Saturday
1
We arrive at the house 15 minutes early at Sherlock's insistence. He stared at me the whole way over, saying simply that he enjoyed watching me drive; I suspect that it has more to with his keeping an eye on me. He's been doing a lot of that since we got here. Not that I can blame him exactly, I certainly don't feel like myself. At least not all of the time.
I'm standing against the car waiting on Troy. Sherlock had asked if I wanted to accompany him on his 'initial inspection of the perimeter' but I'd declined. I don't think I'm ready to go in there yet. Half of my childhood was spent behind those walls, and it was the half that I now remember in a clouded haze of pain and anger. Not at all the familiar warmth of the house I was raised in.
My mum's house, or rather mine and Harry's house, looks almost exactly the same as I remember it. It's been kept up very well. The bushes and the trees are taller and it's a little smaller than in my memory, but it's still home. This house, the Bensons' house, looks run down and forgotten. The plants are overgrown and wild, the lawn is patchy and full of weeds. The door to the small detached garage is missing or rather missing in places. It looks as if it was hit with a car or perhaps just fell off. I can see tools and boxes through the broken door that are clearly suffering from water damage and rust. I have a sudden urge to make sure Bella's things aren't among them and to rescue what I can. But I don't, and the urge passes.
I look for my husband and see him standing at one of the front windows pressing on the corners, seeing if he can get it open I assume. I suddenly remember something and share it with him. "When we were kids sometimes we'd go in the back door if Mr. and Mrs. Benson weren't home. If you pushed up and to the right on the knob it would open." He turns over his shoulder looks at me and nods. "Unless of course they've had it fixed," I add.
He huffs out a partial chuckle. "I doubt anything on this house has been fixed since before you were born." He presses on the window in a certain way and it pops open. I'm startled for a second before meeting his eyes. "That hasn't been opened in years." He pushes it back down, I hear it snap, and he starts to walk back towards me. He's brushing his hands together as he asks. "Can you describe the internal layout for me?" He stops in the middle of the lawn and looks back at the house. I wish he'd come and stand closer, but that's ridiculous - he can't protect me from the memories.
I nod, bringing up the memory and begin. I point to the far side. "There are two small bedrooms that span the length of the house on that side. When I was a child the front one belonged to Troy and their brother Matthew. The back one was Bella's." She'd open the back window and let me in sometimes or sometimes she'd climb out and we'd go off to the park or just to the bushes around the corner. The first time we ever had sex I'd climbed through that window. "The master bedroom is on this side of the house in the front, it's just off the living room, which spans the middle in the front." I point in the general area of the front door. Troy and I would sit on the floor in that living room and watch cartoons after school. His mom would make us biscuits and his dad would tell us stories about fixing cars. Sometimes we'd pick on Bella because she was a girl and we didn't like her. "There is a kitchen and small dining area in the back and the only bathroom is between the kitchen wall and what was Bella's bedroom."
He closes his eyes and I know that he is creating a map in his head. He'll adjust it once we get inside, but I'd imagine the one he creates will be fairly accurate. He opens his eyes and nods. He's done. "It seems like a rather cramped arrangement for 5 people," he says and I shrug.
"Probably, but it didn't seem like it when we were kids." And it didn't, we all knew that my house was larger, but we were perfectly comfortable in this one. Even when I'd spend the night and Mr. Benson would make us play with Bella.
I hear the engine just as Sherlock looks over my shoulder. I close my eyes, knowing it's him before I turn around. He always liked the loud cars. I open my eyes and see that Sherlock is closing the space between us and that the car is parking in the street. It's a Camaro from the 1980s. He'd always wanted one when we were kids. I wonder where he managed to find one, not that it could have been pricey or anything. It looked dilapidated.
I feel Sherlock's fingers trace my palm in the few seconds it takes Troy to open the door and step out. The small touch makes me release a breath I didn't know I was holding and I feel some of the tension leave my body. I glance over at him and he's staring at me. "At any point in time if you want to leave say so and we'll leave," he says quietly. I'm surprised, once he starts a case he's never willing to stop. But I guess this truly isn't a typical case. I nod and he pulls his fingers away.
Troy smiles as he looks in our direction. It is a smile of greeting, not of mirth. He looks exhausted and I guess that shouldn't be surprising given what he's gone through the last few weeks. He looks older, but then I imagine I do as well. I've accrued a lot of demons over the last 20 years. I'd imagine he has a few, too.
He closes the distance between us and offers me his hand. Warmth enters his features as he does so and he seems genuinely glad to see me. He has wrinkles around his dark brown eyes, which are almost black in the early morning sun, and there is a lot of grey mixed in within his natural brown. He looks like he's had a hard life. Lots of people around here have hard lives.
"John," he says warmly and I nod at him as we shake.
"Troy." I almost offer a typical, 'good to see you' platitude but it wouldn't be genuine and it wouldn't be appropriate given the circumstances. There is a second of awkward silence before we let our hands drop and I gesture towards Sherlock.
"Troy, my husband, Sherlock Holmes."
They shake hands and Sherlock does a quick glance up and down evaluating Troy. He doesn't like him, which is obvious - to me anyway. He probably never had any intention of even trying to like him. That makes me smile, just a little.
"Mr. Benson," Sherlock says sticking to formality. "I assume you can grant us access to this establishment."
Troy looks puzzled for a minute, I guess he expected pleasantries. Sherlock just cocks an eyebrow and stares at him. Troy looks to me. I offer a pacifying smile. "There's work to do," I say and Troy nods. We follow him to the door.
The interior looks almost exactly the same as I remember; most of the furniture is the same, from the worn and frayed sofa to the giant console television. Even the brown shag carpet is the same as I remember. It would itch our elbows as we lay on it. There are several modern additions as well, an iPod dock in the corner with giant speakers. A satellite reception box, DVD player, and DVR are sitting on top of the TV along with an assortment of remote controls. The pictures on the tables and walls are mostly different too, where a mix of Troy, Matt, and Bella used to reside there were now pictures of a baby and Stephanie and some of her friends. There were a few with the whole Benson family, not long after Stephanie's baby was born, It occurs to me that I don't know her daughter's name and I wonder if I really want to. I'm sure I'll find out soon. I pick up one of Stephanie holding her daughter, who must have been about 1. They both have huge grins on their faces and the blue eyes are shining on both.
"If it's a girl, we'll name her Stephanie after your mum, well not really after your mum, it's always been my favorite name for a little girl," she says sitting on the foot of the bed. She's so excited, almost bouncing off the walls. I'm still trying to catch up. How did this happen, we're always careful. Always use protection. "If it's a boy, how about after your dad, James?"
I look up at her and she frowns, "John?" She pauses looking at me seriously, "I am having a baby." I nod at her. It isn't as if I thought she was lying, I just, I just, I don't know how I feel I guess.
Scared, I'm scared that's what I'm feeling.
A baby. A dad. I am going to be someone's dad. How can that be, when I'm not an adult?
She's still frowning when I meet her eyes again. She's verging on angry, I can see the clouds forming behind those blue eyes. No one else in her family has blue eyes, or blond hair for that matter. The randomness of recessive genes can be fascinating. The baby could have blue eyes.
What the hell am I thinking I'm going to be a father, somebody's father? A human being's father. A parent.
My mum is going to be pissed.
"I, I am just, I don't know, surprised," I say and that seems to calm her somewhat. "How long have you known?"
Her frown alters for a moment, and she glances away from me. I don't like it, something feels wrong. I wonder if she's going to lie, has she known too long, perhaps…
"Only a week," she replies and meets my eyes again almost defiantly. "I thought you'd be happy we've talked about having a family someday."
Someday, I think, not now. I don't say it though. She won't want to hear it.
I nod at her, and close the distance between us on the bed. I cross my legs and our knees touch as I rest my hands on her thighs. "I'm just shocked," I say, "There's so much to think about, so much to do…"
I trail off and she smiles at me again, I always get lost in her smile. "We'll figure it out," she says leaning forward to place a kiss on my lips, and I feel the whispers of happiness and excitement forming in my belly.
We would never figure it out.
I set the picture down and look back around the room. Sherlock is looking a picture on the wall and Troy is pointing out the family members. Sherlock isn't actually interested in this information but is listening in hopes of getting more information that originally asked for. I wonder vaguely what exactly he hopes to hear but I won't ask. He'll let me know when it's time.
"…and that's my wife Gina and our kids Michael and Jeremy."
"Gina?" I ask and both Troy and Sherlock turn to look at me. "You got married to Gina?" I can't keep the hint of amusement out of my voice. I can't believe it.
"Yeah," Troy answers rather sheepishly. I let out a little laugh.
"Well I hope the two of you have calmed down some since then." This earns me a laugh and an odd look from Sherlock - he doesn't like not being included. "Troy and Gina dated the entire time we were teenagers," I say, "and they used to have these just horrible fights with screaming and throwing and it was hard to watch at times." I turn my attention back to Troy, "It ended though when she went off to school, right? America or Australia?"
Troy laughs and looks at the floor, crossing his arms. "Yeah, she went to the University of Chicago. We both moved on, she was engaged to a man from Nova Scotia and she was going to settle there and teach. I met a girl I was pretty serious about and well, you know. Then Gina came home for Christmas the year before she graduated and we ended up at the same party. Things just clicked back into place and she came back here to teach." He smiles over at me with a touch of pride on his face. "Married 16 years next March. It was the best thing I ever did."
I smile back and feel genuinely happy for a moment. I'm glad my old friend is happy. Then I begin to wonder if there was a hint or an allegation in his words, and implication that maybe I could have been happily married for a long time to, if only I'd married Bella. If only I'd been able to look the other way, or not done the math, or … I feel my smile fading and Sherlock clears his throat.
"Mr. Benson," he begins, "did Stephanie usually sleep in the master bedroom or one of the other bedrooms over here?" He gestures to the end of the house with the two bedrooms and Troy looks confused for a moment, probably because Sherlock hasn't been out of the living room to know the layout of the rest of the house. "I ask because I notice that your mother hasn't been residing with your brother and his wife all that long really, just since the birth of Stephanie's daughter. I was just curious if the arrangement was temporary or was the property turned over to your niece indefinitely?"
Troy frowns really confused now and looks at me. It's oddly surreal that I'm the safe beacon between Troy Benson and the giant crazy absolutely gorgeous genius. I smile and nod my head at him, urging him to answer. He looks back at Sherlock and does.
"Mum didn't fancy living with an infant again, and Matt and his wife have the spare flat behind their garage." Troy shrugs, "It's only got one room, but Mum figured it would do her and save Matt and his wife from the crying baby too. Stephanie was staying here and saving money to get a place of her own. She's a waitress at Mario's…" Sherlock looks at me.
"The pizzeria we passed coming into town yesterday." He nods and looks back at Troy wanting him to continue. Troy looks at me for verification, again, and I nod, again, trying not to roll my eyes.
"Well, that's it really. Oh, she um, still sleeps in the front bedroom there. Izzy's in the back one?"
"Izzy?" I ask and both of them look at me. Sherlock frowns, realising that I hadn't known.
Troy nods, "Yeah, Steph's daughter, Isabella. We call her Izzy instead of Bella though, obviously."
I nod, and manage a half shrug. I feel a wave of numbness again and Troy looks concerned for a moment. I wonder if I've turned ashen or something. Sherlock distracts him though, by having Troy lead him towards the bedroom. I settle on the couch and bury my face in my hands. Isabella, named after her grandmother. I take a deep breath and push the image of Stephanie in Bella's arms on the train platform out of my mind.
I sit for a moment before Troy re-enters the room. I look up at him and he's staring down the small hallway. "He kicked me out," he says turning to me.
I almost laugh at the shock on his face. Instead I shrug. "He does that sometimes." Troy nods and turns back to the hallway. "He's really good at this," I say, realising suddenly that this isn't just my old friend and this isn't just for fun. His niece is missing and he's genuinely worried.
Troy nods accepting my words before joining me on the couch. "I, um," he starts and looks in the general direction of Sherlock again, "I, um don't know how we are going to pay really? I mean you know we don't have much, even Matt who owns his own garage and the house…"
I start shaking my head. "Don't worry about it," I say and hold up my hand, knowing that he won't take charity. He's too proud for that. "Consider it a favour for an old friend. He's not here because of the case; he's here because of me. And I'm here because of Bella. So we'll call it square and walk away from this even."
He starts shaking his head, "What happened, what we, what I said…"
"I don't want to talk about it," I interrupt, louder than I anticipated, but he stops. "It was 20 years ago; we've both moved forward, looking back isn't going to help him find Stephanie. If at the end of this we're both," I pause, "if we are, we'll talk then." He looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to do it now, but lets it drop. I'm thankful for that. I'm about to say so when Sherlock comes back into the room. He's got the slight flush that investigating brings to his cheeks.
"Mr. Benson…" he starts.
"Troy, please," Troy interrupts and Sherlock frowns, not interested in the formalities or lack thereof.
"Fine, Troy. To whom was your niece closest to in the family?"
Troy frowns and seems surprised by the question. "Um, Mum I guess. Why?" Sherlock tilts his head slightly recognising something in the way Troy answered, but says nothing.
"I will need to speak with her, now if that's possible."
Troy looks between us, and then settles on me and not for affirmation. I realise something in his look and he looks down and starts to shake his head.
I lean back and feel my eyes widen in surprise. Sherlock looks puzzled in the split second before I say: "She doesn't know it's me." Troy stops shaking his head and buries it in his palms. "She doesn't know I am here?" I look up at Sherlock and he's still puzzled, but based on my reaction, he can figure out how bad this could be.
