SwissMiss' Creativity Outlet

Title: Cracks in the In-Between Places
Author: swissmarg
Beta readers: ruth0007, billiethepoet
Rating: PG-13
Relationship: John/Sherlock
Word count: ca. 93,500 when complete, this chapter 4,195 words
Summary: AU set in the universe of nox_candida's Getting Better. John and Sherlock work together to flush out Mary's killers, and Tristram has to come to terms with what his father's new friend means for him. No series 3 spoilers (or series 1 or 2, for that matter).

See chapter one for the complete header with warnings, acknowledgments, disclaimers, and notes.

Chapter 12 on AO3



Chapter Twelve

They leave Uncle Mycroft's car at Llanbroc and drive back to London in an old, blue compact. It smells like something's burning the whole way, and Father's knees are actually pressed up against the dash, even with the front seat pushed back as far as it will go. Doctor Watson laughs, and Tristram and Emily giggle too.

Emily's happy to be going back, and Tristram's mood lifts too, the closer they get. It's almost as if the weekend didn't happen. Maybe whatever they had to go to Llanbroc for is done with. Including whatever went on between Father and Doctor Watson. They haven't touched at all this morning - Tristram's been watching closely - and when they speak to each other, it's just for practical things. Doctor Watson hasn't said Father's amazing or brilliant all morning. On the other hand, Father said Tristram should wait for permission before opening doors from now on. So he's not sure.

Tristram also isn't sure which way he'd rather have it now. It's not just the kissing, but everything else too: laughing and talking and going out on cases (or dates). All things Tristram can't provide. Things that have revealed a whole new side of his father, one that he had no idea could even exist. He doesn't want his father to be unhappy. He knows it's wrong of him to think it, but it was easier before.

When they get off the motorway, they take the exit closest to the part of the city where the Watsons' house is. Tristram is curious what will happen when Doctor Watson gets out of the car, because then Father will have to drive the rest of the way back to Baker Street. Tristram has never been in a car driven by his father before. He expects it will be rather exciting.

But when they get to Emily's street, Doctor Watson double-parks and says, "Won't be long." He takes Emily with him and they go into Emily's aunts' house. Father continues to sit on the passenger side, engrossed in his phone.

Tristram leans forward. "What are we doing?"

"Waiting," Father replies, succinctly, without looking up.

"Aren't we going home?"

"Eventually. Surely you don't think they can continue wearing the same clothes all weekend," Father murmurs. His phone is buzzing non-stop, it seems like, with a flood of messages.

Tristram sits back again. Are they going back to Llanbroc? Have they just come to London for supplies? Tristram has to pee, to be honest. They didn't stop at all on the way here. It's true that Doctor Watson did ask a couple of times if anyone needed to stop, but everyone was so eager to get back that they told him to keep driving.

The more he thinks about it, the more he has to go. He's about to ask if he can go into the house and use the Watsons' toilet when Emily and her father come back. Doctor Watson has a big green duffle bag over his shoulder, and Emily has a backpack and a smaller bag in her hand.

"We get to go to your house!" Emily informs Tristram excitedly when she gets back into the car.

"What for?" he asks stupidly. To play? But then why would they need all that luggage? Or does she mean they're just going to stop at Tristram's house too for him to get his things before they all go back to Llanbroc? Or somewhere else?

"For the rest of the weekend, maybe a couple more days," Emily says. "Isn't that cool?"

"It'll be like a bivouac." Doctor Watson grins over his shoulder as he buckles up and turns the engine on again.

"We can build a tent in your room and pretend we're in the army," Emily suggests. "I brought my compass and army kit. We can go on recon missions."

That actually does sound like fun. However, he is suspicious of the reason for it. Why would both Emily and her father need to stay at their flat? He'd almost think it's a ploy for Father and Doctor Watson to share a bed some more, but they still aren't saying more than necessary to each other, and when they get to their flat, Father brings out some bedding and drops it on the couch for Emily's father. Tristram is a little relieved about that, but it makes him wonder even more what the purpose of the visit is.

Father then proceeds to thump around in his room for a bit while Tristram and Emily go upstairs and help Doctor Watson drag a field bed down from the crawlspace. It's rather battered and smells like damp, but Doctor Watson is quite taken with it, pronouncing it a genuine relic from the war. Tristram knows he means World War Two, even though there have been lots of other wars since. It's funny how people talk about that one as if it were the only one, or at least the only one that counted, even though there's hardly anyone left who was alive then. Even Mrs Hudson wasn't born yet. Grandmother was, but she says mostly what she remembers is afterwards, when they could finally, finally have all the sweets they wanted.

They set the bed up in Tristram's room, and then Doctor Watson goes back downstairs. Emily, on the other hand, is immediately fascinated by his collection of small animal skulls and bones. He gets most of them from owl pellets passed on to him by a man at the London Zoo whom his father must have helped out once. Once, he got an entire iguana that had died of natural causes, but Tristram made a mess of taking it apart and felt sorry afterwards and asked only to be given things that were already skeletal from then on.

Tristram gives Emily a pair of tweezers, a dental pick, and the jar of owl pellets he hasn't had a chance to pull apart yet. He coaches her through opening up the first one and shares in her excitement at the tiny bone fragments she teases out of the tight, felt-like clump.

"Your house is so cool," she comments as she arranges the bits of skeleton on the newspaper they've laid out on Tristram's desk, trying to see how they might fit together.

Tristram's not sure what to say to that, so he shrugs. "It's okay." It's true he's rarely, if ever, bored, a complaint many of their schoolmates often voice.

"Your grandmother's too. Do you think we can go again? We left so fast. You should have come to get me this morning."

"I thought you were still asleep."

"I was," she says. "But you could have woken me up. I would have liked to see the stable one more time."

"There were mice," he offers.

Her face lights up and she looks up from the pellet. "Really?"

He nods. "A mother and three babies. I fed them cake," he adds proudly, then remembers his promise not to tell about seeing the bodyguard. Surely Emily doesn't count, though. She can't get the man in trouble. Still, better not to mention it. It's not like it matters.

Emily's face falls into a pout. "Aw, now I really want to see. They'd better still be there next time. Maybe we can go next weekend." She returns to poking at the pellet.

"Maybe," Tristram says. "I think my father finished whatever he needed to go there for, though."

Emily's sits up straight, her eyes big. "Did he catch the bogeyman?"

Tristram bites his lip. "I don't know. I don't know that's what we went for," he points out. "I was just guessing. Maybe it was something else." Something else altogether. The guilt flares up again about keeping the kissing a secret, only now it's an even bigger secret. Not just kissing, but lying on top of each other on the bed without their shirts.

"What?" Emily prompts him.

Tristram shakes his head. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to revisit the kiss on the beach or the kiss-and-more in the bedroom. "I don't know," is all he can say.

Emily isn't satisfied, but goes back to working on picking more bones out of the pellet. Tristram wants to ask her more. He wants to know if her father told her why they're staying at Tristram's flat. He wants to know if her father told her about the kisses. On the whole, he thinks not, because it's exactly the kind of thing she'd want to talk about with Tristram. Unless her father told her to keep it secret for some reason.

"Where did your father sleep last night?" he asks, when he can't hold it in any longer. It's an innocent enough question. Sort of.

Emily frowns. "In bed; what do you mean?"

"Nothing," Tristram says, thinking quickly to come up with a reason for asking that isn't the real reason. "I was just wondering if he kept you up snoring."

Her face clears. "Well, not all night. A bit. But I don't mind." She grins. "I just push him until he rolls over, then he stops."

Tristram nods and smiles too. At least that bit's clear then.

When she's satisfied she's found all the bones in the pellet, Emily announces she's hungry. Tristram realises he is, too; he hasn't had anything since the chocolate milk that morning. It seems ages ago now. They go downstairs to see if there's any chance of lunch being had.

"Where's my dad?" is the first thing Emily asks when they see Tristram's father sitting in front of his computer at his desk but no sign of Doctor Watson.

"Shopping," he answers absently.

"When's he coming back?"

"When he's completed his purchases, no doubt."

"I could make us some toast," Tristram offers Emily, seeing that the conversation isn't going to bring satisfaction to either side.

"No bread," his father mentions. He glances at Emily and Tristram, then sighs and takes out his phone. He types something quickly, then sets it down while he continues scrolling through something on his laptop.

Tristram goes into the kitchen anyway to see if there's anything edible. He can tell Emily's edgy about her father.

About thirty seconds later, Father's phone pings. He checks it and announces, "Ten minutes," then returns his focus to his own task.

"What in the world are you eating?" Doctor Watson asks when he returns a short while later with two plastic bags full of shopping. He sets the bags down on the counter in the kitchen and peers at the goop on Tristram and Emily's plates.

"Beans with jam," Emily tells him happily.

Doctor Watson makes a face. It's quite good, actually. They warmed it up in the microwave, which made the jam go all melty. That was Emily's idea.

"Sherlock," Doctor Watson calls into the living room, "what are you doing letting them eat this? You knew I was going out to get food."

Tristram wonders why he's asking Father, since Tristram was the one who made the food. Tristram also knew Doctor Watson went out to do the shopping. He was hungry, though, and didn't want to wait. He's used to fixing food for himself. Father didn't even register what they were doing. Just like now: he's effectively ignoring what's going on in the kitchen.

"Busy," Father mumbles.

Doctor Watson goes into the living room. "And here's your key, by the way." He sets a key down on the desk next to Father.

That gets his attention. Father blinks down at the key, then shoves it back in Doctor Watson's direction. "Keep it."

When Doctor Watson doesn't take it right away, Father looks up at him. They stare at each other for a few seconds. Tristram stops with a forkful of beans halfway to his mouth and watches them. Finally, Doctor Watson slowly slides the key off the desk into his hand.

"Just for the weekend," he says. It sounds like a warning.

"Yes, fine," Father says and returns to his project. He says it in the way that means he knows he's won. Tristram wonders whether Doctor Watson knows that yet.

Tristram glances at Emily. She's wiping her finger through the last of the jammy bean sauce on her plate and doesn't seem to have noticed anything.


&&&&&&

Doctor Watson knocks on the door frame. "Hey, Tris. Mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

Tristram shrugs and scoots back on his bed. He's already in his pyjamas. Emily's in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Doctor Watson comes in and sits down on the opposite side.

"It's really very nice of you to let Emily stay up here with you. I know we didn't exactly ask."

Tristram shrugs again. It's not like anyone's ever asked his opinion before about things that happen to him. And really, he doesn't mind Emily being here. In fact, he likes it. It's proof that she's his friend. "I don't mind," he says.

"Because we can put the field bed down in the living room," Doctor Watson offers. "It's not a problem."

"No, it's fine." Truth be told, if Doctor Watson and Emily are going to be here anyway, Tristram would rather have someone up here with him, rather than everyone else together downstairs and him up here alone.

"All right. Good. But you'll let me or your father know if you're unhappy about something."

"Okay," Tristram answers automatically, although it doesn't really matter whether he's happy or unhappy about something. It's going to happen either way.

"Because that's what's most important," Doctor Watson continues. "I don't want you ever to feel unhappy or uncomfortable in your own home because of me and Emily."

"I'm not." Not about Emily, anyway. And not really about Doctor Watson, either. He wouldn't mind at all, in fact he'd think it was pretty cool to have Emily's father staying over, if the whole last-night-thing hadn't happened. And the beach. But maybe that's over now. Maybe Tristram walking in on them made them decide not to … do that anymore. It's an uncomfortable thought. Uncomfortable either way. Because if they stopped, and it's because of Tristram... Shouldn't he be happier if he's got his way?

"That's good," Doctor Watson says, sounding about as convinced as Tristram is. "I just had the feeling... And I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I think it's important."

Tristram stares hard at a spot on the cover. It's irregular, and tinged purple. Phenylphthalamine? Did he have any up here?

"Tris?" Doctor Watson touches Tristram's foot. His hand is warm. All of a sudden, Tristram feels tears coming on. He fights them back and concentrates on the spot.

"Look, this is all..." Doctor Watson trails off before trying a different approach. "It's a bit new for me too. I'm not sure what to think either. But what you saw..."

Tristram tries very hard to close his ears without actually putting his hands over them. He can close his nose from the inside, and he can close his eyes without using his hands. Why isn't it possible to close your ears?

"Tris, this is important." Doctor Watson's hand is still there. He shakes Tristram's foot a little, as if he thinks Tristram isn't paying attention. "There wasn't anything wrong with what you saw, with me and your dad. I reacted the way I did because I was surprised. I wasn't expecting you to come in and I was startled, that's all. It's just that usually, when two adults are affectionate with each other, they wait until they're pretty sure they'll be alone. So that's what was going on. But your dad was right, you absolutely did the right thing coming in, and you should always feel okay about going to him if you think something's wrong, or if you don't feel well. Always. Okay?"

Tristram nods and whispers, "Okay." He fervently hopes that Doctor Watson is done talking about it. Although it does, strangely, make him feel a little better to have the explanation. Affectionate. That actually sounds nice, not like the crude words the other kids snigger over, or the clinical, mechanical-sounding terms Uncle Mycroft used when he explained what married people do. Only Father and Doctor Watson aren't married. Are they?

"Okay," Doctor Watson says. He squeezes Tristram's foot, then lets go and sits back a bit. He seems relieved too. "Was there anything else? Anything you wanted to ask about? About your father and me, or anything else?"

Tristram is about to say no, but this might be the only time Doctor Watson makes the offer, and thus the only chance he has to get a direct answer. It doesn't really matter; it's not as if he would be affected if it is true. But it would go a long way toward explaining much of what's been going on the past few weeks, and especially this weekend. "Are you married?" he asks, so quietly it's barely even a whisper.

Doctor Watson leans forward a bit. "Sorry, what?"

Tristram tries again, because now it's out, and he wants to know. "You and my father? Did you get married?"

Doctor Watson's eyes get so big Tristram can see the whites all the way round. "Oh my G- No, we did not get married, is that what you- " He shakes his head back and forth. A lot. "No, Tris. Your father and I are not married. Not that it wouldn't- But no. No. Two people don't always get married first before they kiss, and other things," Doctor Watson explains. "Sometimes they like to kiss and hug a bit first, to see if they really like the other person. Not that we're even thinking of- Jesus, right, sorry. Tris, if your father and I were ever to decide to take a step like that - not that it is even remotely a topic of discussion - you would definitely know about it well in advance. Well, well in advance. You would be the first person to know about it. You and Emily. Okay?"

Tristram nods. He thinks he actually believes Doctor Watson, too, but now he feels incredibly silly. Of course they didn't get married! Tristram doesn't know now how he even considered it a possibility.

"Okay. Anything else?" It looks like Doctor Watson's holding his breath.

Tristram shakes his head.

Doctor Watson smiles and lets out a big sigh. "Thank God. You just about gave me a heart attack with that one." Tristram's pretty sure he's teasing, although his alarm did seem real. "But really, Tris, anything. Any time."

Emily reappears just then, freshly washed, and climbs onto the field bed. It creaks. She bounces around to make it creak even more, grinning at Tristram and her father. "Can you help us make a tent?"

"Sure," Doctor Watson agrees. He slaps his thighs and stands up to go and fetch some sheets.

By the time he comes back, Emily and Tristram have re-arranged the furniture so the two beds are right next to each other. That way both of them will be inside the tent. They try various configurations of draping the sheets over pieces of furniture and stretching them over the beds, but it's always either too low or too unstable. Finally, Doctor Watson asks Tristram for a hammer and nails, then proceeds to handily anchor two sheets to the ceiling so they hang down on either side of the beds. By pulling them together over the feet of the beds, they create a kind of teepee they can easily sit up in, even Doctor Watson. Tristram hands him Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which somehow made it back from Llanbroc even though he didn't pack his own bag. Before he can start reading, Emily insists they turn out the lights and fetch their torches so it's more like a real camp-out. Emily has one in the bag she brought with her, but Tristram has to go downstairs to get one from the kitchen.

His father is still at his desk, illuminated by the glow from his computer screen. All the other lights are off. He's been there all afternoon and evening now, including right through dinner. Doctor Watson made them spaghetti. That's what they had for dinner at the Watsons', too, last week. Was it only last week? It seems so long ago.

Tristram turns the light on in the kitchen and looks through drawers until he comes up with a torch that has working batteries. He pauses in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

"We made a tent," he says.

His father grunts.

"Do you want to come see it?" He doesn't know what makes him ask. He knows Father's going to say-

"Busy."

That. Tristram waits a little longer, long enough that his bare feet start to get chilled. As he turns to leave again, his father sits up straight and looks at Tristram as if he's just noticed him standing there.

"Tristram."

Tristram stops and turns around.

"Come here." His father swivels sideways in his chair to face him. It's the first time he's changed position in over eight hours, by Tristram's reckoning. Tristram goes over to stand next to the desk. His father puts his hands on Tristram's shoulders. That means what he's about to say is very important.

"I've told you this before, but I want to reiterate it so it's clear nothing's changed just because we're back here. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, I want you to come and tell me right away."

"Okay," Tristram agrees. "And if the door's closed, I'll wait until you answer before I open it."

His father doesn't say anything at first. Tristram thinks he's made a mistake, but that was what he said this morning, he's sure of it. After a few seconds, though, Father inhales deeply through his nose and says, "Yes, that might be best. Although I'll be working here all night, so it will hardly come up." It looks like he's about to say something else, but thinks better of it. "Right. Good night, then." He puts one hand against the back of Tristram's head and rubs his fingers back and forth a couple of times.

Tristram smiles. It's almost like a bear hug, by his father's standards. "Good night, Father."

Father smiles back, a small one, but his eyes crinkle, and Tristram's heart swells. Then he goes back upstairs to Emily and Doctor Watson.


&&&&&&

"John, go sleep in my room." Sherlock glances over at John trying to find a comfortable position on the couch.

John shuffles his shoulders against the pillow. He's lying on his back with his feet toward the door so he has a clear view of both the door to the outer hall and the passage to the kitchen. "I'm fine here."

"I'm going to be working all night. I'll be making some phone calls."

"Won't bother me," John assures him. Then he cranes his neck around to look at Sherlock, who's still sitting at his desk. "Unless you'd prefer to have some privacy?"

"It's not that."

"Don't worry about me, then." He settles back in his original position.

Sherlock doesn't say anything for a bit. John's eyes are still open, watching the door.

Sherlock breaks the silence: "That couch isn't going to do your shoulder any favours."

John lets out a long breath and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. Then he turns onto his side, propping his head up on one hand so he can see Sherlock. "Look. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I would rather not have my daughter - or your son, for that matter - see me stumble half-dressed out of your bedroom first thing in the morning. Even if nothing..." He stops and looks around again, then says, "I keep thinking of how Tristram reacted."

"He's fine. I talked to him," Sherlock says stiffly.

John's eyebrows pop up. "You did?"

"Yes." Sherlock looks defensive.

"Good. I mean, yeah, that's good. But um... What exactly did you say to him? Because I talked to him, too, and he seemed a bit confused."

"In what way?"

"He thought we'd got married."

"Pardon?"

"Yeah," John says, laughing a bit. "He asked whether we'd got married."

Sherlock pulls a face. "What in the world gave him that idea?"

"So you didn't say anything like that to him?"

"Certainly not! I simply told him it was perfectly natural and didn't concern him."

John takes a moment to digest that. "Right. Okay," he says carefully. "Only, it does concern him."

"I don't see how."

"He's your son. You're his father. If you get … involved … with someone, it affects him."

"We are not 'involved'," Sherlock says, as if the notion is distasteful.

John's expression turns suddenly cool. "No, right, I forgot that. So, never mind." John flops onto his back again and pulls the quilt up over him. "Good night." He deliberately closes his eyes, and turns his head toward the back of the couch for good measure.


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