CHAPTER ONE

IN WHICH JOHN IS WEARY OF HIS DREARY LIFE

That was five years ago. John was still at the hat shoppe and would have very likely remained there had the events not happened the way they had (and thank goodness they had!).

During the five years under Fanny's apprenticeship, John had had every job the shoppe could offer him. First he had trimmed hats, and although John was a deft man with a needle (he had been even before he had to help patch up wounded comrades), but the tremor in his hand would come and go so unexpectedly, that it proved to be quite difficult when the task of adding wax fruit or flowers to hats was called for.

Next he became a salesman, and that was almost disastrous. John was a likable enough bloke, but he would knock over displays with that damnable cane of his and would sometimes lose his temper when he was frustrated, thereby driving away customers.

Then John was set to stacking boxes. He was immediately taken off this job as he could not be off his cane for even a moment without falling over.

Eventually John was set with the task of going out and dealing with the clothier and silk merchant to bargain over prices and goods. He found he was much more useful in this post since he was not only good at haggling, but he was also not being asked to trim hats, sell hats or stack hats-in fact John was very glad that the only contact he came into with anything hat-related was the silks and fabrics he was purchasing that would eventually be made into hats. Ultimately John realized why he had had such a problem working inside the shoppe in the first place since his return (and maybe this had been the problem he'd had all his life with the place, he wasn't sure). He found the shoppe stuffy, with its close-quarters and watchful workers and after seven years of sun, wind and sand it was no wonder he was not accustomed to being cooped up inside all day. So, although the nearest clothier and silk merchant was half a mile away from the shoppe and over cobbled, uneven streets, and the walk made his leg ache, John preferred being out in the fresh air to the stuffy old shoppe.

And if he could still clearly see the castle's messages sprawled lazily across the sky, well that was an added bonus.

And so before he knew it, John Hamish Watson, being thirty-two years of age, had convinced himself that nothing of spectacular importance would ever happen to him again because nothing ever happened to the eldest child.

This is the story of how wrong he would be (as well as where it begins).

All around Market Chipping, the townspeople were galavanting and crowding the streets for the May Day celebration. Banners flew high in the air, streamers decorated the threshold of each resident and business front, while several residences overhead had opened their windows as the occupiers tossed out colorful confetti; the light breeze drifted them downwards into the streets.

Although the happy atmosphere of the May Day festivities were infectious, John had trouble getting into the spirit as he was jostled to no end by children racing past or by couples dancing up either end of the streets as he relied on the aid of his cane to keep him balanced. He only glared once or twice, but for the most part John grit his teeth through the pain and carried on walking. He reassured himself that he only had two more streets to go before he reached Cesari's, his intended destination.

He had to admit he was very excited at the thought of visiting his sister. Apart from the occasional letter, he hadn't seen or heard from either of his sisters. The last time he had seen either of his sisters was the day he left for the army.

That was twelve years ago.

The only reason John hadn't seen Molly, as she explained in her occasional letter and through common knowledge throughout town, was because business had been picking up and she was always busy. As for Harry, apart from a letter that she'd send once a year, John had heard very little. From what he'd read though, Harry was doing fine, Mrs. Fairfax was good to her, but the work was tough and time-consuming.

Cesari's would undoubtedly be busier than usual considering the holiday, but John couldn't stand it anymore, he had to see Molly which was exactly why he was hobbling down uneven cobbled streets, working his way through hoards of people as they continuously pushed past him.

At last he reached Cesari's and as he had predicated, the place was crowded with people-the best way of describing the state of the pastry shop was that it was packed. The crowd was made up of mostly men.

They were all crowded around the sales-counter and smiling as they shouted inappropriate suggestions at the girl taking their orders. John, not a very tall man, had to stand on tip-toe to see past the heads of his fellow men. His eyes widened in surprise when he discovered that the girl receiving all these indecent proposals was his little sister. Anger bubbled up inside John as his protective, older brother instincts began to take over, when he noticed something even more shocking than his previous discovery.

Molly by nature was incredibly socially-awkward, a trait that had made her quite shy as a girl, leaving her to prefer the company of cats and daisies as opposed to actual people. She would often get teased by the other children and more than once John had beat up children twice his size if they so much as looked at Molly funny.

But there was Molly-incredibly shy, awkward Molly who loved books and cats and the idea of cutting up cadavers-laughing off the men's advances, hitting them playfully and acting just as loud and boisterous as the men who surrounded her.

John was dumbstruck. Not only had her entire personality undergone a transformation, but her appearance changed as well: her hair was cut so that the back was just past the nape of her neck, while the front still remained relatively long. But instead of auburn, her hair had been tinted lighter; almost blond.

It was right at that moment that Molly turned her head towards his direction and noticed her big brother, surprise clearly written on her face. "John!" she shouted over the men's voices.

"Can we talk?" he shouted in response as he made his way closer to the counter. It was no easy task; it felt like every man in the entire country was gathered in that shop, separating him from his sister.

A mischievous smile that had no place on Molly's sweet features filled her face. "Give me ten seconds," she said.

She turned towards a door behind her that said Employees Only, opened it just a crack and shouted, "Oy! Can I get some help out here?"

Another girl came out promptly and took over Molly's station.

"Oh Molly I want you to take my order!" A mustached man protested as loud groans resounded throughout the shop.

"Well you'll just have to put up with Lettie here," Molly retorted, lifting the wooden door of the counter to admit John. "I've got to talk with my brother!" She turned back to John, "Follow me," she said then she led him through the shop.

John followed her down a long corridor that split off into different rooms and sections as Molly made her way through the maze of the shop's brick wall passages, past the kitchens where John could clearly smell bread baking. Molly finally stopped when they reached the back of the shop where she admitted John into a large room filled with towering large crates and mounds of straw.

Once John was inside, Molly shut and bolted the wooden door behind him so that they wouldn't be disturbed.

Molly turned back to face her older brother.

"Before you say anything, John," she started, her brown eyes flecked with blue and blazing. That was weird, John momentarily mused. Molly's eyes were dark brown and without any traces of blue or green.

"You need to know I'm not Molly." She said, before taking a breath. "I'm Harry."

John stared at her. There were so many things to say, so many questions to ask. How is that possible? Where is your sister? Why are you here? But all that came out was "Oh."

John sank down onto the top of a crate beside him. His leg had begun to cramp up, and the effect was just hitting him now.

"Surprised?" Molly-Harry-asked with a small, uncertain smile.

"Not really," John said, rubbing the nape of his neck absentmindedly.

"You knew?" She asked, surprised.

"No," John shook his head, it was starting to ache.

"Then how'd you figure it out?" Harry asked, sounding disappointed.

"I didn't," he clarified. "But it was the little things that tipped me off. Your mannerisms for one thing. And the letters. Molly's were erratic and it was really weird that she never came to see me. While your letters always came on the same day, once a year."

"You always did like Molly better," Harry said with a sigh as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned against a tower of crates.

John didn't deny it.

"So whose idea was it," he asked, peering up at his sister's face, his chin in the palm of his hand. "Yours?"

"Molly's actually," Harry corrected with a tinge of annoyance. "She was here for a week before she rang me. You were still in hospital, she was so upset. She told me she was absolutely miserable here, but had to stay as she couldn't disappoint Mum. I tried to calm her down, and in the process admitted I was miserable at Fairfax's.

"It was just a bunch of reading and studying and I was bored out of my mind. To Molly, though, it sounded like heaven. She asked me if there was any way I could switch places with her? I agreed instantly, but admitted that I wouldn't know how we'd go about it. Molly said there must be some sort of spell we could use.

"It took a lot of books and dedication, but I found it. So claiming homesickness, I asked to go home and Fairfax let me. We cast the spell on ourselves and the next day Molly took the train back as me and I stayed here as her.

"The spell isn't going to last long," she said before John had a chance to ask. "As you can tell, it's starting to wear off and people are beginning to notice.

"We were both a bit worried that you'd notice the change, but you never came in. So I'd all but forgotten until you showed up here. I'm happy here. Cesari's is a great place to work and I'm really good at managing and baking. That raspberry croissant that everyone's raving about? That's a creation of mine. The Cesari's know their success is thanks to me and so they pay me incredibly well to stick around."

"So you're not drinking then?" John asked suspiciously, raising an evaluating eyebrow.

Harry rolled her eyes and scoffed. "No John, not since Molls and I switched places. It's hard to go out and get plastered when you're expected to come in at four in the morning and bake bread and pastries."

John nodded. "Okay. How's Molly then? Do you hear from her?" He licked his lips, trying to calm down.

"On occasion," she said, taking a seat on a crate next to her brother. "She rings me up, checks on me now and again, mainly asking after you. Today I'll ring her up and say that you know now." Her eyes softened. "She's worried about you, you know."

"Good. Well," John stood up, using his cane to steady him. "Glad things are working out for you two conspirators. Cheers." He walked slowly back to go out the way he came, but Harry, much younger than he and more agile, stood up and blocked his way. Her eyes glimmered with determination.

"I'm worried about you too, you twit," she said fiercely.

John frowned.

"How are you?" she asked sincerely.

"Good," John cleared his throat at the unexpected question as he readjusted his stance. "Fine. Good. Everything's fine."

"Everything's always fine with you," Harry snapped. "John don't you ever get mad? Mum-she's taking advantage of you. You look at the numbers the shoppe makes, don't you? So you know we're out of the hole now, right? So what the hell are you sticking around for?! You should be off, going to see the world-something! But instead you're here where she's got you slaving away! You're taking care of the shoppe all day while she's off spending the money the shoppe makes. She's got you wrapped around her manicured finger!"

John didn't deny any of it. He'd known for quite some time now that his stepmother didn't care about looking after the shoppe anymore. But he nonetheless defended her. "She's busy," He said instead. "I know she's busy. And besides, she's your mum. You shouldn't talk about your mum that way."
"Yeah, I know she's my mum, that's the trouble," Harry retorted with an agitated eyeroll. "I take too much after her, that's why I understand her. That's why she threw me and Molls out first chance she got.

"She knows how good you are and that you wouldn't leave us hanging if we were depending on you! But we're not! We're fine now, and she is just taking advantage of you! You're too-too-" she paused in annoyance, looking for the right word "-too crazy to be stuck in that shoppe all day! The John Watson I know wouldn't be wasting his life away here-"

"I'm not the John Watson you knew," John snapped. His eyes hardened, left hand beginning to tremor at his side. His body was betraying him; he felt exposed, weak by Harry's words.

There was a pregnant pause before John cleared his throat. "Listen do you have a back door? I have to get back to the shoppe."

They both knew he was lying.

Harry pursed her lips, but kept whatever comments she had from escaping and instead sighed loudly. "Yeah, I'll show you." She led him to a door at the opposite end of the room and held it open for him. John hobbled out through the back way.

"Tell Molly I say hello," he said as he hobbled past her.

"I belong here, John," she said as he passed. "You don't. That much is clear."

He didn't say anything as he continued to walk away from her.

"Think about what I said!" Harry called after him. "Go have your adventure!"