Grief is always a confusing and struggling topic for anyone of any age. John Hamish Watson had had to go through that gruelling process at the bare age of seven.
Moving house is also a confusing and struggling topic. And yes, John Watson had to also go through that process at the age of seven.
When these two topics happen at once, everything is extra confusing and struggling. And even more so for John, who in the bare space of two months had turned seven. He had been told his father died whilst at war and moved towns. So when John Watson moved house with a grieving family, his life was very confusing and very struggling.
John and his older sister had fought in the car on the way to their new home. They were now sitting in the back of the small blue Ford, sulking. John had another, more important reason to sulk. He had been forced to leave his friends, his home, and he now had to move to a new house in a new town. The little navy car pulled outside the new house and the Watson's got out.
John leant against the car and crossed his arms. 'He didn't like the house at all' he immediately decided. He looked around, and his decision was instantly guaranteed when he saw the much more magnificent houses across the road compared to the much smaller looking house he was now to live in.
John's mother opened the house and John slowly walked to the door. Dragging his bag on the ground, but before he went inside, he turned around once more, and something caught his eye. A boy was standing, looking out of a window in the gothic looking house opposite his. With a mop of black hair, and a piercing expression.
'What a strange boy?' thought John. He stared at him, And only stopped when his mother ushered him inside.
As John ran up the stairs with his sister, to fight over the best room, that image of the boy haunted John, and would do so for the rest of his childhood.
John spent the first night in his new house tossing and turning. This was to be expected after being in a new house, and nightmares were most certainly consistent thanks to his fathers stories of war in which his father was now part of. But also because he couldn't stop thinking about that creepy boy. He didn't know why, but he intrigued him. After some hours, John finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.
Even though John had finally gone to sleep, he woke up early and decided to explore the new house. There was an attic with two worn chairs and a big bookcase full of dusty books which mountains of junk piled around the setting. John ignored the books and stood on one of the chairs, and stared out of the window, drinking in the vast landscape, peering over the rows of houses and out onto the horizon. 'Maybe this house isn't as bad' he thought curiously.
"John! Harry! Breakfast!" called John's mother tiredly. John clambered down the chair and breathed in the sweet smell of pancakes. John passed by his sister's room; in the battle for the bedrooms, Harriet had won the biggest room, but John was satisfied with the slightly smaller one as it had a big window, which faced the road, and he didn't have many possessions to fill a room with.
John was half way through his second pancake when he heard a knock on the front door. John's mother got up and answered it. John heard voices in the corridor and decided to investigate. And very much to his surprise, he saw the boy whom he seen the day before.
The boy was standing in the doorway with his mother and his much older brother. The boy had a curious, but disgruntled expression on his face as his eyes travelled around the room. His brother was in a way 'inspecting' the room with his eyes and their mother had a hand on each of her son's shoulders. The older of the two boys was leaning against a shining, black umbrella. He was dressed in a pale blue tie, and a fussy white shirt, neatly tucked into smart black trousers, something that a normal fourteen year old would not wear willingly. But before John could continue his silent curiosity, Harriet crossed her arms and scowled at the boy's brother.
"Why do you have that umbrella? It's not raining! And girls have umbrella's, not boys stupid" Harriet pointed out. The boy scowled, he was visually offended. But the boy's mother laughed. A laugh like tinkling glass spread through the room.
"That girl has smarts Mycroft, darling why do you even take that thing around with you!" laughed the mother thoughtfully. The boy continued to scowl but then thought better of him and faked a smile.
"Welcome to the neighbourhood," said the mother, turning her appearance to the Watson family. She seemed harmless enough thought John, so he smiled a little, encouragingly. But as she kept talking, he found himself drifting away. John wasn't being rude, but he longed to finish his breakfast and to finish his exploration around the new house. And as he was drifting away, he looked at the boy he had seen the day before. Now that he was up close, the boy startled him. He was wearing a fantastically long grey coat, which made him look even more mysterious. The coat covered a plain white shirt that wasn't tucked in and some grey shorts with worn cuffs. He had thick luscious locks of dark brown hair. John couldn't see what colour the boy's eyes were, as they were pointed out of the window. But again, John was interrupted from his gaze as the older boy was now staring at him curiously. John felt uneasy at this inspection, so he continued to look away.
Soon enough the talking had stopped, as the family had traipsed out of the house. The younger boy left, his coast swishing as he walked. And the older boy gave a quick nod at John. It wasn't obvious, but slightly noticeable as if only John saw it.
"They seem nice," said Mrs. Watson politely.
"They are weird," said Harriet in response. John didn't say anything, but looked out after the family going back to their house quietly.
