Magpie: One for Sorrow
Chapter Nine
At first, Diane thought it would be best to leave him be for a while. After an hour, though, she started to worry. The boys were tracking him on the GPS screen- he'd gone outside. After a couple of hours, she decided that he must be getting cold, so she put on her coat and went out to get him.
He was sitting on the bench at the end of the long garden. A magpie that was investigating the lawn flew up to a large oak as she approached. She heard his reproachful chrrr, and raised her hand saluting the bird in reply.
"Why did you do that?"
She didn't look at Sherlock, but simply sat on the bench, giving him plenty of space. She watched the magpie. "Old wives' tale, I suppose. A single magpie is supposed to be bad luck if you don't do it. Habit…"
"Bad luck more for him, than you."
She was confused.
Sherlock sighed. "A bird that old would have had a mate for years. The fact that its calls aren't being answered means it's a widower."
"You're right; that's the reason why you're supposed to salute and say 'Where's your lady wife?' I'd forgotten that."
"Another superstition taught to you by your father."
She thought about it. "That one came from my grandfather. He was the one with the country lore. My nan was from South London- didn't know much about life down here. Her fiancé was killed in the war. Wanted to get away from the bomb-damage, so she married my dad on the re-bound. Fresh start and all that."
He didn't answer.
"Sherlock, it's decision time."
He huddled deeper into his coat. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You need to decide whether you want to persevere with me, or let Esther find someone else."
"What difference does it make?"
She caught the world-weary tone, the whiff of depression. The wind blew another gust of cold air- it was coming off the North Downs and she reckoned there would be a hard frost tonight. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. Despite the gloves, her fingers were feeling the cold.
"There is a difference. With me, there will be choice. All I propose to do is lay out some new tools and show you how they work. It's up to you to decide which ones you use. What I can guarantee is that none of them will be things you've done before. I'm not willing to play games. I meant what I said yesterday; there are no hoops for you to jump through. It's not about pleasing me, and I don't hold the key to your getting out of here- you do, you just don't know it yet. All I ask of you are two things, two conditions of working with me."
He sniffed. Then took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, a little clumsily, because of his gloved hands. "What?"
"The first thing is honesty. There is no point in pretending to follow this or that approach. I will know if you are just going through the motions. If there are things that you cannot bear to tell me, then so be it, as long as you are honest with yourself."
He wouldn't look at her. She saw him watching the magpie, which was still hopping about on the tree branches. She waited. He needed time to think through the implications. Despite the fact that she was freezing, she had to give him the room to make the decision.
The bird was eyeing them, tilting its head from side to side as if trying to get a better look at them. She guessed it was deciding whether it could resume its position on the lawn without fear.
"Why do you want to do this? Is my brother paying you a vast sum to put up with me?" She heard the cynicism.
Diane laughed. "I haven't met your brother. Not yet. And I haven't discussed a fee with anyone. In any case, I wouldn't charge you any more than I would any other client. If you want to know my motivations, that's easy. I am doing this because George asked me to meet you. Now that I have, I know I can help. If you are willing to try. That's the first thing I really ask of you. That you realise you need to try."
"Why bother?"
She heard the despair, the pain. This was the reason she wanted to work with him. Someone in that kind of pain needed help fast, or it would turn into something worse. Playing pass the parcel to another therapist would be an abdication of professional responsibility.
"You're worth it."
That made him look at her briefly in confusion. "How can you say that? You don't know me."
"Life is precious."
He snapped back at her. "That's rubbish. Verse 17 is proof enough even for the most stalwart Buddhist."
She had to rack her brain for a moment; then it came to her: Here he is tormented, hereafter he is tormented. The evil doer is tormented in both existences. He is even more tormented when he is reborn into a new life.
"Do you believe in reincarnation then?"
"Don't be absurd. I'm a scientist. I believe that the matter and energy of every living organism is reused, but there is no soul or consciousness that can survive death. One life is hell enough for me."
That conclusion frightened her, for his sake. The threat of being reborn in a lower form of existence kept the believer on the path. Without that, Sherlock would be cast adrift and might see his only way out in self-annihilation.
"Your death does not occur in a vacuum; there are ripples in the lives of those who care about you. Are you so cruel as to make them suffer again?" It was a risk raising this issue quite so blatantly, but his train of thought seemed to be spiraling downward. Unlike most suicides, Sherlock was in the unique position of being able to actually know the effect that his death would have on people.
Sherlock looked back at the magpie, which had flown down to the lawn again. It must have decided that neither of them posed a real threat. It was now strutting about, almost swaggering, fluffing out its pied feathers. She decided it was a most attractive looking bird, almost aristocratic in its demeanor, totally ignoring them as if they were beneath its dignity.
"You said there were two. What is the second condition?
She took some comfort from the fact that he hadn't said no yet, and was curious enough to ask for more data. "Whatever you do here will not last if you don't have the support of others after you leave. But, they won't know how. I'll hazard a guess that you think most of the people who care about you do it badly. Interfere, try to control you, tell you what to do. They make mistakes that make your life harder. If you agree to work with me, then you also have to agree to me working with them, too."
He tilted his head, as if perplexed. She was reminded of the magpie, investigating them to decide whether they were dangerous.
"No one should care about me; I don't."
She smirked. "They do. Get over it. Learn to live with it."
"Human error on their part."
"Maybe, but nothing is going to convince me that you aren't human either, and capable of making the same mistake."
He didn't answer. Sherlock was watching the magpie, which had now hopped onto the lowest branch of a hazel tree. It churred again, petulantly.
"Aren't people supposed to learn from their mistakes?"
"Yep. That's why I need your permission to work with them."
His brow furrowed. "And would that involve telling anything of what happens between you and me?" The suspicion was so thick she could have cut it with a knife.
Diane chuckled. "No, of course not. But the reverse is true, too. You don't get to know a single thing about what happens between me and them either. If you or they want to share something, then it has to be done between you."
"Who's them?"
She had thought about this, and talked it over with both Esther Cohen and George. "Let's start with the three people whose lives you saved by being seen to kill yourself: Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade and John Watson." She waited for a reaction, hoping that it wouldn't be the same as Esther had seen when Sherlock mentioned his friend yesterday.
"You'd have to add his fiancé Mary into that." He stopped, as the magpie let off a racket of chattering.
When the cacophony stopped, Sherlock continued, "He might not agree, given his commitments now."
"According to both George and Esther Cohen, they had to forcibly eject John Watson from here before you woke up. He wants to be involved, and Mary's right there beside him saying she does, too."
Sherlock did not reply.
"I'll add into that mix your brother."
He started chuckling. "Good luck. I'd give anything to see that little scene- you telling him that he's got it wrong all these years."
"Maybe you both have. Progress is only really possible if you all recognise that each of you is doing the best you can at this, but that everyone has got to change if improvement is to be made. Whatever has happened in the past, it is possible to change the future, Sherlock."
"Saying that makes it sound easy."
"It isn't. Think of this as the hardest thing you've ever done, but it will work."
"How can you know that?"
"Because you have done so in the past, and you will again, with the support of those who care."
The magpie flew from the hazel back to the lawn, but its behaviour changed. It brought the loose white feathers on its flanks over to cover its black primary flight feathers, and it fluffed out its shoulder patches. The effect was to accentuate the white. Diane was bemused by the attention that Sherlock seemed to be paying to the bird. "What's up with the magpie?"
He spoke very quietly. "It's trying to attract a new mate."
"How do you know?"
"Ssh." He lifted a gloved hand to silence her
She listened as the big bird began a soft call, quite different from its usual chatter.
From a tree behind them, another smaller magpie appeared, dipped low over the lawn and then landed in the same hazel that the other one had recently occupied. It was clearly listening to the one on the lawn, investigating.
She glanced at Sherlock, who now had a tiny smile.
The new magpie dropped to the lawn and came up to the other one. She watched in amazement as the two birds did what could only be described as a chest bump.
She giggled. Without thinking, Diane recited the rhyme, "One for sorrow; two for joy."
The bigger bird raised his head feathers, ended up looking like a punk, and then lifted up its long splendid tail, opening and closing it like a fan. The smaller one crouched and opened its black beak in supplication, begging for food. The bigger one obliged by picking up a twig from the lawn and putting it into her beak.
Her laughter startled the two birds. The bigger one flew away. After a moment's hesitation, the smaller one followed.
"Was that the bird version of a chat-up line? Get started on building your nest, woman!"
Sherlock shrugged. "To each, their own. Did you know that the magpie's brain-to-body ratio is the largest in the avian world? In fact, it's bigger than almost all mammals, comparable to cetaceans and great apes."
She was surprised. "Are they as smart as humans?"
"Maybe we can be as smart as they are."
She was struck by that observation.
He stood up from the bench, and took two strides away. Then he stopped and looked back at her, his brow furrowed. "Well, are you coming?"
Diane realised that the rather churlish request might be indicative of something rather important. "By asking that, does this mean you agree to my two conditions?"
He rolled his eyes. "I would have thought that was obvious." He turned away and started towards the manor house.
When she got up and followed him, she was smiling.