A Boy In Need
Chp 10
So sorry for the wait! Don't kill me! Check out the rp! That is all!
Hamish Watson-Holmes was no fool, and (at least in his own eyes) was no child. One of the greatest offenses you could possibly commit in his eyes would be to think him too young or too naïve to understand something. Matters only got worse if you also happened to be one of his fathers. He knew better than to think his dad was attacked randomly, or that some random occurrence would inspire his father to fly them away to some remote place his uncle owned during the middle of the school term. However, if you're clever like Hamish, then your suspicions will only increase when your intended plane to take you on your supposed vacation is blown up before you or any of the other passengers can board.
His father was in such frenzy over the situation and they spoke very little in those days. His dad tried to comfort him, tried to explain it away to set his mind at ease. It only served to anger the boy further. He did not like being left in the dark, especially if whatever was happening had put his dad's life at risk. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to him that they not fill him in, he was certain that he could help if they just let him.
Despite the elaborate security systems in place it was relatively easy for Hamish to escape every now and again, so long as he wasn't gone for too long. His uncle's summer home was large and it was conceivable that he spend hours at a time out of sight from his parents. Not that they were likely to notice. His dad was busy helping his father or sleeping off his injuries and his father… well that was something of a spectacle. His father was in rare form, which was saying something given how eccentric he could be. He was constantly working on this case that Hamish was not allowed to know of, and when he wasn't wrapped up in that he was ranting about his brother's lack of security, or acting as though his husband was about to break in half, or (when they were near enough) sending Hamish pained looks. Even given his own frustration with his father at the time, those looks did send pangs of guilt through him. His stubborn nature made apology impossible, but he did long to take back what he'd said at the hospital.
However the boy was on route to visit Reta while he considered the past three weeks and wondered what his father would say when he found out. And he would find out. Hamish had no illusion of that. When one lives with a great detective such as Sherlock Holmes they realize that it is only a matter of time before you're discovered. If he could manage not to get caught until this case blew over then he was sure that he'd be fine. Reta said it was unlikely they'd discover him while they were so distraught, and she encouraged him to make more frequent visits as the case continued. He blushed at the thought of her being so eager to be in his company and often found himself with sweaty palms as he knocked upon her door.
She had purchased him a bus pass to aid in their visits and he held the transport pass as though it were a vow. A promise that he would see her as often as his uncle's flawed security would allow. Fortunately that was rather common, which struck him as odd given that it hadn't been in the past, but it seemed that everything was becoming odd since the case began. Reta promised she'd explain today, she'd already explained a great many things, but she could see how badly Hamish wanted to know about what his father was up to and promised to explain on their next visit.
It was true that he wanted to know, he wanted to find some way to prove to his father that he could be just as brilliant, that he could help protect the family, but part of him was worried. While he was grateful Reta had informed him about some of the secrets his fathers had kept, he wasn't sure all of the information was what he wanted to hear. He'd been hurt when she'd revealed that his mother was now married, currently residing in America with her husband and three young children. His half siblings. He'd seen her once or twice before, and it was odd to think that his own mother had been so close and he hadn't even known it. Did she care? She seemed to like her new children. Perhaps it was because he'd been a mistake; she was going to give him away. Reta had found an adoption contract that had been discarded.
He pushed the unpleasant memories aside and remembered why he was there. He wanted to help. More than proving to his father that he was more than just a painter, he wanted to prove he was a fighter like his dad. That he was brave, that he was something worth mention. Intelligent like the famed detective and courageous like the tenacious army doctor. If he could prove to them his worth than perhaps they'd stop hiding things from him.
The boy gave a confident knock on the large doors of the manor and gripped his hands behind his back as his father so often did. It didn't take long before the butler saw him inside and he waited anxiously in the sitting room for Reta's arrival. She was never on hand, never waiting for him, this was something he'd come to expect. If he was honest he enjoyed the sense of chase. She invited him over often, but she was never desperate for his attention, he had to seek her out as well. When she came down the stairs with her chin up and eyes sharp he felt his heart pick up. She had to be the most brilliant and confident girl in all of Britain, she certainly looked it. When she entered the sitting room she smiled in her usual coy manner before taking a seat next to Hamish on the expensive looking sofa and ordering some tea from the butler. Once alone she smiled at the boy a second time.
"You're early, feeling a bit eager?"
She asked mockingly and arched her eyebrow in the way that made Hamish shiver.
"Well, I leave at the best possible moment, I didn't want to risk being late as the alternative."
Hamish clarified and cleared his throat, hoping that it wasn't too obvious just how excited he was to see her again. She smiled knowingly and reached into her dress pocket for what looked like a newspaper clipping.
"I did as you asked; I looked into the case your father took the day I found you out in the rain."
Reta stated as she handed the boy the neatly folded article. Hamish looked down and skimmed the report. There had been a murder, very hush-hush; it involved a wealthy woman though. The government wasn't saying much, though that said a lot in itself.
"That's unfortunate, seems there wasn't much to find. Too bad, better luck next time I suppose."
Hamish sighed playfully as he tucked the newspaper clipping away in his trousers. Reta took her investigative skills very seriously, and while he doubted that was all she'd found, it was still amusing to upset her. She glared at him half-heartedly before letting out a scoff.
"Hardly. I know far much more than anyone should and less than I'd like-"
"Now that's unusual."
"No interrupting… this case is a peculiar one indeed. I can see why your father is so caught up on it, the killer is quite clever."
Reta explained in her usual illusive manner.
"Oh really? More clever than my father? I highly doubt that."
Hamish remarked with a laugh. No one evaded his father long, not even the Moriarty fellow who seemed to have caused well… an awful lot of things if Hamish was honest.
"You shouldn't."
Reta replied darkly as she observed the boy with her cold black eyes. Hamish paused for a moment, lost in her stare before shifting uncomfortably.
"Why? My father is the greatest detective of all time, he's a genius."
Hamish said carefully as the butler served their tea and promptly left the room again.
"There seems to be a new genius on the horizon I'm afraid… it can't come as much of a surprise to you. Honestly there was bound to be someone who would come along."
Reta said smoothly as she reached for her tea and sipped it calmly. Hamish could feel himself go a bit pale. The thought of someone being smarter than his father frightened him and it explained the way his parents were acting. He wished very much that Reta was wrong.
"My father will catch whoever it is, he always does. Besides, killers want to be caught when they're clever, they like to boast."
Hamish said evenly, trying to convince Reta as much as himself and he nodded firmly to drive the thought deeper into his mind.
"This is no ordinary killer, she does not seek such trivial things, and if I am correct (which I always am) she is an artist in her own rights… like you."
Reta retorted and set her cup back down on the coffee table that looked like it belonged in a royal palace. Hamish wasn't sure how he felt about being compared to someone who had killed a woman, or about Reta calling it an art form, but her unique perspective intrigued him.
"Art? Well, I suppose death is a medium of sorts… are you sure we're not just dealing with some deranged psycho? Might be a bit soon to be claiming artistic talent just yet."
Hamish commented lightly, hoping to bring the topic off such morbid things.
"I'm not so sure, I think I have a pretty good idea of just how talented this woman is."
Reta said smoothly and pinned Hamish underneath her sharp stare and the boy swallowed heavily as he was trapped in her eyes. He had a feeling things were beginning to get very interesting, perhaps a bit too interesting for his own good.