At handover the next morning he was distracted. The nurses, thankfully had avoided mentioning his late night visit to Sherlock, saying only that Sherlock had been upset in the evening and had required additional sedation. The general consensus though was that things were going well, and if they continued this way then they could start planning for discharge in the next few weeks. Talk then moved on to other, more challenging patients.
Walking to his office to check his mail before his 9am appointment, his secretary handed him a message. The director wanted to meet him in his office at 9.30.
'I've got a patient,' he told his secretary. 'Can't he make another time.'
'I've rearranged them for this afternoon,' she told him, 'he said that it was important.'
Walking into Dr Simmonds office half an hour later, he was surprised to see another man sitting in the winged armchair opposite the desk. A spare chair stood waiting for him to occupy it .
'Ah James.' Dr Simmonds said. 'I don't think that you've met Viscount Holmes, Sherlock's father.'
The words of Dorothy Parker came to mind, 'What fresh hell is this.' An interesting choice under the circumstances. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something.
The two men shook hands, and James Harrison tried not to let his disconcertion show on his face, as he tried to work out what was going on. Was this a chance visit? A father come to see his son, or had Mycroft Holmes told him about their conversation of the previous evening, and was that the reason for his visit. Only time would tell.
'I've been filling Viscount Holmes in on Sherlock's progress,' Dr Simmonds was saying. 'He's been very concerned about him.' But not concerned enough to visit, James Harrison couldn't help thinking.
'Dr Harrison,' Viscount Holmes cut in, obviously not a man who had time for pleasantries. 'I'll cut to the chase. My son, Mycroft has informed me that you have certain concerns about incidents that you have uncovered in Sherlock's medical records, records incidentally which our local GP had no knowledge were in your possession. How did you gain access to them, out of interest?'
'They were delivered to me by courier, yesterday afternoon.' James Harrison said calmly, 'I have to confess that I was surprised to see the originals. A summary, or photocopies are more usual, but I had requested them weeks ago, on Sherlock's initial admission, so I assumed that the GP had sent them.'
'It would appear not. Do you still have the packaging that they came in?'
'No, it went in the bin and I imagine would have been emptied by the cleaner this morning.
'We'll look into it,' Dr Simmonds said.
'Dr Harrison I understand that you are concerned that Sherlock has had in his life too many, and inconsistent injuries for them to have been received accidentally. You have therefore, not unreasonably surmised that someone must have inflicted them on him. Did you ever consider that there was a third explanation, namely that he inflicted them on himself?'
'On himself? What are you saying?'
'I am saying, Dr Harrison that my youngest son has what can most charitably be termed an overactive imagination among his other more unusual personality traits. My late wife did nothing to discourage him from this. From the time that he was at preparatory school he fabricated injury, and implied to anyone who would listen that I was the perpetrator. Thankfully the majority of the time this was recognised as what it was. There was an unfortunate incident a few years ago when he told a teacher at his preparatory school that I had whipped him, and the teacher duly reported it to social services. When investigated it became clear that Sherlock had in fact inflicted the injuries himself, with the aid of a block of wood with nails inserted into it at semi-regular intervals. He had, it would seem, attached this to the wall and scraped it down his back to produce injuries which would look like lash marks. I imagine that he still has the scars.'
'He does,' James Harrison said quietly, trying to work out who to believe.
'Statements were taken from household staff at the time, and from my eldest son, Mycroft, all attesting to Sherlock's behavior, including eye-witness accounts from some of the staff who had seen Sherlock inflict these injuries on himself. The most dramatic of these incidents was the one leading up to his admission when a groundsman saw him throw himself out of a tree, then climb back up and throw himself out again to ensure that the job was done properly. I have a statement about that also.' Viscount Holmes handed the document wallet of papers to James Harrison, whose head was now going round in circles. What was truth and what was fabrication he now had no idea.
'I apologise, Dr Harrison. I should have realised that this was information that you would need, but I never imagined that Sherlock would continue his attempts at deception in here.'
'He didn't' James Harrison said, resisting the temptation to read the papers here and now. 'He remembers very little of events prior to his admission. But he has been having nightmares.'
'Nightmares about me?'
'Not exactly. Viscount Holmes, I am sorry, but I can't discuss the details of Sherlock's therapy sessions with you without his consent.'
'But I am his father. Surely I have a right to know?'
'Sherlock is sixteen years old, and is entitled to make his own decisions about that.'
'Then perhaps it is best that I talk to my son about it directly.
'I'm not sure thats such a good idea.'
'Why? Because his nightmares are about me?' James Harrison could see where Sherlock got his intelligent from, and realised that Viscount Holmes was a formidable opponent. 'Surely he has a right to make up his own mind about whether he wants to see me?'
'Of course,' Dr Simmonds was saying smoothly. 'Is there anything else that we need to discuss?'
'I would just make sure that you are clear, Dr Harrison,' Viscount Holmes said, 'that what Sherlock says or believes to have happened, and what actually happened have not infrequently in the past been very different. I have been reluctant to term these delusions or paranoia in the past, but given his current illness I am beginning to wonder if this may not have been the case. Some of his fabricated injury occurred in an effort to persuade me to let him go and stay with her mother during her prolonged visits to the South of France, and some of his more colourful accusations against me seem to have been related to this wish. Now I would appreciate it if you could take me to see my son.'
