"Thank you, Martha."
Mary had woken at Holmes' surprised yelp, and she watched sleepily from the settee as Holmes tried to scowl at her words. The hand gently inspecting his eye rather ruined the effect, however. He would have a glorious shiner in a few hours. Mrs. Hudson packed a painful punch.
"You would have done it, too," she replied, "if you were able."
"Of course, and I might still do it later." Mary glared mildly at where Holmes stood near the other chair. "The pain of two black eyes does not begin to repay three years of grief."
"Though this does explain why the elder Mr. Holmes kept up the rooms for this long," Mrs. Hudson added, still glowering at him.
Holmes huffed but made no answer, and I limped to the door to ask Ivy for some ice. I had just bought a supply yesterday, and there should still be enough to prevent his eye from swelling shut. Mrs. Hudson focused on me—or, rather, the child on my arm—as I returned.
"Have you chosen a name, yet?" she asked immediately, arms out in a request to hold him. I complied before sinking into my chair as she adjusted James' slight weight.
"He is James Sherlock Watson," I replied, my mouth stretching into another proud grin.
"I hope he is not as idiotic as our other Sherlock," she grumbled, obviously still irritated. She stared at him for a moment as James began suckling in his sleep. "Is he supposed to be so small? He is much smaller than my nephew was."
Her nephew had been born nearly a fortnight late. James was the right size considering his early arrival, and I nodded.
"He will grow quickly."
"I simply hope he is always this easy," Mary said. "Do all newborns sleep this much, John?"
"Some do," I answered, grinning wryly. "It does not indicate a problem, and it certainly makes it easier for the parents to sleep."
Mary chuckled, and Mrs. Hudson released a faint smile, still too aggravated with Holmes to laugh. Ivy arrived with a piece of ice in a hand towel, and Holmes begrudgingly held it to his cheek.
"He is perfect, Doctor," Mrs. Hudson said with a sigh, casting me a questioning look as Ivy left again. When I nodded, she leaned back in her chair but refocused on Holmes. "You, however." She scowled. "I am not pleased with you. I suppose you were going to show up in my rooms sometime tonight, probably picking my lock and demanding tea?"
He shifted uncomfortably, and I smothered a grin. Mrs. Hudson had announced his plans exactly.
"That is what he tried to do here," I said, unafraid to keep talking despite the way he tried to scowl at me. "He followed me home from the courthouse, picked my lock, and probably planned to abandon his disguise halfway through a conversation, but James was already staging his arrival when I got home. Holmes said nothing when I mistook him for the maid and sent him for supplies."
"You mistook him for Ivy?" Mary asked.
I shrugged. "He never spoke, and I never looked up from you. It could only have been him, though. Ivy was not even home. She met me in the hall when I went to throw out the towels, far too breathless to have done anything but run to and from the courthouse in search of me." I glanced at him, and he nodded in silent confirmation. "I heard him in the doorway behind me," I continued, "and sent him for water, towels, and blankets, and I saw him put the supplies on the table, but I did not notice more than that the hands were familiar. I thought Ivy had brought them then left the room."
I would have stopped there, but Mary spoke before I could change the topic.
"When did you finally notice him?"
I hesitated, ignoring the understanding, then regret, crossing his face as he deduced my answer. "After he returned from the kitchen," I finally answered. "He leaned against the wall behind you for James' arrival."
"You were less likely to throw something at me while focused on the arrival of your son," he interjected. "I did not expect you to ignore me even after the excitement was over."
I simply shrugged, but Mrs. Hudson glanced between us, not following his meaning. "You ignored him?" she repeated. "He probably liked that better than my response."
Probably, I decided. Ignoring him as a hallucination did not blacken his eye, at any rate, but movement registered a moment later. I glanced over in time to see Holmes shake his head.
"I expected you to hit me," he countered, watching to see if I would understand.
If he had expected a black eye, ignoring him should have been a welcome surprise. I made no reply.
"I would have deserved it," he admitted with a sideways glance at Mrs. Hudson. Vindication appeared in her expression, but she remained quiet, watching to see if I would answer.
I did not.
"You ignored me even after Mary had settled with James," he continued, "and you did not even look at me when I spoke." He paused, watching me. "Why?"
I tried to frown at him, irritated he was forcing the topic. He knew it was impossible to hit a ghost, and it was bad enough he had deduced my thoughts. Why should I have to voice them?
"How often did it happen?" he asked quietly.
Mrs. Hudson looked down at James, and I knew she had realized what he meant. She had suspected for a while, anyway, but I had managed to deflect her attention the few times she asked over the years. I would probably hear from her later for hiding it for so long.
"Watson?"
He was far too stubborn, but I could think of no way to change the subject.
"Don't worry about it," I finally said gruffly, standing to poke at the fire again despite my leg's painful protests. I used to enjoy Holmes' ability to deduce my thoughts, but now I wished he could not. He did not need to know the struggles I had faced after and because of his absence. It was bad enough he—and Mary and Mrs. Hudson—now knew just why I had not believed my eyes.
I ignored the spasms shooting up my leg with nearly every step, but Holmes came up behind me when I nearly lost my balance.
"Sit before you fall, Watson."
His timing was impeccable. Long fingers threaded around my arm, and Holmes tightened his grip just as my leg tried to dump me on the floor. I scowled at him, more irritated that he had seen it coming than that my leg had buckled.
"Stubborn," he muttered, helping me back into my chair.
A laugh sounded from Mary's place on the settee. "You did not expect that to change, Sherlock."
He could not quite cover his amusement, but I spoke before he could.
"He cannot say anything," I answered her, still scowling at Holmes. "I doubt he should be supporting my weight with that shoulder injury."
Mary immediately frowned at Holmes, and his amusement faded behind partially feigned irritation.
"Were you going to let me treat it?" I asked.
He huffed. "Probably not. It is not that bad."
I rather doubted I would agree, but I did not have the chance to say as much.
"Martha?" Mary said, "Would you get John's bag? It is probably behind me."
It was, and James never moved as she placed my bag within reach and returned to her chair.
"Show me," I ordered, already inventorying my supplies.
He hesitated, glancing at Mary and Mrs. Hudson, and I frowned at him again. He had forced an uncomfortable topic in their presence; there was no reason we could not do this in their presence, too. Mary had helped me with a patient many times, and Mrs. Hudson had seen us in a variety of states over the years. He hesitated for only a moment longer before carefully peeling his shirt away from a dirty bandage on his right shoulder.
"What did you do?"
Removing the bandage revealed extensive bruising plus a shallow but inflamed laceration along his shoulder blade, and he barely smothered a flinch when I began cleaning the gash.
"I had to cut through an alley to lose a tail," he answered, grimacing when I prodded a tender spot. "The wall had a piece of metal sticking out of it, and I did not have enough room to avoid it. I have tried to keep the wound clean, but…" The words trailed off with a half shrug, but I knew what he meant. He could not see the injury, and he may not have been able to reach it, either. He continued after a moment. "I fell on it the next morning, hence the large bruise."
"You probably bruised it down to the bone," I told him, anchoring a fresh bandage, "and the cut is trying to get infected, but I think we caught it early enough. I will just need to watch it for the next few days."
He nodded and quickly readjusted his shirt, and another long silence settled over the sitting room. I found myself staring at Holmes again, still amazed that he was here, that he was alive. I looked away when he caught me, unable to put my thoughts into words, but he caught me again a minute later.
"I will not disappear, Watson."
"You had better not," Mary shot back, "or I will hunt you down and put you in charge of watching James until he no longer uses nappies."
Disgust appeared in Holmes' gaze, and I could not completely stifle a laugh. Mrs. Hudson replied before I could.
"That is not a good idea, Mary. Don't you remember the story of the first time they had an argument at the table?"
I knew I did. A true argument had morphed into a feigned argument, and supper had been the easiest projectile weapon available. Mrs. Hudson had decided Holmes had started it, but blaming him had not prevented her from nearly doubling our rent that month. It had been worth it, though Holmes and I had never told Mrs. Hudson that.
"James does not produce enough ammunition," Mary answered flippantly, obviously enjoying the revulsion in Holmes' face. "Besides, Sherlock knows he would be the one cleaning it up."
He would at that. Mary might not be able to cow Holmes quite as well as Mrs. Hudson could, but she was just as formidable, given the right reason.
Holmes made no reply, and James started fussing. Mrs. Hudson passed him to Mary as silence fell again, and I could not refrain from staring at Holmes once more.
He was far too thin, though I could not say much. Mary had been on me to eat more in recent weeks, and while I had avoided telling her just why I had lost my appetite, I doubted I had changed as much as Holmes had. He had always been lean, but I did not remember the weeks he had spent chasing Moriarty making his cheeks so hollow. His clothes were slightly more ragged than he preferred even for a disguise, and when he had helped me into a chair, I had noticed his shoes had been mended so many times they were more patch than shoe. How much danger had filled these last years?
"Watson?"
I refocused to find him watching me. I tried to pretend I had not been staring, but he frowned anyway.
"I think it is 'later,' Sherlock," Mary said before he could ask again. She gently readjusted James so she could turn on the settee. "How did you survive the falls?"
He continued frowning at me for a moment longer, obviously reading at least some of my thoughts on my face, but he slowly settled into his chair.
"I have some knowledge of bartitsu, as you know," he started, still watching me even as he warmed into his story. "Moriarty appeared minutes after you were out of sight, Watson…"
He went on to describe a tense wrestling match above the cliffs, in which he only narrowly avoided following Moriarty over the edge, then continued through how he had escaped the cliffs with Moran trailing him. He tried to skim over some of the details until Mary frowned at him, and all three of us occasionally interrupted with a question. Ivy served luncheon, then tea, I canceled an appointment, and James miraculously slept through most of it. With Mary forcing him into giving much more detail than he would have volunteered, Holmes described long treks through the mountains, people he had met, things he had done, and identities he had assumed.
I listened intently as the hours slipped by, trying to picture the years he had spent alternately pursuing and being pursued by Moran. When we had taken rooms together, I had been the well-traveled one despite his better breeding, but my friend was now much more traveled than I.
I wished I could have been with him for at least some of it, but I could not bring myself to be angry. He had come back. That was truly all that mattered.
Maybe someday I would tell him what I had done these last three years.
And that one's finished. Hope you enjoyed! :)
as always, thanks to those who reviewed last chapter. YoughaltheJust, i agree. Holmes totally deserved that, lol