristram was born.
"How did she know who we were then?" Emily asks.
"Sherlock ran into her last night. He must have mentioned being here with us." Doctor Watson takes his phone out. "At least I hope that's all it is," he mutters under his breath.
Emily opens her mouth to ask another question, but her father cuts her off, rather sharply: "Look, I know you're curious, but it's not really my place to say anything more. Eat your breakfast." He starts jabbing at his phone. His jaw is stiff and his mouth is thin.
Tristram turns to Emily, expecting to exchange a puzzled look, but she's staring down at her corn flakes.
After they finish breakfast - wordlessly and quickly, as Doctor Watson is busy texting the whole time and neither Emily nor Tristram really feels like eating anything more - they go back up to their apartment.
Father's sitting at the little table in the living room, doing something on his computer. He's dressed and his hair is damp, so he must have just finished showering. He barely glances at them when they come in.
"Lunch today," he says, frowning at his computer.
Doctor Watson goes over to stand behind Father so he can see the computer screen. He puts both hands on Father's shoulders. Emily joins them, leaning against her father. Tristram slides into the armchair on the other side of the table. He's not sure why, but it feels important that they all be together.
"She get back to you already?" Doctor Watson says to Father.
"I have her on now." Father types something.
"I can take the kids out if you want to meet with her," Doctor Watson says.
"She wants to see Tristram."
Tristram reckons 'she' can only mean the woman from downstairs. But she already saw him. Why does she want to see him again? And what did she mean about his eyes?
Doctor Watson looks over at Tristram. "She's already seen him," Doctor Watson says stubbornly, echoing Tristram's thoughts. Has he learned some trick from Father for seeing what someone's thinking?
"If I don't agree to this, she'll find some other way," Father says. "I'd like it to be on my terms."
"We can leave," Doctor Watson says flatly.
"No." The answer is absolute. Tristram knows better than to try to argue with that tone, but apparently Doctor Watson doesn't. He lets go of Father and takes a step forward so he can look him in the face. Emily drifts away, over to Tristram, and hitches one hip up on the arm of his chair.
"No, Sherlock..." Doctor Watson says as if Father is a small child who doesn't understand the language, "we can leave." He speaks slowly and pokes his index finger down hard on the table to underscore his point.
Father takes his hands off the keyboard and leans back. "You think she won't follow?" he counters, as if it's obvious, which it probably is. Or would be, if Tristram had any clue what they were talking about.
"She's had eight years to-" Doctor Watson presses his lips together and looks away.
"Yes, and now she's decided the time has come," Father says testily.
"I don't like it."
"Imagine how much less you'd like it if you actually knew her."
Doctor Watson purses his lips like he wants to laugh but doesn't. He shakes his head. "Not just that. This can't be a coincidence."
"No. It's not," Father agrees. He leans forward to resume typing. "Which is why it's imperative that we go along with it."
"Sherlock, you-" Doctor Watson looks at Emily and Tristram. It's clear he has something to say that he doesn't want them to hear. "Would you two please go into the bedroom? Just for a minute." His voice is tight and high, like it's an effort for him not to yell.
"Where are you going?" Emily asks. Her voice is also tight, but with unhappiness.
"We'll be right here," her father assures her, "but I'd like to discuss something with Sherlock in private."
"Is it about the lady from breakfast?" Emily asks. Tristram already knows the answer to that before Doctor Watson says it.
"Yes, now please, Emily. Tris, could you...?" Doctor Watson jerks his head toward the bedroom. He looks like he's about to lose his temper, although not, Tristram thinks, because of him and Emily.
Tristram gets up and starts toward the bedroom. Halfway there, he stops and asks Father, "Would you be with me?"
"Where?" Father asks, still focused almost entirely on his computer.
"If I have to see that lady again, would you go with me?"
Now Father raises his head and meets his eyes, the way he does when he's going to say something he wants Tristram to absorb and know as deep inside as knowledge can go.
"Yes," he says. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Tristram knows that's a promise. Just like he promised he'd track down the man who shot him, and he did. Mister Tonga's in jail now and won't ever be coming after them again. Tristram knows Father will protect him, just like he did at the airport. He made himself a target instead of Doctor Watson, Tristram, and Emily. Tristram has understood that now. Somehow, Father knew that Mister Tonga wouldn't shoot him. It's not clear how he knew that, but he did, and he was right. He'll be right this time too. He won't let the woman with the wild eyes and the words that mean more - or perhaps less - than she says, hurt him.
"Then I don't mind going," Tristram announces.
Father almost smiles. "Good. That will certainly make things easier."
Tristram turns around and walks into the bedroom, his back a little straighter, with Emily right behind him.
Tristram starts to close the door behind them, but Emily grabs the handle before it falls all the way shut and whispers, "Leave it open a bit so we can hear."
She's not expecting him to resist, so she doesn't hold on very hard, and he's easily able to push the door shut the rest of the way. It makes a bit more noise than he intended, but on the other hand that means Father and Doctor Watson will certainly have heard it close and know they can talk without being overheard.
"Hey!" she protests, looking at him in surprise.
"We're not supposed to listen," he says, even though she knows that already.
"So?" She presses one ear to the door.
"I don't know, I just don't think we should listen." He doesn't know how else to explain it. He's listened in on conversations lots of times, both pretending to be asleep or actually eavesdropping on the stairs or behind cracked doors. He's gained some useful information that way, too, but this is the first time Doctor Watson specifically asked them to leave so that he and Father could talk in private, and somehow, Tristram knows that Doctor Watson trusts them - trusts Tristram - to follow that request. Listening in now would feel like betraying that trust. There's no concrete reason, though, no repercussions to be feared. Nothing that would convince practical-minded Emily.
Tristram sits down on the end of the bed. "They're probably just kissing anyway," he says lightly, as if it doesn't matter to him what they're doing - or what they're talking about. He thinks it should be a good way to distract Emily, though, and he's right.
She grins and steps away from the door. "Yeah. Did you tell your dad that it was okay?"
Tristram hums an affirmation. He did tell him, back before everything with Mister Tonga happened. He didn't quite mean it then, but he said it because he didn't want his father to be unhappy because of him. Now he finds he actually means it. Or would mean it, if he said it to his father now. Not that he particularly wants to see Father and Doctor Watson doing that - he actively avoids thinking about those pictures from the photo machine - but he really, truly doesn't mind that Doctor Watson and his father are very good friends now. Maybe even boyfriends.
Emily is standing near the head of the bed. "What's this?" she says curiously. The edge of something shiny and purple is sticking out from under one of the pillows. She slides it the rest of the way out. It's a strip of sealed foil packets, a little smaller than the ones individually sealed disinfectant wipes come in. Emily peers at the writing.
"What's it say?" Tristram asks.
Emily shrugs and hands the strip to him. "It's not in English."
Tristram takes a look but doesn't understand it either. The only word he halfway recognises is 'präservativ', which must mean preservatives. Probably something to do with the ingredients of whatever's inside. It feels like a single, malleable piece of something. He tosses it onto one of the pillows lying askew near the head of the bed.
"Probably sweets or gum," he surmises. Although Father never eats sweets or chews gum, and he's never seen Doctor Watson with them either. Maybe it's from the hotel. Tristram knows sometimes they leave a piece of chocolate on the pillow. Father solved a case because of that once.
Emily bounces down onto the bed beside Tristram. "What do you want to do today?"
Tristram wouldn't mind going to the toboggan run again, actually. He's not sure what else he can really do with his cast. But then he'd also thought he couldn't go tobogganing, and it turned out not to be a problem. Maybe they can put a plastic bag around his cast like they do when he bathes, and they could go to the waterpark he saw in the tourism magazine on the aeroplane. Some of the attractions there looked pretty fun.
When he explains his idea to Emily, though, she allows that it does sound fun but she's still rather keen on going snowboarding.
"We can go to a waterpark back home anytime," she argues, "but we might not ever get to come to the Alps again. Plus," she says, "you only need your legs and feet to go snowboarding."
Tristram rather thinks arms are important too, for balance, and you need your hands to catch yourself if you fall - which he's certain to do. It probably wouldn't be very good if he landed on his injured hand, cast or no cast.
They're still discussing the pros and cons when the door opens and Doctor Watson leans in.
"You can come out now," he says. He smiles, but his jaw still looks tense.
Emily and Tristram follow him back to the main room, where Tristram's father is standing at the counter by the wall, making himself tea. He glances at them over his shoulder as they come in, but doesn't turn around.
Doctor Watson picks up the chair Father was sitting in before and swings it around to face Emily and Tristram then sits down, bracing his elbows on his knees.
"All right, here's the deal," he says. His tone of voice says he doesn't want any trouble from them. "We're going to have a bit of a parent-child day today. Tris, you and your dad are going to spend the day together, and you and I," he says, turning to Emily, "are going to find something for just the two of us to do."
Tristram doesn't think that sounds awful at all. He wonders why Doctor Watson is anxious about it.
Emily, though, doesn't seem quite as gung-ho. Her eyebrows draw together. "Why can't we all go together?"
"Tris and Sherlock have something special planned," her father explains, tilting his head toward Father, who is now leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching them.
Tristram doesn't think that's entirely accurate, as he certainly didn't have a hand in the planning of whatever is going on at all. But he does like the idea of him and Father doing something special. He suspects it has something to do with the woman from breakfast, but that might be exciting as well. Like escaping from the hospital.
"We'll get back together later on, though," Doctor Watson says, his expression softening at Emily's unhappy look. "I was thinking we could all go to that igloo restaurant for dinner, how about that?" he offers.
Emily appears appeased. "Cool!" she says. Her eyes sparkle and she grins at Tristram. He remembers the pictures from the airplane magazine. It's a restaurant inside an actual igloo, with everything made of snow and ice. It did look very cool. In both senses of the word.
"We could meet back here at five," Doctor Watson says. "I'll make reservations. That enough time, Sherlock?" He checks with Father.
"I should think so."
Doctor Watson looks pleased and sends Emily off to get dressed again in warm layers. Father says they won't be leaving until later, so Tristram sits on the pull-out bed and watches Emily run back and forth. Tristram wonders if the woman from breakfast has something to do with a case. She must do. If she really was an old friend of Father's, that friendship no longer seems to be extant. At least, Father certainly didn't seem very enthusiastic about meeting with her, based on the brief snippets of the conversation he and Doctor Watson had before they sent Emily and Tristram to the bedroom. On the other hand, if she's a witness - or even a suspect - in a case, Father would be a lot more eager to meet with her. So Tristram is kind of stumped.
Doctor Watson is standing next to Father now by the counter, one hand on his shoulder and leaning in close while Father stirs sugar into his tea. It looks like Father's explaining something to Doctor Watson and Doctor Watson's listening intently - not upset or unhappy like he sometimes is when Father tells him his plans. In fact, he keeps nodding and murmuring things back with a serious, earnest expression, so he must agree. Unfortunately, their voices are too low for Tristram to hear. Plus, Emily keeps up a steady stream of chatter on topics such as who else in her class has been snowboarding, what a shame it is her phone doesn't have a camera, as she wants to take lots of pictures for Tristram, and where in the world her fuzzy blue socks are. The steady noise and flurry of motion she makes as she gets ready is actually starting to get to Tristram. Just when he thinks he's going to have to get up and go back into the bedroom to calm his head down, Doctor Watson and Father step away from the counter together.
Father takes his teacup to the table and sets it down next to his computer.
"Ready, Em?" Doctor Watson asks, rubbing his hands together.
Emily stops where she is in the middle of the room. She has on what looks like every item of clothing she brought with her, including her outerwear. Tristram can see her hat and a pair of socks sticking out of the pockets of her jacket. Her cheeks are red and her hairline is slightly damp already. Her face falls suddenly. "I don't have a helmet!" she all but wails.
"We'll hire everything," her father assures her. "Now come on, let's make time. I think there's a shuttle bus to the slopes leaving in a few minutes from downstairs." He goes over to where Father is standing by the table, tapping at his phone.
"Keep in touch," Doctor Watson says. It sounds like a reminder.
"Every hour," Father says without looking up, as if he's repeating something they've already agreed on.
"Otherwise I will contact Mycroft." Tristram hears it for the threat it is, and apparently Father does too, judging by the scowl on his face. Doctor Watson touches Father's elbow and tilts his head so he's in Father's line of vision. "It's going to be fine."
Father's frown drifts even further toward irritation. "You hardly need to reassure me."
"No, God forbid." Doctor Watson almost looks like he's going to smile. "If you need anything at all-"
"I'm going to handle this, John." Tristram can hear the tightness and defensiveness in that statement, although Father's voice isn't bristling with acid barbs the way it gets when he says something like that to Uncle Mycroft.
"Yeah, yeah, you are," Doctor Watson says. He sounds surprisingly gentle. "I know. I just..." He steps in close to Father, puts one hand on the back of his neck and pulls him down for a firm, quick kiss. Father lets himself be distracted from his phone for it. When their faces separate, Doctor Watson keeps his hand on Father's neck and looks really hard into his eyes. "You know," he says.
Father puts his hand up on Doctor Watson's elbow and stares right back. His eyes are really big. It looks like he didn't might not have known whatever it is. Tristram can see his throat move as he swallows. Eventually, he nods once.
Doctor Watson smiles. It's a small smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle and his face looks like the sun. He steps away from Father and turns to Tristram. He keeps smiling, but something seems to fall away from it. It's still a nice smile, however, and it makes Tristram feel good.
"We'll see you tonight, Tris," he says.
"Wish me to break a leg!" Emily calls to him with a big smile from where she's sweating in her pile of winter clothing.
"No, God no!" Doctor Watson protests quickly. "That's for the theatre, not winter sports."
"Have fun," Tristram wishes her instead.
"You too!" She darts over to him and squeezes him with her puffy arms, and then she and her father are gone.
Chapter note: The poem quoted is Sea Fever by John Masefield.
