It was just about 4:00 pm when Ian's car pulled up in front of Harry's house. John hadn't been joking—he really could get used to this, he thought as Stephen jumped out to open the door for him.
"You really don't have to…" John started, and then shut his mouth as the man walked to the boot to pull out the large box Ian had sent.
"Would you like me to carry this in for you?"
"No, thanks. I can manage. It's bulky but not heavy." John took the box, festive with its red bow. "Hopefully I won't be too long."
He walked up to the door and knocked. Harry opened the door almost right away, pulling him inside with a hug as he struggled not to drop the box. "What's this, then?" John asked, surprised.
"I'm just glad to see you." Harry sniffed into his shoulder.
John did some sniffing of his own and stifled a groan. Harry had been drinking. He mentally kicked himself. He should have known this was a possibility. The woman was an alcoholic and she had just been kidnapped. He should never have assumed she would be okay. "What happened? Did you see Clara today?"
She shook her head, eyes red. "No, I got sacked."
Now he did drop the box. (He hoped it wasn't anything breakable.) "You what?"
"They said I'd missed too much work. I told them about being kidnapped, I showed them the newspaper article, but they didn't care! I think they just wanted to get rid of me. But honest, Johnny, this time it wasn't my fault!
He pulled her more firmly into his arms "Of course it wasn't." Even he couldn't blame her for taking a drink on this news. Being kidnapped and tied up in a wine cellar, finding out her brother is only her half-brother and possibly heir to a fortune as well, and then getting sacked? He was furious. Who would fire a woman for missing work for being kidnapped?
He led her into the sitting room and sat down on the couch with his arm around her, trying to ignore the open bottle of gin on the table. He was already thinking about all the things he wanted to say to her boss—former boss—and wondering what he could do to help.
He let her cry for a bit, and when she'd quieted, pulled his arm away and stood up. "Let's see what's in that nice present Ian sent, shall we? Maybe it will cheer you up."
Mental fingers crossed that Ian was good at gift-giving, he hurried to the hallway to retrieve the box and then back to the sitting room before she could reach for the gin. He slid the box onto her lap and then moved the bottle and glass off the table so she'd have room to open it.
"You know," he told her, trying to cheer her up, "I've never gotten a sorry-you-were-kidnapped present before. I'm quite curious."
She looked skeptical but sat up straight as she slid the box across to the coffee table. "It's enormous, what could it be? A box of ransom money to avoid this happening again?"
John watched her untie the bow, curious himself. Ian had said he didn't want the gift to seem like a bribe, but this wasn't like a birthday or get well present. There were no greeting cards for 'Sorry You Were Kidnapped.' He was anxious to see what Ian came up with—because there was obviously very little room for error here..
Struggling a little, Harry eased the lid from the box. On top of the massive pile of tissue paper was a note which she read quickly. She handed the note to John and started to dig in the tissue paper.
Ms. Watson,
My sincere apologies for the actions of my son Andrew. He has always been selfish and short-sighted, but I never realized he would go to such lengths against an innocent woman, daughter of my old friend. I offer this in hopes that it will bring you comfort in a difficult time.
May I also add that you and your brother are both a credit to your mother. She was the finest woman I ever knew, and devoted to your father. I wish you well in all your future endeavors.
-Ian Littleston
John looked up as Harry gasped. "Oh my God, it's beautiful."
She stood up, arms full of silk and fur. John reached for it, too, and helped her hold out the most amazing blanket he had ever seen. Luscious with soft fur lined with silk, it was rich and warm and the feel as it slid across his fingers was almost sensual. He had never seen anything like it. The fur was stitched into a subtle herringbone pattern, a thing of beauty as well as impossibly luxurious.
Harry sank back down on the couch, pulling the rug into her lap. Her face was stunned and John gave a silent tip of the hat to Ian for nailing the perfect gift. "It's amazing," she said, hands stroking the fur, eyes soft. "I can't believe … it must have cost a fortune!"
John sat next to her, unable to keep his hands away from the fur, either. "I think cuddling into this would definitely make me feel comforted."
She nodded. "It does. It doesn't change anything, but it makes me feel better. At least I'll be comfortable sitting on the couch doing nothing for the rest of my life." She glanced at the gin, mouth pulling at the corners.
John stood up abruptly. "Let me get you some tea, yeah?" he said as he headed for the kitchen.
"I only had the one drink, you know." Harry said quietly behind him. "I know I shouldn't have, but I did stop at one."
He nodded once and then continued into the kitchen, thinking hard. John was furious, but not at Harry. This time, at least, he didn't blame her for needing a drink. How could her employer do that? Weren't there laws about wrongful termination? He knew exactly who to ask about that. He started the kettle and pulled out his phone.
Mycroft was gratifyingly as appalled as John at Harry's being fired. John smiled grimly as he hung up. He didn't know what Mycroft was going to do, but was reasonably sure that (1) Harry would have a new, better job very shortly and that (2) her old employer was about to be audited at the very least.
He realized he didn't have Ian's number, so he called Mycroft back. (Because of course Mycroft had it.) He was just pouring the water into the teapot when he got through to Ian. "That gift was amazing," he told him.
John could hear the other man smiling down the line. "It was a delicate decision, but I thought it would do."
"It's perfect. I don't think she's going to put it down. She's going to be on the couch with that rug for days. She'll forget to eat, but she'll get plenty of sleep."
"I hope her employer offers telecommuting as an option, then."
"Not really a concern at the moment," he told Ian bluntly. "Apparently they found her absence to be inconvenient and have let her go."
Silence from the other end, then, "Do you know who her employer was?"
John smiled to himself at the thought of siccing not one, but two formidable, powerful men against Harry's old boss, and so he told him. He instantly regretted it, though, when he thought about Ian's health. "I told Mycroft, too, Ian, so you don't need to worry."
"Nonsense. That kind of insensitivity is bad for business and therefore bad for the economy as a whole. Employers need to realize they get their best profit from happy employees, not down-trodden ones. Believe me, this will be my pleasure. One last favor for an old friend. Besides, I'll enjoy throwing my weight around one last time."
John's smile was wicked now. "Okay, then, just don't tire yourself out. I'll see you tomorrow?"
#
