SwissMiss' Creativity Outlet

Title: The Cuckoo's Lullaby
Author: swissmarg
Beta readers: ruth0007, dioscureantwins, special thanks to ladyprydian for medical advice
Rating: R
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Other characters: Irene Adler, OCs
Word count: ca. 85K when complete
Warnings: None
Additional tags: Angst, Kidfic, Parentlock, Single parents, Family, Patchwork family, Alternate universe, Fanfic of a fanfic, Switzerland, Holidays, First time, In which the author plays tour guide, PTSD, Sherlock wouldn't know what was inappropriate if it bit him, John should know better, Mycroft is not omnipotent, This trip was probably a bad idea, Original canon remix, No spoilers
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.
Disclaimer: This is a transformative fanwork inspired by the BBC television series Sherlock, which was created by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.
Notes: This is the sequel to my fic, Cracks in the In-Between Places, which is in turn an AU set in the universe of Getting Better by nox_candida. You will need to read both of those in order to understand what is going on. I'm providing a synopsis below for the bare facts, but it's better if you have time to read the fics themselves. This is not a direct sequel of Getting Better, and I have ignored the other fics in that series. Characters are used with permission.

*Now with bonus pictures at the end of the chapter!*


John, a doctor, and Sherlock, a consulting detective, are both single parents. They meet when Sherlock's 8-year-old son, Tristram, becomes friends with John's 9-year-old daughter, Emily. John's wife, Mary, was killed in an apparent mugging a couple of years earlier, and Tristram asks Sherlock to investigate. It turns out that her death was contracted by her sister, Claire, who was jealous of her and wanted John for herself. The hit was arranged through a mysterious figure known only as the bogeyman. In the course of Sherlock's investigation, Tristram and Emily are kidnapped, and Sherlock and John join forces to rescue them. However, they are unable to apprehend the kidnappers or discover the bogeyman's identity.


Sherlock and John continue to work together to bring Mary's killers to justice. Sherlock believes that a man named Moran is behind everything. Sherlock tricks John into shooting Moran, and in fear of reprisal, they take the children to Sherlock's mother's house in a remote part of Wales. While there, Sherlock and John become closer, but decide they need to eradicate any threats before pursuing their relationship further. Also while in Wales, Tristram meets a man whom he believes is a bodyguard sent by Mycroft to protect them. Sherlock realizes that they have been followed, and they return to London, where he hopes to gain more information and better protection.

Soon after returning, Sherlock starts receiving body parts that have been removed from members of his homeless network as a way of sending him threatening messages. One of the messages consists of a pie with a finger in it, which Tristram unwittingly eats a piece of. Fearing that Tristram has been poisoned, Sherlock calls John. When John arrives, a sniper tries to shoot him in the same manner that John killed Moran. Tristram sees the laser sight from the sniper's rifle and pushes John out of the way, resulting in the bullet hitting Tristram in the hand.

While recovering in hospital, Tristram receives another body-part message. Sherlock realizes that it is impossible to guarantee his son's safety any longer, and decides to leave for Switzerland, accompanied by John and Emily. At the airport, Tristram sees the man he thought was a bodyguard. Sherlock realizes that is the sniper, and creates a diversion that allows John and the children to get to safety as well as resulting in the man being arrested. The story ends with the four of them setting off for Switzerland once again, this time on a holiday to recover. Or is it?


Switzerland isn't what Tristram expected. It looks exactly like London: grey and industrial and cold. And rainy. He thought there would be snow. It's December, and there's snow on the bumps of the Alps on Uncle Mycroft's globe. The tourism magazines from the seat pockets that Emily has been pawing through also promised sunny vistas of snow-covered peaks. He is disappointed. As the aeroplane slowly taxis to the terminal, the rain runs in fat lines down the window. Father, in the seat next to him, is already checking his phone, even though the No Electronics sign hasn't been turned off yet.

It's almost dark. They left London at 1:13 pm. The flight took an hour and forty-five minutes, but it's an hour later in Switzerland than it is in England. Tristram's not sure how that can be; surely if it is three o'clock in London right now, it is also three o'clock here. There's not really such a thing as a time machine. Is there? In any case, the new time zone, combined with the time of year and the weather, means it's impossible to see much beyond the runway, the other airplanes waiting their turn and the service vehicles zipping around like bugs on the surface of the water.

When the aeroplane stops and the seat belt light goes off, Emily's head pops up over the back of the seat directly in front of Tristram. "We're here!" she exclaims excitedly.

Tristram isn't quite as excited. He wants to be excited - he's never gone on an honest-to-goodness holiday before, much less with Father. Summers at Grandmother's don't count because that's just visiting Grandmother and he knows everything there already. It's just that he was awake most if not all of the previous night, worrying about Father, and his back is sore, both from sitting for so long and from the pressure on his half-healed cuts, and he was expecting sunshine and mountains and cows and chocolate, and it's all so dreary.

Doctor Watson is standing up too now from the seat next to Emily and stretching. He smiles at Tristram, so Tristram can't help but smile back. Even Father glances up at Doctor Watson and smiles. A little, anyway.

"We should wait until everyone else has debarked," Father says. He's texting something as he speaks.

"Yeah, just needed to stretch." Doctor Watson rests his elbows on the headrest of his seat so he is facing Father. He is still smiling. He wets his lip and looks around, as if checking whether anyone is watching them. Before he can say anything, though, his phone must buzz, because he straightens up so he can take it out of his pocket. He unlocks it and reads whatever message he's received. He glances at Father and raises his eyebrows. Father is staring steadily at his phone, but there is colour in his cheeks.

"Sherlock..." Doctor Watson says. "That's not fair." But he sounds pleased. "This is probably costing a fortune," he grumbles cheerfully as he picks out the letters for a return text.

Tristram wonders why in the world Father and Doctor Watson are texting each other when they are both right here. No doubt there is a logical explanation, but Tristram certainly doesn't see it.

"What do you want to do first?" Emily asks Tristram, distracting him from their fathers. She picked out several places she wants to go from the tourism magazines and spent much of the flight showing them to Tristram.

Tristram, of course, is not exactly able to go snowboarding or tobogganing or swimming in waterparks with his cast. He hasn't pointed that out to her because he doesn't want to dampen her fun. Maybe her father can take her to all those places while he and his father stay at the hotel. Or maybe Father will even do something just with him. He doesn't know what; there didn't seem to be anything pictured in the magazines that someone with a fractured hand could do, aside from eating and drinking. Although that would be like going to Angelo's, so maybe they could do that. Find an Italian restaurant. Or a Swiss one, as they are in Switzerland. To be honest, Tristram doesn't really want to do anything at the moment, aside from get to the hotel so he can finally rest, so that's what he says in answer to Emily's question.

Emily groans and says, "Boring," but she smiles at the same time so he knows she doesn't hold it against him. Tristram feels a bit bad anyway. He doesn't want Emily to think he's boring. But he really is pretty tired.

The aisle is free now, but Doctor Watson has to finish his text and send it before he can put his phone away and start getting down their bags from the overhead compartment. Father stands up, watching his screen. When the message arrives, he reads it and then slips his phone into his pocket.

"No," he says. He's obviously talking to Doctor Watson, even though he isn't looking at him. He clears his throat. "But I'll take care of it." Doctor Watson hands him Tristram's backpack. Their eyes meet, finally. Doctor Watson looks amused, but something else too. Something warm, something that makes Tristram want to look away.

"Okay," Doctor Watson says in a confidential voice. "But we don't-"

"John, yes," Father speaks over him.

Tristram notices that they are still working on transferring the backpack from Doctor Watson to Father. They are both holding it, and Father's hand is over Doctor Watson's.

"Yes," Father repeats. It doesn't sound like he's trying to convince Doctor Watson of anything; more like he's assuring him.

"Okay," Doctor Watson says again with a little nod and slides his hand away, leaving Father holding the backpack.

Father then takes down his own carry-on bag and steps back so that Tristram can come into the aisle in front of him. Tristram reaches for the backpack, but Father says he'll carry it. Tristram is surprised; after all, he was specifically told to pack light so that he could carry everything himself. He notices that Emily is wearing her little blue backpack already. But he isn't about to argue.

They are the last ones off the plane, which means they don't have to wait very long at the baggage claim carousel. Once they all have their suitcases - this time, Tristram does have to pull his himself - they head for the exit.

As they approach the glass-walled area, Tristram sees that people are lining up and showing their passports. Originally, Uncle Mycroft gave them all fake passports because they were supposed to be going into hiding from the people who were sending the fingers and teeth and bits of skin. The man who shot Tristram has been arrested, though, and this is just a holiday, so they're using their real names and their real passports. At least Father said this was a holiday, but he hasn't relaxed the way he usually does when a case is over, so Tristram really isn't sure. Maybe he's tense because of Doctor Watson. Because of the kissing. Maybe that's all there is to it.

The guard waves them through after flicking an eye at the maroon booklets in Father's and Doctor Watson's hands, and Doctor Watson suggests that he go exchange some money while Father sorts their train tickets. It turns out they still have a two-and-a-half hour train ride ahead of them before they get to their final destination. However, Father insists that they all stay together. Tristram is glad about that, even if it means he has to drag his suitcase halfway across the terminal until they find a bank, and then all the way back and down several escalators, following the signs toward 'Bahn/Rail'.

Tristram thought they spoke another language in Switzerland - and to be sure, many of the people waiting with them at baggage claim and queuing in the tiny bank weren't speaking English, but that's no different than London. All of the airport signs, though, are in English - Information, Bank, Check-in, Shopping, Taxi, Gates, Parking. Some look like whoever made the sign wasn't sure how to spell, like Telefon/Telephone and Toiletten/Toilets. But some of the signs have words in what must be another language in addition to the English - Gepäckausgabe/Baggage Claim, Ausgang/Exit, Zoll/Customs. Extrapolating, that must mean that the 'misspelled' words are also in that other language. Tristram wonders what it is.

Emily notices the signs too. "What's abflug?" she asks.

"What's that?" Doctor Watson glances down at her, although he keeps most of his attention on Father, who is, it seems, permanently several steps ahead of them.

"Abflug," she repeats, pointing behind her. "On that sign, it says 'Abflug Departure'."

"Ahbfloog," Father says over his shoulder. He stops so that the rest of them can catch up. "It's German for 'departure'." So that answers what the other language is.

"Why'd they put it in German?" Emily wants to know.

"Because that is the local language, obviously," Father says, although he's not as condescending as he normally would be. And anyway, Tristram doesn't find it so obvious. A lot of the signs are really only in English. The adverts in the light boxes as well.

"The people here speak another language, Em," Doctor Watson explains to her. "Although most of them understand English too. Don't worry." He gives her a reassuring smile.

"Abflug," Emily says to Tristram, grinning like it's a joke. It does sound funny. Tristram smiles too.

"Ahbfloog," Father corrects her again, then continues walking.

Emily catches her father's hand as they hurry to keep up. "Abflug," she whispers to Tristram and giggles.

Tristram looks around until he finds another one on the sign for the smoking area. He nudges Emily and waves his cast in its direction. "Raucherzone," he announces with a grin.

"Rrowxertsohneh," Father's voice floats back to them, rolling the R and making an awful gagging sound in the middle.

Emily and Tristram look at each other and burst out laughing. Doctor Watson laughs too. Pretty soon, it's a contest between them who can find the funniest one. Father stops correcting them, but it doesn't make it any less funny. By the time they finally get to 'Billette', Tristram is afraid he's going to pee from laughing so hard.

Doctor Watson says, "Hey, I'm going to pop over and grab some snacks for the train," when Father queues up for the ticket window. He points at a bakery directly opposite. "You want anything in particular?"

Father shakes his head. "No."

Tristram doesn't know whether he's meant to go with Doctor Watson or stay with Father. Neither of them say anything, and he's honestly tired of dragging his suitcase around, so he stands it up on end and sits down on it next to Father while Doctor Watson and Emily go to the bakery.

Father looks down at Tristram and frowns. "Pulling that suitcase is putting too much strain on your back. Why didn't you say anything?"

Tristram rotates his left shoulder. His back is sore, true, but he didn't connect that with pulling the suitcase. It's hurt since he was shot. Although that's not from the bullet; it's from all the glass that got stuck in his back from the broken window. He shrugs. "It's fine."

Father looks at Tristram's suitcase, then his. "Stand up," he says.

Tristram stands up. Father picks Tristram's suitcase up and lays it cross-wise on top of his own, so that it is resting against the long extendable handle sticking up from the top. Then he opens his carry-on bag and rattles around in it until he comes up with a roll of duct tape. He deftly wraps the tape around Tristram's suitcase and the handle so that it is held in place. He gives the combination an experimental shake to test the stability, then pulls it forward with him as the queue moves. It wobbles a little, but nothing falls off.

Father is now carrying everything of Tristram's; the backpack is also looped over the handle of his suitcase. Tristram feels guilty. Then he catches sight of what his father wrote on his cast: 'Remember our agreement'. Their agreement is that Tristram would get better, and Father would find and punish whoever hurt him. Father has already covered his part of the agreement, by getting the man with the gun arrested. Tristram, however, isn't better yet. That's still going to take several weeks; longer if he pulls open any of his cuts again or bangs his hand on something and dislodges the pins they put in. So really, Father is just helping him hold up his end of the bargain. That makes him feel a tiny bit better, although he knows it isn't fair to put everything onto his father. Still, he says, "Thanks."

Father grunts an acknowledgment.

Doctor Watson and Emily come back with two white paper bags. Emily shows Tristram what's inside: sandwiches and some jam-filled biscuits shaped like smiley faces.

"I made him get those," Emily confides, pointing out the biscuits. "Do you want one now?" She holds the bag out to him.

"No thanks." Tristram isn't hungry, but they do have a long train ride ahead of them, so maybe he'll feel like it later.

"Got you a sandwich, if you want," Doctor Watson says to Father. "Thought we can probably get drinks on the train?"

"Possibly," Father hedges. "They may not have a restaurant car for such a short stretch."

"Hey, what'd you do with your suitcase?" Emily asks, having just noticed the piggy-backed suitcases at Father's side.

Doctor Watson looks down. "Oh, nice idea," he says, sounding surprised and pleased. "I was trying to figure out how to handle two at once, otherwise I would have offered to take it earlier."

"Can we do that with mine too?" Emily pleads.

Doctor Watson chuckles. "I think you can pull yours a little while longer."

Emily pouts, but doesn't seem very put out. Even so, seeing her dissatisfaction makes Tristram feel worse. He'd rather undo the suitcase and pull it himself now, just so it's fair again.

The queue moves and it's their turn, so they are distracted from the question of the suitcases. They all crowd round the ticket window, and Father talks to the ticket agent in another language. At first, Tristram assumes it must be German, because of the signs, but the more he listens, the more it sounds like French. He's heard Father and Uncle Mycroft and Grandmother speaking French before when there was something they wanted to say to each other that they didn't want Tristram to understand. Do the people here speak French after all? But then why did Father say it was German?

Whatever language it is, Father and the woman seem to be having quite a discussion, involving her pulling out a brochure and pointing to various charts and circling things. Finally, she slides the brochure and a print-out from her computer through the gap under the window, and Father moves aside so the next person can take their turn.

"Something wrong?" Doctor Watson asks, craning his neck to get a look at the papers in Father's hand. Father hands him the brochure. Doctor Watson frowns at it. Tristram stands on his tiptoes to have a look. It's not in English, but Tristram can't identify it any further than that. Doctor Watson doesn't seem to be able to make any more sense of it than Tristram.

"Not at all," Father says. He starts to walk away. Emily and Doctor Watson get their suitcases turned around and follow him along with Tristram. Father continues to speak: "I've discovered it will be more convenient for us to buy a pass. That way, we won't have to purchase individual tickets every time."

"Great, so why didn't you?" Doctor Watson asks.

"Apparently we need photos. The agent told me there's a booth right over..." Father leads them past the ticket office. There are no more shops, just some lockers and benches and unmarked metal doors, as well as, tucked in the back, a booth that announces 'Passfotos in 3 Minuten' in big letters on the side. The words are so close to English that it's no fun. "Ah! Here," he announces.

Emily gets to go first, then Tristram. There's a recorded voice that says what to do, and you can even choose which language. Tristram chooses English. Doctor Watson adjusts the stool for him so he's at the right height. There's a choice between taking four different poses or just one. They only need the one, so Tristram pushes that button. Then Doctor Watson hands Tristram some coins and pulls the curtain closed so there won't be any shadows on the picture. Tristram drops the coins into the slot and smiles at himself in the reflecting glass. Then there is a flash, and it's all done. Emily's pictures have already come out of the slot on the side of the machine, so now they wait for Tristram's while Doctor Watson takes his turn. Father goes last.

Tristram's pictures come out while the voice is telling Father to insert his coins. Doctor Watson hands him the strip of four pictures.

"Looks good," he says.

Tristram looks at the pictures. "My hair's sticking out funny," he says, because it is. He hopes that's okay for the train ticket.

Doctor Watson grins. "Just like your dad's."

Tristram looks again. He's right. Over the ears, that's exactly how Father's hair sticks out. Tristram grins too. The drying fan comes on again and the strip with Doctor Watson's pictures drops into the slot. Emily takes it out and blows on it, holding it gingerly on the edges. Tristram leans in to see. Doctor Watson is smiling pleasantly in the picture. Tristram likes it.

The light flashes for Father's picture, so he must be done. He pulls the curtain back, but before he can get up, Doctor Watson says, "One more thing," and steps around Tristram and Emily so he can go into the booth with Father. He pulls the curtain shut.

Father says, "What are you- John!"

There is a shuffling, scuffling sound and the curtain billows out. Tristram ducks his head. Next to him, Emily does too. Under the curtain, Doctor Watson's legs are visible from the knees down beside his father's, but turned to the side.

"Put the money in," Doctor Watson says.

"I don't know if I have- God, how much do you weigh?" Despite the complaint, Father chuckles through the words.

"Give it here," Doctor Watson says briskly.

There is the sound of coins, followed by the computerised voice giving the instructions again.

"John, really, this is-" Then Father laughs, and Doctor Watson does too.

The sound makes Tristram want to join in. He likes hearing his father laugh. He does it so rarely. He's laughed a lot more since he's become friends with Doctor Watson. Tristram looks at Emily. He knows she also likes the fact that her father's happy when he's together with his father. After Emily's mother died, she told him once, her father was sad for a long time. Emily grins at him. He grins back. The flash goes off in the photo booth. Father and Doctor Watson are still laughing, but their voices are muffled now, and then they fall silent.

Tristram bends over again. Doctor Watson's legs have turned in more, as if he's almost facing Father rather than standing (or sitting?) perpendicular to him. There isn't another stool. Is he sitting on Father's lap? The light flashes again. They must have chosen the second option, to take four different pictures. The pictures of Father by himself come out, but Tristram and Emily leave them in the slot because they are more interested in what's going on behind the curtain.

"I think they're kissing," Emily whispers.

Tristram straightens up. He just came to the same conclusion. He can hear their heavy breaths behind the curtain. The light flashes a third time. Tristram steps away from the booth. Father doesn't like anyone to see them kiss. Tristram still isn't sure how he feels about it, himself. The light flashes once more for the final picture.

Tristram and Emily wait, but Father and Doctor Watson don't come out. The fan comes on again, and a strip of photos drops into the drying slot on top of the strip with the four photos of Father. Tristram thinks they probably shouldn't look at them, but Emily has no such compunctions. She slides the newest strip out and looks at them.

"I told you," she whispers triumphantly, holding the photos out so Tristram can see them. He looks.

The first one is funny. Father and Doctor Watson are smashed into the frame, both of their faces distorted with laughter. Father's eyes are half-closed, and Doctor Watson's mouth is open so far you can see his tongue. A laugh bubbles up in Tristram too. They look silly, but he can also tell they are having fun.

In the second and third photos, though, their eyes are closed and mouths are pressed together, and if Tristram didn't know better, he'd say that in fact both of their mouths are open while they are against each other. But maybe the camera just caught them at an odd angle, or as they were taking a breath. Doctor Watson has both hands cupped around Father's jaw, as if he's holding him in place, and one of Father's hands is just visible around the back of Doctor Watson's head, buried in his hair. It makes Tristram uncomfortable. They shouldn't be looking at these.

In the last picture, they really are taking a breath, or have stopped kissing altogether. Tristram doesn't feel any better about looking at this picture, though. Their faces are still close, but their eyes are open now and they are looking at each other. Tristram gets a funny feeling in his stomach, because this is even more private than the kissing.

He's never seen two people look at each other like that before, not even Emily's aunts, who are married. Maybe it's something they only do when they are alone. Certainly Father and Doctor Watson thought they were alone in the photo booth. They didn't expect Tristram and Emily to be looking at these pictures. Maybe this is part of the 'being affectionate' that Doctor Watson told him people save for when they are in private. Tristram feels like he's eavesdropping - eaveslooking maybe? Is that a word?

"Put it back," he tells Emily, whispering so that hopefully Father and Doctor Watson won't hear, although honestly he thinks they're well distracted at the moment. He can hear the murmur of their voices behind the curtain now, but they're too low and indistinct to make out any of the words.

"Why?" she wants to know.

"Because it's private." Tristram can't help a desperate edge from creeping into his voice. He doesn't know how else to explain it to her.

"They're just kissing!" Emily says, laughing a little. She turns the photo strip so she can admire it.

Just then, the curtain opens. Tristram jumps back.

"Sorry that took a bit longer," Doctor Watson says, but he's grinning in a sort of lopsided way and doesn't appear at all sorry. His hair is sticking up in back. From Father's fingers, Tristram realises. As if he's noticed where Tristram is looking, Doctor Watson smooths his hand over the back of his head. It takes a couple of passes before his hair goes down.

Father steps out of the booth a moment later. He keeps his eyes on the ground. "We should be going if we're to catch the next train," he says gruffly.

Doctor Watson looks at him sideways, pursing his lips like he's about to laugh. He clears his throat. "Yeah, the erm... the pictures..." He takes Father's pictures from where they are still waiting in the slot of the machine.

"Here's the ones of you kissing," Emily chirps, holding them out to him.

"Oh, God, I didn't-" Doctor Watson takes the pictures and looks at them. His expression falters as he glances between Emily and Tristram. "I thought I pushed the button for one." He looks down at the pictures again.

Father is standing behind Doctor Watson now - right behind him, the whole length of his body against Doctor Watson's back, with one hand on his shoulder - and looking at the pictures Doctor Watson's holding. His face is expressionless.

"I just wanted one of us together," Emily's father murmurs. "Just as a lark, I didn't-"

"Now you have four," Father says neutrally and steps away, walking back toward the ticket window.

Doctor Watson turns his head after him. A brief flash of guilt passes over his features, but rather than going after him, he crouches down in front of Tristram and Emily.

"I'm not ashamed of this," he tells them soberly, his blue eyes earnest in his lined face, as he holds the photo strip. "But I certainly didn't mean for you to see it. God, I'm really..." He shakes his head and looks at the floor for a moment. Then he takes a quick, deep breath and meets their eyes again. "What goes on between two adults in private is meant to stay private. So I'm sorry about that. At the same time, though, I think we need to have a talk about all of this later, because yes, you might see us hugging or kissing, and I don't want that to make you uncomfortable."

"It doesn't," Emily pipes up. "You're happy when you're with Sherlock. I like it when you laugh."

Doctor Watson smiles at her fondly. "That's great, Ems. And I do appreciate it. You're right, being with Sherlock makes me happy ... most of the time, anyway," he adds wryly. "What about you, Tris?"

Tristram knows he's supposed to say he doesn't mind it, either. He's supposed to say it doesn't make him uncomfortable when he sees his father touching Doctor Watson, or kissing him. He's supposed to say he's happy that they're friends. He is, too, looked at objectively, but at the same time there are lots of other feelings mixed up with the logical happiness that kind of drown it out. He has to say something, though, so he tells Doctor Watson the same thing he told his father that night in the taxi after their last visit to the Watsons': "It's fine."

Doctor Watson's face crumples a little and he reaches out to take hold of Tristram's good hand. "Tris, you know, no matter what, your father loves you. You are the most important thing in his life. Nothing is going to change that. Nothing."

Tristram knows that's not entirely true. Father's work is the most important thing in his life. But that's fine. Really fine, not just saying it's fine. Tristram is perfectly happy with his life with his father. He's not sure about the love part either. He knows that parents are supposed to love their children, but he honestly, truly has no idea what his father would say if anyone asked him whether he loved Tristram. Certainly he's never said it to him. If anyone asked Tristram whether he loved his father, he'd say 'yes' because he knows it's expected, but he's not sure that all the complicated things that well up in him when he thinks about his father is what other people call 'love'. It's not like there's a litmus test for it. Maybe Father has the same problem.

The three of them trail back to the ticket window, where Father is purchasing their rail passes. They hang back a bit so as not to be in the way of the other passengers. Tristram feels a lump of sadness in his stomach, which is ridiculous. Everything is fine. Doctor Watson puts his hand on Tristram's shoulder and squeezes it gently. It's probably meant to be reassuring. Tristram wants to lean into it, to lean against Doctor Watson and let himself be reassured, but that would be like saying it's really okay with him that he and Father were kissing. So he doesn't. Tristram looks down, turning his arm around so he can see what's written on the other side of his cast. 'You are incredibly brave. Thank you. -John'. Tristram feels anything other than brave at the moment. He turns his arm back around so the message is hidden again.

Beside him, Emily has taken one of the smiley-faced biscuits out of the bakery bag. She offers it to Tristram. He shakes his head and says, "No thanks." She shrugs and munches on it herself.

Tristram lets his eyes wander over the other travellers. In addition to those standing in line for rail tickets, there are people meandering between the shops, some laden with two or three purses or backpacks slung across their bodies. Others are walking briskly, like they know where they're going, carrying briefcases or pulling tidy little suitcases on wheels. He doesn't see any security guards. There are also no windows down on this level.

Father comes back with some laminated cards in his hand. He gives two to Doctor Watson, and keeps two for himself. Doctor Watson takes his hand off Tristram's shoulder.

The railway platforms themselves are one more level down. It's dark and drafty. It reminds Tristram of the Underground in London, in a way, only bigger and less friendly, somehow. Tristram likes riding the Underground. It always feels like an adventure. This is an adventure too, but there's too much uncertainty, in too many ways, for Tristram to really enjoy it.


Chapter note: The descriptions of the layout of the airport, train station and shops are as I recall them, although I added in the photo booth in that corner.

Here is where you can buy railway tickets at the Zurich airport. The bakery is right about where the photographer is standing.



And here's what the platform looks like, one level lower:



I fudged with the rail passes. In fact, you can buy a pass for 20 francs valid for one year that enables children to ride for free when accompanied by one of their parents, and you don't need a photo for that. But I wanted photos of the children for something that will come later. Not a big deal, but I just thought this was a neat way of slipping it in.

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