Fic: The Cuckoo's Lullaby, 7/17
Jul. 13th, 2014 02:55 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 Seven on AO3
It's a brilliant day when they finally get outside, wintry and cold enough for Tristram to see his breath, but sunny. The sky is a bright, perfect blue and there are mountains everywhere! Tristram saw them yesterday, of course, but with the low-hanging clouds and the fog they seemed more like big rocks. Now he can see their tops, sharp and white, making the sky look even bluer and closer where they meet.
They walk to the train station, where Father buys Tristram a bar of chocolate that's shaped like a little mountain range, and then they get into a big yellow bus. Tristram doesn't ask where they're going, and his father doesn't tell him. He seems distracted, his gaze distant and unfocused, and he has that line between his eyes that he gets when he's thinking hard. Maybe they really are on a case, which is an exciting thought. Father's never taken Tristram along on an actual case before! Or at least, not intentionally, to Tristram's knowledge.
The only indication of their destination comes when Father points out the bus window at something glinting high up on the side of one of the mountains and tells him that's where they're going. It's a bit hard to make out at this distance, but it looks like some sort of castle or fortress, which seems interesting enough. Tristram assumes they're going to take a cable car like they did yesterday, but the bus drops them off at a regular train station. It seems to be a popular destination as there are people everywhere. Hikers, skiers, couples, families, school groups - Tristram gets a guilty twinge in his stomach at the reminder that he's actually supposed to be in school right now.
Tristram unpacks his chocolate bar once they're in the train. He puts two of the little triangles of chocolate in his mouth before he figures out there are bits in it. They seem crunchy at first, but they turn gummy as he chews and stick all over his teeth. He wraps the rest of the chocolate bar up and puts it back in his pocket. Maybe Emily will like it. He spends much of the rest of the trip up the mountain digging the caramel or nougat or whatever it is out of his molars.
As the train winds its way up the mountain - the zig-zags are called switchbacks, Father informs him - Tristram feels like they're once again crossing over into another world. The white of the snow literally sparkles, as if it's made of diamonds. In the distance, wisps of cloud curl around the peaks like one of Mrs Hudson's good silk scarves caught on a mammoth version of the chocolate in his pocket. Whereas yesterday's foggy, snow-covered mountaintop where they had the snowball fight and rode on toboggans was like a dream of fluff and clouds, this is a hard-focused, jagged place of magic and danger. The association is solidified in Tristram's mind when they come around one last curve and are confronted with a huge grey castle complete with silver turrets gleaming in the unfiltered sunlight. He half expects to see Quidditch rings rising from the field beside it, or robed figures floating over it on broomsticks.
The building, it turns out, is not a castle at all, magical or otherwise. It's a hotel, and the turrets are the domes of an astronomical observatory. Which is, admittedly, an odd thing for a hotel to have, but Father says it's because the conditions for astronomical observation are better here than down in the valley. The air is cleaner and thinner, the moisture content is lower, and there's less light pollution. Which still doesn't explain why they built the observatory on top of a hotel, but Tristram supposes perhaps it was just convenient that there was already a building here. There are certainly no other structures in sight.
Tristram asks if they can go see what's inside the silver hemispheres, but Father says they're only open at night, when it gets dark and the stars come out. That makes sense, even if it is a bit disappointing.
They wander up toward the hotel with the rest of the tourists, but rather than go into the building or take a seat at one of the tables set up outside, Father leads Tristram to the far end of the stone terrace, which ends abruptly in a steep drop. There's a thin railing for protection, but it would be all too easy to slip through the bars and end up on the rocky slope below.
Father hunches forward and puts his elbows on the railing overlooking the valley. Tristram stands next to him and does the same, only he has to lift his arms up to get them onto the railing. The position pulls at his cast and makes something rub uncomfortably against his skin. He lowers his arms again and braces his upper chest against the railing instead. There's a stiff breeze blowing, so Tristram hunches into his jacket and buries his chin in his scarf. The mountains on the other side across the valley look very small. Tristram imagines they're at least as big as the one they're on, though, and there are about a dozen in a panorama all the way around the horizon. And this is just one valley, one small part of a very small country. So small its name doesn't even fit inside it on the map that hangs on the wall in his classroom at school. Tristram begins to get an inkling of what the phrase 'the whole wide world' might mean.
"You asked me something the other night, about John," Father says into the wind. His eyes are narrowed, perhaps against the sunlight reflecting off all the whiteness around them. It's so bright that Tristram's eyes are watering at the corners. Many of the other people on the terrace are wearing sunglasses. Tristram didn't think to pack any. He never would have figured he'd need sunglasses in winter.
Tristram tries to remember what he asked his father about. He didn't talk to him last night at all because Father went out when Doctor Watson was putting them to bed. The night before, when Father stayed in the living room with him, Tristram asked about what they were doing here. Father suggested it might have something to do with a case. And then at the very end, Tristram recalls now, he asked whether Doctor Watson was Father's boyfriend. Father didn't give him an answer then.
"I dismissed the question," Father goes on, "partly because I didn't think it relevant, but more to the point, I didn't want to consider the answer." So, yes. It was the boyfriend question. Tristram squirms a bit. It's one thing to have the question slip out in the quiet, dark moments just before falling asleep, when his brain was already starting to wander down unfamiliar and possibly treacherous paths, but quite another to have the issue addressed head on in the glaring light of day. Even if this is a place half removed from reality.
"I've been on my own for so long," Father says quietly, almost as if he's speaking to himself. "My whole life, really."
"You haven't," Tristram can't help but point out. He doesn't want to contradict his father, but it seems a truly egregious oversight. "You've had me."
Father turns to him and tilts his head in acknowledgment. His eyes do that almost-smile thing that's just for Tristram. "Yes, I've had you. I didn't mean it that way. It's different. I was still on my own with you. Mrs Hudson was there to help, of course, but all the decisions, all the responsibilities." He looks out at the mountains again. "It was actually quite frightening. I sometimes wonder how you're alive today to tell the tale." He frowns a little at the last words.
"Uncle Mycroft helped," Tristram suggests.
"He helped a little," Father corrects him, giving him a stern look. "Much less than he'd like you to believe, I think."
There's a bitterness there that Tristram can't miss. He still wonders what ever happened to make his father dislike his uncle so.
"But the point is that something's happened that's made me think perhaps I don't want to be alone anymore." Father looks down at his hands where he has them crossed on the far side of the railing.
"Doctor Watson," Tristram guesses. Well, it's not really a guess.
Father nods. "Yes."
Tristram's heart is beating very fast. He knows he has to ask the next question. He also knows the answer already, but it's important. He's not sure why, but it's important that it be said. "So is he... like, your boyfriend?" He holds his breath.
Father exhales as if he were the one holding his breath; maybe he was. Tristram might be mistaken, but it sounds a little shaky. "Yes, I suppose he is." Father's mouth quirks up in an almost-smile. Like he thinks he's supposed to smile at this point, but doesn't quite feel it.
Tristram lets that thought settle for a moment. It's not really a shock. He's had a while to get used to the idea by now. Father has a boyfriend. It somehow doesn't want to fit into the image he has of his father, even though he knows it's undeniably true. It's not just that, though. It's as if his entire world is re-settling around him, as if everything is different now even though, looked at logically, nothing is. Unless...
"Are he and Emily going to live with us?" Tristram expresses his sudden suspicion. His voice sounds small. He feels small, and not just because of the enormous pieces of raw earth and rock crowding around them. He liked having Emily at their flat for the weekend, to visit, but sharing his room with her permanently is something else. It's not that big a room to start with. With the second bed in there, it's already pretty crowded. And she'll want to bring all of her things too. He thinks of her room at her aunts' house, filled with books and dolls and art supplies and games. Where will it all go?
"That's jumping the gun a bit," Father answers him. "It may end up not working out. I certainly have no idea what I'm doing. It's more likely I'll do something unforgivably stupid and it will be just the two of us again." Father looks down at Tristram with a wry twist to his mouth.
Tristram swallows past the queasy lump in his throat. His father really wants this. Possibly more than he wants an interesting murder. "I'll help you," he says, finding that he actually means it once the words are out. "If you want. Emily too. She wants you and Doctor Watson to get along. She says you make him happy."
"Does she?" Father seems genuinely surprised and touched, and that goes a long way toward smoothing out the unsettled feeling in Tristram's stomach.
Tristram nods. "I think... he makes you happy too."
"Yes. He does." Father smiles again, and this time it's for real. "Not that I was unhappy before. But he makes things... better."
Tristram thinks again of all the things he thought of that morning: playing and laughing and bedtime and all the rest. "Yeah," he agrees, and has to smile too.
They look out at the mountains again, and Tristram feels as if a great weight has been lifted from his heart. Father is happy, he's happy, they both have a special friend, and there's nothing here to spoil their holiday. Absolutely everything is right in the world.
And then Father speaks again. "You know the reason why it's always just been you and I," he says, looking down at his hands again.
"Because you didn't meet Doctor Watson yet?" Tristram guesses. He thought they were done talking about that stuff, but apparently not.
Father smiles, a little. "No, not that. I mean why you've grown up with only one parent."
"Because my mother left right after I was born," Tristram says matter-of-factly. Uncle Mycroft told him that a long time ago. Tristram hadn't even asked. He just said it while they sat next to each other on the piano bench one afternoon at his house. Uncle Mycroft was playing the Moonlight Sonata at the time, and he didn't even stop. Just kept calmly moving his fingers over the keys as he told Tristram about his mother deciding he was better off with his father and bowing out of the picture. Those were Uncle Mycroft's words: 'She bowed out of the picture.' Tristram always imagined a woman whose face he couldn't see standing on a stage and bowing at the waist as the spotlight went out.
"Yes, that's right," Father agrees. "Her name was Godfreya Norton." He says it slowly, now peering at the mountains. He sounds a little unsure about it, as if it's something he almost forgot.
This is the first time Tristram has ever heard her name. Uncle Mycroft neglected to mention it, for some reason, and Tristram was never actually curious enough to ask. Or perhaps she never needed a designation in his mental index other than 'my mother'. He doesn't think of Father as 'Sherlock Holmes' either. But Father's just said her name 'was' Godfreya Norton. He gets a funny feeling.
"Is she dead?" he asks. He'd always assumed she was alive somewhere - when he'd thought of her at all, which was rarely. He feels oddly stricken at the thought that she might be dead, which is stupid because it doesn't matter one whit.
But Father corrects the impression right away. "No," he says. "She's changed her name though. She goes by Irene now. Irene Adler. And she'd um..." Father pinches his eyes and lips together like he's got something sour in his mouth, which makes him look startlingly like Uncle Mycroft for a moment. Then his features smooth out again and he tells the mountains, "She wants to meet you."
Tristram's not sure what that means at first. It takes him a while to match up 'she' with 'Irene/Godfreya', and that in turn with 'mother'. His mother. His mother is alive and wants to meet him.
"In fact," Father continues, unaware of the effect his words have had on Tristram, "I believe she has already, after a fashion. John said she stopped by your table at breakfast this morning."
Tristram is still grappling with 'she wants to meet you'. Still processing that that means his mother is a real, three-dimensional person who exists outside of the dark, hunched-over figure labelled 'mother' winking out of the spotlight. But now he has an actual face and body to map onto that image: the woman in the beige-coloured dress. The one Doctor Watson grabbed and dragged away from their table. The one who stared and stared at Tristram.
"She said I had someone's eyes," Tristram recalls.
"Mine, no doubt," Father says.
Tristram sneaks a look at Father and catches him glancing sideways at Tristram. They both smile sheepishly but hold still long enough for a quick inspection. Tristram stares at his father's pale irises, nearly colourless in the bright winter light reflecting off the snow. Is that really what Tristram's eyes look like? Not just the colour, but the intensity. The way they observe and absorb everything. The way they see all of Tristram's actions and intentions. The way they seem to bore right into and through him sometimes, burrowing into his brain and his heart. Is that what the woman - his mother - meant? Did she see that in Tristram's eyes too? Or did she just mean his eyes are the same indeterminate, cloudy grey as Father's?
"Did she say anything else?" Father asks. It's not a casual question. Father doesn't do casual questions. It must be important. Tristram tries to remember.
"She knew all of our names," Tristram reports. That had puzzled him.
But Father dismisses it as unimportant. "Obviously she knows your name, and it wouldn't have been difficult to find out John and Emily's from the hotel records."
That makes sense. Still, there was something a bit ... off, for want of a better word, about the entire incident. It had certainly seemed like she and Doctor Watson knew each other somehow, but that can't be true if she had to get Doctor Watson's name from the hotel records.
"Does Doctor Watson know her?" Tristram asks.
"No. That is, he'd never seen her before but he realised who she was as soon as she showed up this morning."
Tristram frowns at that. How could Doctor Watson have known she was Tristram's mother? Tristram didn't even know.
Tristram's thoughts must show on his face, because Father sighs in a put-upon way and says, "I ran into her last night and told John when I came back. You were already asleep. This was..." He shakes his head and straightens up away from the railing so he can face Tristram. "I suppose I expected her to show up again at some point, but I wasn't prepared for it to be now, and here. It is, though, and we simply have to make the best of it."
"I don't think Doctor Watson likes her very much," Tristram ventures.
Father smirks. "No. Although that may simply be due to the fact that we're not sure what she wants. It could be that she just wants to satisfy her curiosity regarding what became of half of her chromosomes, and then she'll flit off to her next adventure."
Tristram hears the unspoken remainder of that thought quite clearly: or it could be something else. Something that makes even Father uneasy.
"Does she have something to do with a case?" Tristram asks quietly.
Father gives Tristram a long look. Like he's trying to figure out how much Tristram already knows. "I don't know," he finally answers slowly. "It may be. Which is why we are being careful. I want to be very clear on one thing, though," he says, his eyes taking on that deep, intense cast that mean the next statement is going to be very important: "You are in no danger whatsoever. Neither you, nor Emily, nor John. I may not know yet exactly what Irene hopes to gain here, but she doesn't pose any threat." His expression changes from insistent to playful. "Now come on, why don't we see if we can find a way up into the observatory?" Father grins in a way that tells Tristram they aren't actually supposed to be going up there. Tristram gets a little thrill at the thought.
He grins and follows his father toward the building. He doesn't fail to notice, however, that Father left one person out of his enumeration of who wasn't in danger: himself.
"That was so cool!" Emily practically falls through the door, banging it open in her enthusiasm.
Tristram looks up from the table, where he's practising left-handed writing in one of the notebooks he brought along. He can almost get his name to look the way it does when he writes it with his right hand. Well, used to write it. The tilt is still a little off though.
Emily's grinning from ear to bright red ear and her hair is what Mrs Hudson would call 'a bird's nest'. "I went down a black diamond all by myself and I only fell five times!" she announces.
Behind her, her father comes in, unzipping his coat and chuckling at her.
"- the last time, I did!" she insists. She flings herself onto her back on the couch bed. Tristram can smell the cold air from where he's sitting.
"She was a holy terror," Doctor Watson announces, mostly to Father, who's leaning in the doorway to the bedroom with his arms crossed. He's been in there doing... something - Tristram's not sure what - since they got back about an hour ago.
"I'm pretty sure I saw her life flash in front of my eyes at least twice," Doctor Watson says, but he sounds amused. He drops his coat over the back of one of the chairs and goes over to Father. "Hey," he says more softly and touches Father's elbow. "How'd it go?" Doctor Watson looks over at Tristram when he asks, but Tristram's not sure the question's meant for him.
Anyway, Father answers it. "Fine," he says. He has kind of a half-frown on his face, though, which intrigues Tristram because as far as he could tell, the meeting with his mother did go fine.
She showed up at the hotel restaurant, looking very fancy in a big fur coat, and they had lunch. She wanted to hear all about Tristram's school and what he liked to do and the places he liked to visit, and in return she told Tristram and Father all the places she'd been in the past eight years. There were a lot. She said that's why she had to leave Tristram with Father, because you couldn't drag a baby to places like Singapore and Dubai and New York. That certainly makes sense, even if Tristram hasn't been a baby for a very long time now. She never explained why she couldn't stay in London with him and Father. Tristram didn't ask.
Father drops his arms and goes into the bedroom without saying anything more. Doctor Watson follows him.
Emily twists her head so she can look toward the bedroom. The door's still open enough that they can hear their fathers' voices but they're too low to make out the words. Emily struggles up onto her elbows and turns back toward Tristram.
"Hey," she says suddenly, her eyes wide. Her voice is a hoarse whisper, as if she doesn't want their fathers to hear her. "My dad said that lady we saw at breakfast was actually your mother!"
Tristram nods. "That's where we went today. We had lunch with her at another hotel up in the mountains."
"So, really... she's your mum? Like, really your mum?" Her eyes are open so far Tristram can see the whites all around.
Tristram decides not to point out she's just asked the same question twice, instead answering simply, "Yeah."
Emily scoots forward on the bed, as if by coming closer she'll be able to understand Tristram better. "Is she going to come live with you?"
"I don't think so. She's a singer. She travels all over."
"Is that where she's been the whole time?"
Tristram fingers the edge of his cast with his good hand. It feels rough. He's supposed to be doing some stretching exercises for his hand. He hasn't been. "I guess," he mumbles. "Yeah."
"Are she and your dad still married?"
Tristram was told they weren't, but he realises he doesn't actually know. It seems like there's been a lot going on recently that he hasn't been told about. On the other hand, it also seems kind of ridiculous that his father and Irene would have been married all this time yet never lived together - never so much as been in the same country, actually, since Tristram was born, if Irene was telling the truth about her travels.
"I don't know," he mutters uncomfortably. Because if Irene and his father are married, what does that mean for Doctor Watson?
Emily seems to be thinking along the same lines. "Well if they are, they have to get divorced now," she says, as if the whole thing is settled.
The thought gives Tristram some relief. He knows he's not supposed to feel that way. At his last school, his teacher read the class a book about a girl whose parents got divorced. It was full of statements about how she needn't feel bad about it, and how much her parents loved her, and all the fun things she got like special outings just with her dad and two bedrooms of her very own. With all those reassurances, it was pretty obvious that everyone expected her to be sad about her parents moving into separate flats. Tristram won't be sad at all if his mother and father get divorced (if they're married). Even without two bedrooms. It will be more like putting things back the way they were. The way they are, actually. But maybe Emily does have a point.
"Maybe that's why she came back..." he says, half to himself. Tristram's not sure if there's a special divorce ceremony that both people have to attend, like a wedding in reverse. He imagines Irene walking backwards up a church aisle, the white dress she had on at breakfast turning black as she goes, until she fades into the shadows. Bowing out of the picture once again.
(Tristram is supposed to call his mother 'Irene', he learned at lunch.
'Hello,' he'd said politely, 'it's nice to meet you, Mother,' and held out his hand just the way Uncle Mycroft taught him. Even though it wasn't actually nice to meet her. More like incredibly weird. Like he imagines Harry Potter felt when he found out his parents were a witch and a wizard. Irene isn't a witch, though. As far as Tristram knows.
Anyway, his mother made a face that looked like she wasn't sure whether to be insulted or amused - Uncle Mycroft's assistant is good at those faces too - and said, 'Oh darling, that makes me sound like I should be wearing a bouclé suit and hosting five o'clock tea. Call me Irene.'
So he did.)
"What's why she came back?" Emily asks, not having understood Tristram's previous statement.
"I don't know," Tristram repeats, suddenly frustrated with the whole topic. He doesn't want to talk about Irene or divorce or why any of them are here. He scowls down at his notebook and scrapes his pen against the paper so hard it rips the page.
Chapter note: The bar of chocolate shaped like a mountain range is Toblerone, a Swiss brand. They really do have annoying sticky bits in them. Here's a picture if you're not familiar:
The hotel with the observatory is the Gornergrat Kulm. Here is the approach with the train:
And here is a closer view of the hotel with one of the observatory domes:
The observatory is called the Stellarium. You can see more pictures on their Facebook page.
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 Seven on AO3
Chapter Seven
It's a brilliant day when they finally get outside, wintry and cold enough for Tristram to see his breath, but sunny. The sky is a bright, perfect blue and there are mountains everywhere! Tristram saw them yesterday, of course, but with the low-hanging clouds and the fog they seemed more like big rocks. Now he can see their tops, sharp and white, making the sky look even bluer and closer where they meet.
They walk to the train station, where Father buys Tristram a bar of chocolate that's shaped like a little mountain range, and then they get into a big yellow bus. Tristram doesn't ask where they're going, and his father doesn't tell him. He seems distracted, his gaze distant and unfocused, and he has that line between his eyes that he gets when he's thinking hard. Maybe they really are on a case, which is an exciting thought. Father's never taken Tristram along on an actual case before! Or at least, not intentionally, to Tristram's knowledge.
The only indication of their destination comes when Father points out the bus window at something glinting high up on the side of one of the mountains and tells him that's where they're going. It's a bit hard to make out at this distance, but it looks like some sort of castle or fortress, which seems interesting enough. Tristram assumes they're going to take a cable car like they did yesterday, but the bus drops them off at a regular train station. It seems to be a popular destination as there are people everywhere. Hikers, skiers, couples, families, school groups - Tristram gets a guilty twinge in his stomach at the reminder that he's actually supposed to be in school right now.
Tristram unpacks his chocolate bar once they're in the train. He puts two of the little triangles of chocolate in his mouth before he figures out there are bits in it. They seem crunchy at first, but they turn gummy as he chews and stick all over his teeth. He wraps the rest of the chocolate bar up and puts it back in his pocket. Maybe Emily will like it. He spends much of the rest of the trip up the mountain digging the caramel or nougat or whatever it is out of his molars.
As the train winds its way up the mountain - the zig-zags are called switchbacks, Father informs him - Tristram feels like they're once again crossing over into another world. The white of the snow literally sparkles, as if it's made of diamonds. In the distance, wisps of cloud curl around the peaks like one of Mrs Hudson's good silk scarves caught on a mammoth version of the chocolate in his pocket. Whereas yesterday's foggy, snow-covered mountaintop where they had the snowball fight and rode on toboggans was like a dream of fluff and clouds, this is a hard-focused, jagged place of magic and danger. The association is solidified in Tristram's mind when they come around one last curve and are confronted with a huge grey castle complete with silver turrets gleaming in the unfiltered sunlight. He half expects to see Quidditch rings rising from the field beside it, or robed figures floating over it on broomsticks.
The building, it turns out, is not a castle at all, magical or otherwise. It's a hotel, and the turrets are the domes of an astronomical observatory. Which is, admittedly, an odd thing for a hotel to have, but Father says it's because the conditions for astronomical observation are better here than down in the valley. The air is cleaner and thinner, the moisture content is lower, and there's less light pollution. Which still doesn't explain why they built the observatory on top of a hotel, but Tristram supposes perhaps it was just convenient that there was already a building here. There are certainly no other structures in sight.
Tristram asks if they can go see what's inside the silver hemispheres, but Father says they're only open at night, when it gets dark and the stars come out. That makes sense, even if it is a bit disappointing.
They wander up toward the hotel with the rest of the tourists, but rather than go into the building or take a seat at one of the tables set up outside, Father leads Tristram to the far end of the stone terrace, which ends abruptly in a steep drop. There's a thin railing for protection, but it would be all too easy to slip through the bars and end up on the rocky slope below.
Father hunches forward and puts his elbows on the railing overlooking the valley. Tristram stands next to him and does the same, only he has to lift his arms up to get them onto the railing. The position pulls at his cast and makes something rub uncomfortably against his skin. He lowers his arms again and braces his upper chest against the railing instead. There's a stiff breeze blowing, so Tristram hunches into his jacket and buries his chin in his scarf. The mountains on the other side across the valley look very small. Tristram imagines they're at least as big as the one they're on, though, and there are about a dozen in a panorama all the way around the horizon. And this is just one valley, one small part of a very small country. So small its name doesn't even fit inside it on the map that hangs on the wall in his classroom at school. Tristram begins to get an inkling of what the phrase 'the whole wide world' might mean.
"You asked me something the other night, about John," Father says into the wind. His eyes are narrowed, perhaps against the sunlight reflecting off all the whiteness around them. It's so bright that Tristram's eyes are watering at the corners. Many of the other people on the terrace are wearing sunglasses. Tristram didn't think to pack any. He never would have figured he'd need sunglasses in winter.
Tristram tries to remember what he asked his father about. He didn't talk to him last night at all because Father went out when Doctor Watson was putting them to bed. The night before, when Father stayed in the living room with him, Tristram asked about what they were doing here. Father suggested it might have something to do with a case. And then at the very end, Tristram recalls now, he asked whether Doctor Watson was Father's boyfriend. Father didn't give him an answer then.
"I dismissed the question," Father goes on, "partly because I didn't think it relevant, but more to the point, I didn't want to consider the answer." So, yes. It was the boyfriend question. Tristram squirms a bit. It's one thing to have the question slip out in the quiet, dark moments just before falling asleep, when his brain was already starting to wander down unfamiliar and possibly treacherous paths, but quite another to have the issue addressed head on in the glaring light of day. Even if this is a place half removed from reality.
"I've been on my own for so long," Father says quietly, almost as if he's speaking to himself. "My whole life, really."
"You haven't," Tristram can't help but point out. He doesn't want to contradict his father, but it seems a truly egregious oversight. "You've had me."
Father turns to him and tilts his head in acknowledgment. His eyes do that almost-smile thing that's just for Tristram. "Yes, I've had you. I didn't mean it that way. It's different. I was still on my own with you. Mrs Hudson was there to help, of course, but all the decisions, all the responsibilities." He looks out at the mountains again. "It was actually quite frightening. I sometimes wonder how you're alive today to tell the tale." He frowns a little at the last words.
"Uncle Mycroft helped," Tristram suggests.
"He helped a little," Father corrects him, giving him a stern look. "Much less than he'd like you to believe, I think."
There's a bitterness there that Tristram can't miss. He still wonders what ever happened to make his father dislike his uncle so.
"But the point is that something's happened that's made me think perhaps I don't want to be alone anymore." Father looks down at his hands where he has them crossed on the far side of the railing.
"Doctor Watson," Tristram guesses. Well, it's not really a guess.
Father nods. "Yes."
Tristram's heart is beating very fast. He knows he has to ask the next question. He also knows the answer already, but it's important. He's not sure why, but it's important that it be said. "So is he... like, your boyfriend?" He holds his breath.
Father exhales as if he were the one holding his breath; maybe he was. Tristram might be mistaken, but it sounds a little shaky. "Yes, I suppose he is." Father's mouth quirks up in an almost-smile. Like he thinks he's supposed to smile at this point, but doesn't quite feel it.
Tristram lets that thought settle for a moment. It's not really a shock. He's had a while to get used to the idea by now. Father has a boyfriend. It somehow doesn't want to fit into the image he has of his father, even though he knows it's undeniably true. It's not just that, though. It's as if his entire world is re-settling around him, as if everything is different now even though, looked at logically, nothing is. Unless...
"Are he and Emily going to live with us?" Tristram expresses his sudden suspicion. His voice sounds small. He feels small, and not just because of the enormous pieces of raw earth and rock crowding around them. He liked having Emily at their flat for the weekend, to visit, but sharing his room with her permanently is something else. It's not that big a room to start with. With the second bed in there, it's already pretty crowded. And she'll want to bring all of her things too. He thinks of her room at her aunts' house, filled with books and dolls and art supplies and games. Where will it all go?
"That's jumping the gun a bit," Father answers him. "It may end up not working out. I certainly have no idea what I'm doing. It's more likely I'll do something unforgivably stupid and it will be just the two of us again." Father looks down at Tristram with a wry twist to his mouth.
Tristram swallows past the queasy lump in his throat. His father really wants this. Possibly more than he wants an interesting murder. "I'll help you," he says, finding that he actually means it once the words are out. "If you want. Emily too. She wants you and Doctor Watson to get along. She says you make him happy."
"Does she?" Father seems genuinely surprised and touched, and that goes a long way toward smoothing out the unsettled feeling in Tristram's stomach.
Tristram nods. "I think... he makes you happy too."
"Yes. He does." Father smiles again, and this time it's for real. "Not that I was unhappy before. But he makes things... better."
Tristram thinks again of all the things he thought of that morning: playing and laughing and bedtime and all the rest. "Yeah," he agrees, and has to smile too.
They look out at the mountains again, and Tristram feels as if a great weight has been lifted from his heart. Father is happy, he's happy, they both have a special friend, and there's nothing here to spoil their holiday. Absolutely everything is right in the world.
And then Father speaks again. "You know the reason why it's always just been you and I," he says, looking down at his hands again.
"Because you didn't meet Doctor Watson yet?" Tristram guesses. He thought they were done talking about that stuff, but apparently not.
Father smiles, a little. "No, not that. I mean why you've grown up with only one parent."
"Because my mother left right after I was born," Tristram says matter-of-factly. Uncle Mycroft told him that a long time ago. Tristram hadn't even asked. He just said it while they sat next to each other on the piano bench one afternoon at his house. Uncle Mycroft was playing the Moonlight Sonata at the time, and he didn't even stop. Just kept calmly moving his fingers over the keys as he told Tristram about his mother deciding he was better off with his father and bowing out of the picture. Those were Uncle Mycroft's words: 'She bowed out of the picture.' Tristram always imagined a woman whose face he couldn't see standing on a stage and bowing at the waist as the spotlight went out.
"Yes, that's right," Father agrees. "Her name was Godfreya Norton." He says it slowly, now peering at the mountains. He sounds a little unsure about it, as if it's something he almost forgot.
This is the first time Tristram has ever heard her name. Uncle Mycroft neglected to mention it, for some reason, and Tristram was never actually curious enough to ask. Or perhaps she never needed a designation in his mental index other than 'my mother'. He doesn't think of Father as 'Sherlock Holmes' either. But Father's just said her name 'was' Godfreya Norton. He gets a funny feeling.
"Is she dead?" he asks. He'd always assumed she was alive somewhere - when he'd thought of her at all, which was rarely. He feels oddly stricken at the thought that she might be dead, which is stupid because it doesn't matter one whit.
But Father corrects the impression right away. "No," he says. "She's changed her name though. She goes by Irene now. Irene Adler. And she'd um..." Father pinches his eyes and lips together like he's got something sour in his mouth, which makes him look startlingly like Uncle Mycroft for a moment. Then his features smooth out again and he tells the mountains, "She wants to meet you."
Tristram's not sure what that means at first. It takes him a while to match up 'she' with 'Irene/Godfreya', and that in turn with 'mother'. His mother. His mother is alive and wants to meet him.
"In fact," Father continues, unaware of the effect his words have had on Tristram, "I believe she has already, after a fashion. John said she stopped by your table at breakfast this morning."
Tristram is still grappling with 'she wants to meet you'. Still processing that that means his mother is a real, three-dimensional person who exists outside of the dark, hunched-over figure labelled 'mother' winking out of the spotlight. But now he has an actual face and body to map onto that image: the woman in the beige-coloured dress. The one Doctor Watson grabbed and dragged away from their table. The one who stared and stared at Tristram.
"She said I had someone's eyes," Tristram recalls.
"Mine, no doubt," Father says.
Tristram sneaks a look at Father and catches him glancing sideways at Tristram. They both smile sheepishly but hold still long enough for a quick inspection. Tristram stares at his father's pale irises, nearly colourless in the bright winter light reflecting off the snow. Is that really what Tristram's eyes look like? Not just the colour, but the intensity. The way they observe and absorb everything. The way they see all of Tristram's actions and intentions. The way they seem to bore right into and through him sometimes, burrowing into his brain and his heart. Is that what the woman - his mother - meant? Did she see that in Tristram's eyes too? Or did she just mean his eyes are the same indeterminate, cloudy grey as Father's?
"Did she say anything else?" Father asks. It's not a casual question. Father doesn't do casual questions. It must be important. Tristram tries to remember.
"She knew all of our names," Tristram reports. That had puzzled him.
But Father dismisses it as unimportant. "Obviously she knows your name, and it wouldn't have been difficult to find out John and Emily's from the hotel records."
That makes sense. Still, there was something a bit ... off, for want of a better word, about the entire incident. It had certainly seemed like she and Doctor Watson knew each other somehow, but that can't be true if she had to get Doctor Watson's name from the hotel records.
"Does Doctor Watson know her?" Tristram asks.
"No. That is, he'd never seen her before but he realised who she was as soon as she showed up this morning."
Tristram frowns at that. How could Doctor Watson have known she was Tristram's mother? Tristram didn't even know.
Tristram's thoughts must show on his face, because Father sighs in a put-upon way and says, "I ran into her last night and told John when I came back. You were already asleep. This was..." He shakes his head and straightens up away from the railing so he can face Tristram. "I suppose I expected her to show up again at some point, but I wasn't prepared for it to be now, and here. It is, though, and we simply have to make the best of it."
"I don't think Doctor Watson likes her very much," Tristram ventures.
Father smirks. "No. Although that may simply be due to the fact that we're not sure what she wants. It could be that she just wants to satisfy her curiosity regarding what became of half of her chromosomes, and then she'll flit off to her next adventure."
Tristram hears the unspoken remainder of that thought quite clearly: or it could be something else. Something that makes even Father uneasy.
"Does she have something to do with a case?" Tristram asks quietly.
Father gives Tristram a long look. Like he's trying to figure out how much Tristram already knows. "I don't know," he finally answers slowly. "It may be. Which is why we are being careful. I want to be very clear on one thing, though," he says, his eyes taking on that deep, intense cast that mean the next statement is going to be very important: "You are in no danger whatsoever. Neither you, nor Emily, nor John. I may not know yet exactly what Irene hopes to gain here, but she doesn't pose any threat." His expression changes from insistent to playful. "Now come on, why don't we see if we can find a way up into the observatory?" Father grins in a way that tells Tristram they aren't actually supposed to be going up there. Tristram gets a little thrill at the thought.
He grins and follows his father toward the building. He doesn't fail to notice, however, that Father left one person out of his enumeration of who wasn't in danger: himself.
&&&&&&
"That was so cool!" Emily practically falls through the door, banging it open in her enthusiasm.
Tristram looks up from the table, where he's practising left-handed writing in one of the notebooks he brought along. He can almost get his name to look the way it does when he writes it with his right hand. Well, used to write it. The tilt is still a little off though.
Emily's grinning from ear to bright red ear and her hair is what Mrs Hudson would call 'a bird's nest'. "I went down a black diamond all by myself and I only fell five times!" she announces.
Behind her, her father comes in, unzipping his coat and chuckling at her.
"- the last time, I did!" she insists. She flings herself onto her back on the couch bed. Tristram can smell the cold air from where he's sitting.
"She was a holy terror," Doctor Watson announces, mostly to Father, who's leaning in the doorway to the bedroom with his arms crossed. He's been in there doing... something - Tristram's not sure what - since they got back about an hour ago.
"I'm pretty sure I saw her life flash in front of my eyes at least twice," Doctor Watson says, but he sounds amused. He drops his coat over the back of one of the chairs and goes over to Father. "Hey," he says more softly and touches Father's elbow. "How'd it go?" Doctor Watson looks over at Tristram when he asks, but Tristram's not sure the question's meant for him.
Anyway, Father answers it. "Fine," he says. He has kind of a half-frown on his face, though, which intrigues Tristram because as far as he could tell, the meeting with his mother did go fine.
She showed up at the hotel restaurant, looking very fancy in a big fur coat, and they had lunch. She wanted to hear all about Tristram's school and what he liked to do and the places he liked to visit, and in return she told Tristram and Father all the places she'd been in the past eight years. There were a lot. She said that's why she had to leave Tristram with Father, because you couldn't drag a baby to places like Singapore and Dubai and New York. That certainly makes sense, even if Tristram hasn't been a baby for a very long time now. She never explained why she couldn't stay in London with him and Father. Tristram didn't ask.
Father drops his arms and goes into the bedroom without saying anything more. Doctor Watson follows him.
Emily twists her head so she can look toward the bedroom. The door's still open enough that they can hear their fathers' voices but they're too low to make out the words. Emily struggles up onto her elbows and turns back toward Tristram.
"Hey," she says suddenly, her eyes wide. Her voice is a hoarse whisper, as if she doesn't want their fathers to hear her. "My dad said that lady we saw at breakfast was actually your mother!"
Tristram nods. "That's where we went today. We had lunch with her at another hotel up in the mountains."
"So, really... she's your mum? Like, really your mum?" Her eyes are open so far Tristram can see the whites all around.
Tristram decides not to point out she's just asked the same question twice, instead answering simply, "Yeah."
Emily scoots forward on the bed, as if by coming closer she'll be able to understand Tristram better. "Is she going to come live with you?"
"I don't think so. She's a singer. She travels all over."
"Is that where she's been the whole time?"
Tristram fingers the edge of his cast with his good hand. It feels rough. He's supposed to be doing some stretching exercises for his hand. He hasn't been. "I guess," he mumbles. "Yeah."
"Are she and your dad still married?"
Tristram was told they weren't, but he realises he doesn't actually know. It seems like there's been a lot going on recently that he hasn't been told about. On the other hand, it also seems kind of ridiculous that his father and Irene would have been married all this time yet never lived together - never so much as been in the same country, actually, since Tristram was born, if Irene was telling the truth about her travels.
"I don't know," he mutters uncomfortably. Because if Irene and his father are married, what does that mean for Doctor Watson?
Emily seems to be thinking along the same lines. "Well if they are, they have to get divorced now," she says, as if the whole thing is settled.
The thought gives Tristram some relief. He knows he's not supposed to feel that way. At his last school, his teacher read the class a book about a girl whose parents got divorced. It was full of statements about how she needn't feel bad about it, and how much her parents loved her, and all the fun things she got like special outings just with her dad and two bedrooms of her very own. With all those reassurances, it was pretty obvious that everyone expected her to be sad about her parents moving into separate flats. Tristram won't be sad at all if his mother and father get divorced (if they're married). Even without two bedrooms. It will be more like putting things back the way they were. The way they are, actually. But maybe Emily does have a point.
"Maybe that's why she came back..." he says, half to himself. Tristram's not sure if there's a special divorce ceremony that both people have to attend, like a wedding in reverse. He imagines Irene walking backwards up a church aisle, the white dress she had on at breakfast turning black as she goes, until she fades into the shadows. Bowing out of the picture once again.
(Tristram is supposed to call his mother 'Irene', he learned at lunch.
'Hello,' he'd said politely, 'it's nice to meet you, Mother,' and held out his hand just the way Uncle Mycroft taught him. Even though it wasn't actually nice to meet her. More like incredibly weird. Like he imagines Harry Potter felt when he found out his parents were a witch and a wizard. Irene isn't a witch, though. As far as Tristram knows.
Anyway, his mother made a face that looked like she wasn't sure whether to be insulted or amused - Uncle Mycroft's assistant is good at those faces too - and said, 'Oh darling, that makes me sound like I should be wearing a bouclé suit and hosting five o'clock tea. Call me Irene.'
So he did.)
"What's why she came back?" Emily asks, not having understood Tristram's previous statement.
"I don't know," Tristram repeats, suddenly frustrated with the whole topic. He doesn't want to talk about Irene or divorce or why any of them are here. He scowls down at his notebook and scrapes his pen against the paper so hard it rips the page.
Chapter note: The bar of chocolate shaped like a mountain range is Toblerone, a Swiss brand. They really do have annoying sticky bits in them. Here's a picture if you're not familiar:
The hotel with the observatory is the Gornergrat Kulm. Here is the approach with the train:
And here is a closer view of the hotel with one of the observatory domes:
The observatory is called the Stellarium. You can see more pictures on their Facebook page.
