Chapter 13

-July 22, 1901-

The Beach House, Isle of Wight

It would take the assembled group of holiday makers about an hour after lunch to get changed into their swimwear and gather all items they intended to take along. Barok had offered the buckets and trowels he had happened upon in the stable cupboard to Iris after breakfast, and the girl had warmed to the idea of building a sandcastle right away, thanking him profusely for the suggestion as well as the tools, which had been all the reward he could have hoped for.

Upon leaving his room after putting on the new swimsuit he had acquired a few days prior to their departure, he found that he and Asogi favored the same style – not too loose, of a solid black color with only one broad red stripe at the bottom hem of the sleeveless top and the drawer legs where they ended halfway down the thighs, respectively.

Sholmes had opted for a set that was covered in horizontal white and blue stripes, apparently made of comparably light fabric, and concealed most of his upper arms and thighs, and Albert was wearing a similar set, except the stripes on his were white and red. As for the young women, Iris had put on a pink swim costume with large black polka dots, while Lestrade had chosen a similar cut in solid emerald green.

When the junior inspector caught sight of Asogi, she gave him a thorough once-over, apparently in favor of what she saw. Meanwhile, Albert averted his eyes after taking in Barok, causing him to wonder if he had in some way offended his friend's sensibilities.

Then, he realized that his current choice in clothing did, in fact, leave some of the other marks Albert had hypothesized about yesterday afternoon uncovered – the old scar from his scuffle with the law faculty student boors back in university was now bisected by a larger slash he had acquired more recently, and on his other side, the top end of an injury to his ribcage from a few years ago peeked up past the arm cutout.

I hope the sight doesn't make him too uncomfortable.

Everyone turned toward Sholmes when he clapped his hands together once after looking in the round with his customary half-smile.

"Since we all appear to be as prepared as we're ever going to be, shall we make for the waterfront, my dear fellows?"

When no one lodged any objections, he glanced over at Barok, gesturing at the corridor leading into the house's main hall. "If our magnanimous host would lead on…"

Suppressing a sigh, Barok simply nodded and took point.

After leaving the house through the front door and walking past it on the right side, the group reached the narrow footpath leading down to the beach from the outcropping the building was perched on.

Barok had asked Hall after breakfast to put up the three large sun umbrellas stowed in the rarely-used communal bathing chamber across from Sholmes's bedroom – while he personally was fairly unlikely to get sunburnt in spite of his light complexion, he doubted that all of his companions were similarly blessed. Furthermore, it would be pleasant to have a few shady spots in which to rest after a bout of activity without having to return inside, especially since there was next to no breeze to temper the early afternoon heat today. Hall had also placed large blankets on the sand in the shaded areas, and even thoughtfully left two metal canteens presumably holding drinkable water under every umbrella.

Upon leaving the path and setting foot on the beach proper, Asogi immediately sped up his steps until he was running toward the sea, never slowing down as water splashed up around him until he had reached enough depth to dive forward, momentarily vanishing under the surface. A second later, his head surfaced once more in a spray of drops and he shouted out his elation.

"Come on in, everyone – the water feels great!"

Sholmes promptly smiled down at his ward. "No time like the present, isn't that right, Iris?"

"Exactly, Hurley!"

With that, the man and the girl likewise waded into the water together, albeit nowhere near as far out as Asogi – Sholmes stopped walking the moment Iris was covered up to her armpits and turned toward her. Since they were not too far out, his voice carried enough to be understood by those still remaining at the beach. "Now… do you remember the movements I showed you?"

"Of course!" The girl proceeded to lean forward, her arms stretched out in front of her, and began to perform basic swimming motions, albeit a little too fast and arrhythmically.

"More slowly, Iris – let the water carry you."

In the meantime, Asogi had returned to shore, approaching Lestrade and flicking some remaining droplets from his fingers at her. "What're you waiting for? Look, Toby is already having fun chasing bits of seaweed!"

Indeed, the pup was prancing around in the surf, exuberantly barking at anything moving near him and clearly having the time of his young life. While it was difficult to determine what breeds he united within himself, at least part of his heritage must be some sort of retriever.

The young woman, meanwhile, snorted. "I dunno which one of ya is 'appier in the water. We ain't all some sorta otter though."

"Meaning…?" Asogi raised an eyebrow at her.

"When 'n where d'you think I'd've learned 'ow to swim, eh? In the bloody Thames?!"

"Oh. Yes, I don't know that I'd recommend swimming in that voluntarily." The Japanese man grimaced slightly for a moment. "Well, the water's nice and calm today, and it's definitely cleaner than the Thames, so… want to give it a try?"

"Oh, I s'pose – that's wot I got this fancy shift for, innit?"

Once the two young people had made for the water, Barok turned toward his friend, as they were now the only members of the group remaining on dry land.

"Shall we join them?"

To his surprise, a hint of red appeared along Albert's cheekbones at the question. "I, erm… perhaps I should stay here and watch, instead."

"You'd prefer to not cool off?" Barok was puzzled. His friend had not seemed averse to the thought of entering the water yesterday, and considering that two non-swimmers had already ventured into the sea, he doubted that this was to do with a lack of aptitude when it came to deeper water levels.

"That's not it, I just…" Albert looked away. "I bought a book on the island and the surrounding waters, and I was reading some of it before bed. Have… have you ever been stung by a weever?"

He's concerned about run-ins with the local fauna?

While Barok supposed that it made sense, considering his friend did not seem too comfortable around any animals not commonly kept as pets, he had to admit that he had not foreseen this particular obstacle.

Smiling at Albert, he replied, "Not once, and neither has any one of my family members, in spite of bathing in this spot for many years. Additionally, I'm fairly certain Iris has brought her first aid kit, so if injuries to any of us should occur, she would be on the case immediately."

"… Yes, I suppose I'm being quite silly, aren't I? You wouldn't suggest going into the water if it was in any way hazardous." His friend returned the smile a little sheepishly. "Granted, I'm also in the same boat as Miss Lestrade and Iris in regard to my lack of swimming ability, as it were, but they're not letting that stop them."

"There is no shame in that, if you've never had need of this particular skill before, and I'll gladly show you if you'd like to learn," Barok assured him, reaching out to place his hand on Albert's shoulder. "Of course, my intent isn't to make you do anything you don't want to do, but I think that this particular experience might prove to be more satisfactory than yesterday's horseback ride – and if you should find yourself in a hazardous situation even though this area doesn't feature any dangerous currents or creatures I'm aware of, I'll be right by your side to help you."

Something in the way Albert's smile widened at his reassurance was singularly captivating.

"You're right, of course. Well… shall we?"

Chuckling, Barok began walking down towards the shallows, his friend by his side.

As they waded in deeper and deeper, water covering first their calves, then their thighs, and then everything below the waistline, he had to agree with Asogi's assessment – the sea was just this side of too cold, the contrast with the warmth of the air pleasant in a way it likely would not have been the day before. Next to him, a slight shiver seemed to run through Albert, although if his relaxed expression and the way his eyes closed in bliss were any indication, it was not one of discomfort.

There you are. Enjoy yourself – there's nothing to worry about.

Glancing over at the other two pairs nearby, Barok found that Iris was coming along nicely where her swimming lessons were concerned – she was able to hold herself above water and move into any direction she pleased without any further help from Sholmes. Asogi, meanwhile, was still doing his best to convince Lestrade that, while a specific set of motions certainly facilitated the act of staying afloat, she did not have to do battle against the water at all times if she placed some trust in her natural buoyancy, instead.

Turning back toward Albert, he asked, "While I am, of course, not opposed to simply enjoying cooling off in this manner, would you be interested in a few basic swimming lessons, considering that it seems to be something of a theme today?"

"Perhaps I should give it a try – after all, you never know when it'll come in handy, do you?"

"While I hope that you won't experience any emergencies where it would be absolutely necessary, the attempt certainly won't hurt." Barok remarked with a wry smile. "Let's go out a little further – while you should still be able to stand, you'll also need enough room below you to not accidentally go to ground."

Half a minute later, they had made it to a spot where the water came up all the way to their chests, a good nine or ten yards further out than the area where Lestrade and Asogi were conducting their practice.

"All right then… I've seen the basic motions a few times, and of course I know that the human body is naturally buoyant, but perhaps it would be best if you could demonstrate the form to me, and then let me know what I should fix when I try," Albert suggested when their glances met again.

"Of course. Observe." When he was certain that he had his friend's attention, Barok pushed away from the ground with his feet, arms stretched out ahead of him, and proceeded to swim around Albert in a circle, careful to showcase the arm and leg movements of the basic breast stroke technique as clearly as possible.

Once he had reached the spot where he had started out, he moved to stand once more. "There you are. In case you're interested in any pointers, I'd recommend to keep your mouth closed and your head tilted back so your face stays above water unless you pick up a significant amount of speed – it'll help you to keep your breathing regular and to avoid accidentally swallowing water."

"Haha, you're making it look so easy…!" Albert smiled over at him, a curious hint of red showing along his cheekbones.

"It isn't particularly complicated – if I recall my own learning process correctly, the main difficulty tends to be that non-swimmers initially believe they have to fight the water to keep afloat. Just relax, keep breathing, and don't be too hasty with your motions," Barok advised, motioning for his friend to begin his own attempt whenever he was ready.

"Well, here I go…" With those words, Albert did his best to mimic his movements, and while his arms initially splashed down onto the water surface with far more vigor than necessary, he did keep himself afloat under his own power. However, his posture was more than a little reminiscent of a prawn – he kept his legs at an angle as though he was trying to hedge his bets and remain in readiness to stand back up at a moment's notice.

Keeping his eyes on his friend's first stab at swimming, Barok commented, "Your arm motions are good, but straightening your legs would make it a bit easier to keep up your rhythm and move forward."

"Huh…? But my legs are str… pblpht!" When Albert attempted to answer, he promptly took on a mouthful of sea water and immediately aborted any attempt at regular movement, instead struggling to stand while spitting and coughing out the unwanted payload.

Suppressing a grin, Barok stepped up to him to pat his back a few times until the coughing fit subsided. "Are you all right?"

"Ah, yes, quite." Sending him a rueful smile, Albert quipped, "I suppose there is my lesson on why I should keep my mouth closed while swimming."

"Unless you'd like to sample the Channel waters again, that would be for the best," Barok teased, although he made sure to not derive amusement from the situation too visibly in order to not dissuade his friend from this endeavor. "Would you mind terribly if I aided you in correcting your posture a bit more directly…?"

"Well, since telling me didn't go too well, let's see if it'll help!" Nodding, Albert made to begin his second attempt, letting out a surprised noise when Barok placed his palm up against his abdomen after a few strokes.

"You can probably feel that your shins are at a significantly lower level than my hand is right now, when ideally, they should be at about the same level," Barok instructed. "Give lifting them a try."

This time, Albert merely nodded slightly while doing his best to follow the advice, although he first had to recover the rhythm of his motions, given that they had first stalled and then set back in a little too vigorously upon feeling Barok's touch.

However, only a few minutes later, his friend seemed to have got the hang of it, his body now in the mostly-horizontal position that made swimming in this manner relatively effortless.

Barok was about to step back and cease his support for the time being to see if Albert would be able to maintain this posture without guidance when his companion suddenly sent a panicked glance across his shoulder, his motions stalling yet again.

"S-Something touched my leg! What is it?!"

Frowning, Barok redirected his glance toward Albert's feet, but could not make out anything out of the ordinary.

"I'm not certain what you felt, but I doubt it's anything to get worked up abo-"

"There it is again! Please make it go away!"

With a speed Barok would not have expected him to be capable of, his friend rolled around in the water to get away from the sensation that had discomfited him, grasping at Barok as though he was trying to climb him like a ship's mast. Before he could tell Albert to calm down, Barok felt himself stumble backward, unbalanced by the sudden weight holding on to his torso. A moment later, both he and his friend were completely immersed in water, Albert's eyes widening in another bout of panic as he suddenly lost direct access to air. Now, he did begin to struggle against the liquid all around him, his arms flailing about in his attempt to locate and move toward the surface, the back of one hand brushing against his own face and knocking his spectacles off his nose.

All but automatically reaching out to catch the frame of his friend's glasses before they could sink far enough to be out of his limited field of vision, Barok wrapped his other arm around Albert's waist to pull him up and moved to get his feet back underneath him, straightening once his soles had found purchase on the sandy ground. A second later, both of their heads cleared the water surface, Albert once again wracked with coughs as he expelled the fluid that had got into his nose and mouth.

Holding on to his friend until he had once again managed to resume breathing without spitting out another gulp of water, Barok inquired quietly, "Will you be able to stand on your own?"

"Y-yes, I should be." Coughing once more in an attempt to rid himself of the hoarseness marring his voice, Albert's eyes widened yet again when he realized that there was something missing from his face. "My glasses! I must have lost my-!"

"Here you are." Raising his other arm, Barok produced the spectacles for his friend, who immediately reached for them.

"Oh, thank goodness, I don't know what I would've…"

He trailed off at feeling an unfamiliar sensation draping itself over his nose. It turned out that a strip of seaweed had caught on the frame at some point during the glasses' sojourn through the water, and was now intent on decorating the length of Albert's face.

"… This is it. This is the thing that touched my leg!"

Staring at him for a few long seconds, Barok did his best to suppress the sudden urge to laugh at the whole situation as he raised his left hand to remove the piece of detritus from his friend's glasses, carelessly flinging it behind himself.

"Well. The monster has been vanquished, although I suppose you've chosen the wrong companion to protect you from seaweed – next time, I would recommend bringing Chief Inspector Toby along, who is always on that particular case."

Back in the shallows, the pup had apparently heard his name being mentioned, as he looked up from whatever he had been stalking and let out a joyful bark.

Barok and Albert looked at each other, and burst out laughing at the exact same moment.

"Now that we have survived our brush with calamity, should we return to the beach for a while before trying again?" the former suggested once he had himself reasonably under control again.

"That sounds like a good idea – a drink of water that isn't salty or brackish would also be nice." Albert reached up to wipe his face with his palms, still unable to stop chuckling.

"I can imagine. Shall we, then?"

Offering Albert his arm in an only somewhat facetious gesture of ensuring his friend would not get to sample yet another taste of the Channel, Barok began walking back towards the shore as soon as Albert's hand had settled in the crook of his elbow.

The assembled group would remain by the seaside until a breeze began to set in at around five in the afternoon, causing everyone to agree that a return to the house to clean up before dinner would be a good idea.

The Halls got to work heating up water for bathing right away, pronouncing both the tub in the bathroom shared by Barok and Albert and the one in the communal bathing chamber ready for occupation half an hour later. It was immediately decided that Iris would be allowed to initially make use of the latter while Barok and Albert attempted to cede the first bath to each other for multiple minutes before the former gave up on the amiable argument by stating that if they went around and around any longer, neither one of them would find the water warm anymore.

After locking the bathroom doors, placing his clothes for later on the rim of the sink, and ridding himself of his swimsuit, Barok leaned back in liquid warmth with an involuntary sigh of pleasure, his muscles relaxing as he allowed his head to become submerged for a moment. Removing all the grime he had accumulated on his skin and in his hair over the course of this afternoon would require a thorough soaping-down, but for now, he was content to just soak for a moment.

Once they had spent about half an hour sitting in the shade of one of the sun umbrellas together after Albert's Attack of the Killer Seaweed, they had returned to the water for another attempt at swimming, this time without any sudden incidents interrupting the lesson. Naturally, the earlier episode had led to an abundance of good-natured ribbing from Lestrade, Asogi, and Iris, but since Albert, too, had been readily laughing about the matter, none of it had seemed hurtful in any way.

When his friend had stated that he had begun to feel somewhat worn-out, they had retreated to the beach again. Shortly thereafter, Albert had been roped into Iris's first stab at a sandcastle, and the project had in short order turned into an endeavor positively dwarfing anything young Barok had ever constructed, requiring almost two hours to reach completion and featuring intricate turrets and battlement walls crafted from carefully wetted and packed sand, decorated with seashells and stones, its highest points reaching up to Barok's midriff. Thankfully, Sholmes had thought to bring a camera along to take a picture of the finished work alongside its two builders proudly standing and kneeling behind its lower sections, and had promised copies of the resulting photographic print to all who were interested.

All in all, it had been a very enjoyable afternoon, one of a sort Barok had not experienced in the last decade.

Coming here was a good decision.

Sitting up once more, he reached for the soap to complete cleansing himself before Albert would have to make do with tepid water for his own bath.

A mere fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of his room dressed in only a shirt, trousers and a simple pair of Oxfords, as he found he could not be bothered with putting on a waistcoat, his boots, or any other cumbersome accessories when they would not leave the house again today and likely only take dinner before most would opt to retire for the night. Considering that the others had already beheld him in his swimsuit for the majority of the afternoon, he sincerely doubted that a less revealing, yet still casual set of attire would lead to sudden onset of the vapors among his companions.

Entering the sitting room, he found Albert on the sofa and chatting animatedly with Iris, whose hair was for once released from its complex braids; at the moment, Sholmes was perching on the piece of furniture's armrest with a hairbrush, carefully drawing it through the almost-dry long tresses to find and release any snags or tangles in the process of forming, his own damp hair left to its own devices in the meantime – not that it was likely to require an excess of work.

Barok took a seat in his usual armchair before raising his voice. "Albert…? Feel free to claim your turn in the tub now."

When his friend turned toward him, he immediately realized that Albert may have spent a little too much time in the sun – the skin of his face and arms was reddened even half an hour after returning inside.

Perhaps it's for the best that he didn't go first. The water would likely have been hot enough to sting considering his already-sensitized state. Hopefully it'll calm down a bit overnight.

"Ah, all right… I'll see you in a bit, then."

After her conversation partner had risen and left the room, Iris glanced over at him with a smile, and for a moment, it felt as though he was looking at his sister-in-law – the same long, strawberry blonde hair, the same calm expression, shown to be at least partially a front hiding the potential for mischief by the lively spark in her turquoise eyes…

She truly is the spitting image of Beryl. He could barely believe that there had been a time when he had been acquainted with her, albeit fleetingly, yet still completely in the dark as to her parentage.

"How was your bath, Mr. Reaper?"

"Quite pleasant, thank you. I hope yours likewise met with your approval?"

"Oh, yes – while bathing in the sea was also lovely in the hot weather we've had today, it's always nice to clean up with soap and a good scrubbing brush!"

After her response, the girl appeared to study him a little more closely than usual before speaking up again. "Funny… now that your hair is freshly-washed and not all combed back, it actually makes you look a little like Hurley."

Barok snorted at her observation. "Coming from you, I suppose I won't take this as a slight, although I now find myself wishing that I had gone through the motions of restoring my regular hairstyle."

"I don't think you have cause for concern that anyone might mistake us for one another, my dear fellow – in all other aspects, we are quite honestly as different as day and night," Sholmes contributed his own opinion in return, curiously without any hidden barbs Barok could detect even upon recapitulating in his thoughts.

"Perhaps that state of affairs is for the best," he answered out loud, causing the detective to nod serenely.

"I quite agree – if everyone was the same, the world would be a depressingly boring place, indeed."

"Also, if there was more than one of either of you, London might be nothing but a crater by now," Asogi, who had been quietly sitting in the armchair by the window up to now, decided to join the conversation with a grin.

Barok sent him a thin, razor-sharp smile in return. "Says the right person to make such a remark."

His assistant raised his hands with a chuckle, symbolically conceding the point. "Touché."

At that juncture, a freshly-bathed Lestrade entered the room, causing Asogi to rise.

Bowing toward Barok, he intoned, "And with my ego now duly punctured, I shall withdraw to be the last in line to see to my hygiene needs. If you would excuse me…"

The young woman, who had been in the process of approaching the Japanese man, stopped walking and sent him a dirty look. "'E's bein' a right arse again, ain't 'e?"

"Aren't I always…?" Smirking at her while passing her on the way to the door, he stepped out into the hallway after throwing over his shoulder, "See you at dinner!"

His last remark apparently reminded Lestrade's stomach of the fact that it had been a while since it had received so much as a snack, as it promptly grumbled loudly.

"Ugh, did 'e have to talk about dinner? I could eat an 'orse!"

"In that case, please stay away from the stable over the next half-hour or so," Barok quipped. "Particularly since Mrs. Hall is already working on the meal, if the scent from the kitchen is any indication."

"Oh, I s'pose I won't bite a chunk out of that giant beast you've put in there yesterday, then!" With a chuckle, the young woman went to sit down in the now-vacant armchair.

Mrs. Hall indeed came to call them to the set dining table just minutes after Albert and Asogi had returned from their respective baths, and everyone ate heartily; for once, not only Lestrade moved on the food as though she feared imminent starvation, proving that they all had expended their share of energy over the course of the day.

After they had collectively demolished dessert, the six holiday makers resettled in the sitting room with cups of chamomile tea, which Mrs. Hall had prepared for them before she and her husband had departed for the evening.

Iris never finished her cup, as she was leaning against Sholmes on the sofa only a few minutes after this final quiet gathering of the day had commenced, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Naturally, the detective did not fail to notice how worn-out his ward was, as he turned toward the girl and stated quietly, "It might be for the best if you went to bed, Iris."

"But it's not even half past eight yet…" Perhaps her protest would have been more efficacious, had it not come out in a fatigued whisper and ended in a wide yawn.

"Be that as it may, I foresee two outcomes to this discussion: Either you retire for the night now, or you'll nod off within the next ten minutes while trying to argue against it. Wouldn't it be a little nicer to say good night to everyone and get comfortable, instead of being put to bed by someone else when you're already unconscious?" Sholmes smiled down at her, his expression one Barok had only beheld once for a fleeting moment at the end of the dinner meeting that had resulted in their being here now.

"Mhm, you're right…" Iris forced herself upright and tiredly smiled into the round. "Today was so much fun, everyone – let's all go to the beach again before we have to return to London! Good night!"

Apparently, the remainder of her energy reserves were quickly fading, however, as she was once again leaning against Sholmes while her companions wished her a good night in turn. Finally, the detective maneuvered his left arm into a position to where he could pick her up as he rose. "Here, let me assist you – the way you're acting, I might find you curled up in the hallway otherwise."

"Yes daddy…"

The words of the half-conscious child, spoken as she was being carried out of the room, did sting for a mere moment, but this time around the initial impulse of anger on Klint and Beryl's behalf was doused by the sobering realization that, ultimately, Barok's reactions were far more likely to be guided by his own envy of the cordial familial bond he was bearing witness to.

The circumstances being what they are, this is how it should be. He was permitted to be in her life in spite of the fact that being around him still carried a certain amount of danger, as the episode in April abundantly proved. It would have to be enough.

Barok only emerged from being lost in thought when he noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Albert was also rising from the sofa.

"I should probably also retire for the evening – curious, I'm not usually tired this early…"

"Spending extended amounts of time in the water does tend to lead to surprisingly strong fatigue thereafter," Barok pointed out. "Additionally, I think you may have got at least a slight sunburn, which can also lead to tiredness. Usually, that situation will improve on its own quite quickly, but if you find the itching and burning which may fully set in tomorrow too obnoxious, let me know – I happen to have some remedies for that state on hand."

"All right. Good night, Barok, Mr. Asogi, Miss Lestrade…"

Only a short time after Albert had withdrawn from the sitting room, Asogi, who was standing by the window looking out onto the front yard, leaned over the backrest of the armchair in which Lestrade sat, and asked, "While I'm not about to fall unconscious, how about we take care of your reading practice for the day now?"

"Blimey, an' 'ere I thought you'd forgotten!" The young woman rolled her eyes.

"Not likely. C'mon, you said yesterday that you liked Treasure Island!"

"… Oh, I s'pose I want to know what'll 'appen once they get to that island…"

Barok returned their nod when they passed him on their way out the door. Personally, he thought that Lestrade learning how to deal with reading and writing from his assistant was an excellent idea – Asogi's command over the English language was, frankly, impressive, and considering that he had had to acquire it as a foreign tongue after his earliest childhood days had passed, he would likely still recall how he had learned to sound out words. Not only that, he apparently also knew how to pick reading material that was not too difficult and yet of interest to the young woman.

Pondering for a moment whether he should also withdraw to his bedroom for the night, he ultimately decided against it – he was not in the mood to settle down with a book, and sleep was still a ways off at any rate.

Perhaps I should indulge in some music and a few drinks. If these things did not manage to mellow his current restlessness, he could always opt for leaving the house for a quiet stroll along the beach at dusk when the sun began to set in in another hour.

He had just risen to make his way to the study, as he had deposited his recent liquor purchases there, when, at the doorway, he almost collided with Sholmes.

"Ah, my dear fellow – were you about to go to bed, as well? I thought to return here after seeing Iris off into dreamland for another spot of company, but it seems everyone decided to emulate her."

"… No, if you must know," Barok answered after a short pause, stepping around the detective to approach the blind end of the hallway, where the wall of family portraits and the locked door of the study were located.

Turning his back toward the paintings without even glancing at them, he reached into his trouser pocket to produce the key as, behind him, Sholmes spoke up again.

"In that case, would you be opposed if I kept you company for the time being?"

Barok's motions stalled just when he had placed the key in the lock.

On one hand, he would probably prefer any of the other people currently present in this house over the detective to join him for quietly winding down, especially after his earlier realization.

On the other, while Sholmes would probably accede to his wishes if he explicitly told the man to leave him alone, solitude seemed even less appealing.

"Do as you please."

Now proceeding to unlock the door, he entered the room, hearing the other man's steps follow him.

While he was still very much on the fence whether he wanted to spend time with the detective, he then decided that it would behoove him to at least not be outright boorish to a guest who, at all, had done a lot for him, even if his personality was obnoxious more often than not.

"Would you care for a drink?"

"Please."

Barok poured two glasses of the fine cognac he had selected for himself, handing Sholmes one of them, then turned toward the gramophone in the corner, selecting a record and lowering the needle onto the disc grooves. A moment later, the dulcet tones of Tchaikovsky's violin concerto op. 35 began sounding from the speaker, engaging yet soothing.

Taking a sip from the glass remaining in his hand, he stepped over to the large window facing eastward, glancing down upon the beach and spying Iris's magnificent sandcastle in the distance.

Behind himself, he heard quiet shuffling noises indicating that Sholmes was familiarizing himself with the room in his usual manner: Removing books from the shelf behind the desk, leafing through a few pages, then replacing the volumes, taking a look at the small assortment of bottles on the side table after picking them up, then putting them back down, reading the labels of the sleeves housing the musical records. It felt a bit intrusive at first thought, but then again…

I don't have anything to hide, and if it amuses him so, let him be. At least he had not yet begun surmising about where the bodies of his victims were hidden, like Naruhodo and Iris had in his office last year.

Eventually, the noises ceased, replaced once again by quiet footsteps.

"I'm rather fond of this piece, myself."

Sholmes had come to stand by the window next to him, likewise glancing outside while raising the glass to his lips.

Only glancing over at his companion quickly after this utterance, Barok redirected his attention to the scenery of the Isle's east coast. "I commend you on your taste in music."

He found himself mildly surprised when the detective did not use his remark as a springboard into self-aggrandizement.

Instead, Sholmes mused after another pause, "Magnificent, isn't it, that we're able to enjoy the performance of a whole orchestra far away from a concert hall."

"Quite – technology has certainly liberalized access to art, both in spatial and monetary terms," Barok allowed. "Of course, it will never fully be able to replace the splendor of witnessing a live performance."

"You're not wrong, my dear fellow, but ultimately, there is space in people's lives for both, isn't there?"

Somehow, Barok got the impression that the man next to him was not merely talking about the music anymore.

This time, the silence between them, filled only with the wordless melody sounding from the gramophone speaker, lasted far longer, until Sholmes once again took the initiative to speak up quietly, his voice barren of its usual jaunty verve.

"Would you mind terribly if I let you in on something I have observed today?"

Barok had to chuckle slightly at that. "Considering that you did ask for once, I will do my best not to run for the hills while you unburden yourself."

It felt as though his expression froze on his face when his current companion spoke on.

"Throughout the day and our various activities, I occasionally got the impression that, while you certainly didn't feign your good humor throughout, you were contemplating what this holiday would be like with… different… fellow travelers."

Well. I suppose he isn't completely inept when it comes to deducing matters. Obviously, Barok had failed to contain his expressions sufficiently to not provide the detective with the evidence required.

Sighing, he took another sip of his cognac before responding, his gaze resolutely trained on the window. "While less than becoming of a host, I have to admit to as much."

"It's to be expected, I think," Sholmes returned. "This property has been your family's since before you were born, most likely, based on the art and furniture. You'd associate many a memory with being here with people who are no longer with us… and you'd appreciate sharing their company with someone who is, yet remains unaware of her own connection to those people."

Barok's jaw clenched at these words, speaking of sympathy without outright pity or condescension. There was no use in pretending any longer – the man had seen right through him.

Not trusting his voice for the moment, he nodded once, his eyes closing in defeat. They only opened again when he felt a hand squeeze his left shoulder before falling away again, but the detective was still glancing out of the window, and held his peace.

Perhaps it was the unusual decorum Sholmes displayed tonight that caused Barok to think back on his reflections earlier this evening, as well as on the various run-ins they had had in previous months.

"Regarding the last discussion we had without others present… I'd like to apologize for the presumptuousness I displayed that day. I have since received… additional information… pointing out to me just how misguided I've been."

The other man's reaction to this statement was more than a little surprising: Instead of responding right away, he lowered his head slightly, not in the customary overdrawn sulking gesture, but in a way that clearly expressed inner conflict, his free hand rising to touch his forehead.

Eventually, he moved to glance at Barok, his expression so unrelentingly open that his companion could barely believe he had ever thought the man to be incapable of anything but frivolity.

"Lord van Zieks, you were hardly the only person in the room who behaved discourteously on that occasion. I was not as forthcoming as I could have been with my answers, as you probably noticed. The truth is… when you sought to learn more about her from me, I suddenly found myself concerned that you were preparing to claim custody of her. You would be well within your rights, and I would have no recourse – all it would take would be a sworn testimony from Asogi about what Mikotoba told you that evening in November."

Barok immediately shook his head at that. "That was never my intention. Doing so would endanger her right away."

After all, if those ruffians back in April had known of a young girl who was a personal relation of his, they would have likely ambushed her rather than him in order to make their point. She would become a target of attempted kidnappings, attacks, and intimidation campaigns, all in a bid to hold sway over Barok professionally.

However, to claim that this had been his only reason since becoming better-acquainted with the girl would amount to lying to both Sholmes and himself.

"And besides…" he added more quietly, "She'd never forgive me if I were to try and take her away from her home. Or you."

"And I'd never attempt to keep her from claiming her heritage, once we both decide to inform her of her parentage, for that matter," the detective assured him in turn.

The earnest statement caused Barok to chuckle bitterly. "As tainted as the heritage you speak of has become, it would likely be best for everyone involved if the line ended with me, at least officially. Don't misunderstand, she won't want for anything for the rest of her life while it's within my power to see to that aspect, but Klint as well as I have placed a curse on the van Zieks name – he with his deeds, and I with my repeated failures to do what would have been right. She should never be tarred with this particular brush."

"Well… once she knows, you'll be able to discuss it with her and see what she has to say," Sholmes replied, his smile small yet genuine. "After all, as we both know, she's not one to not follow through on something once her mind is made up."

"Ah yes, I had noticed that." Barok shook his head with a snort.

After another sip of cognac, he turned to glance out of the window once more.

"Since my word choice was rather unfortunate the last time I broached the topic… thank you for raising her. She's a splendid girl, and I fear that I lack expressions to adequately convey my gratefulness to you. I know Dr. Mikotoba likely told you of my inquiry of why he didn't inform me earlier so I could have taken your place, but…" He could not help but sigh before continuing. "… But I could have never hoped to foster her half as well as you have."

"I think you underestimate yourself, my dear fellow," Sholmes asserted at that. "While I wouldn't claim that caring for a child is without its share of challenges, particularly for single men such as ourselves, I'm sure that you, too, would have risen to the occasion."

"If you say so, I suppose I shall take your word for it." Personally, Barok had his doubts in that regard, but continuing to bellyache over what could have been was neither productive nor particularly becoming.

They spent the next few minutes in a silence that was, for once, completely bereft of tension, savoring their drinks while viewing the gradually darkening sky and listening to Tchaikovsky.

When Sholmes eventually excused himself for the evening, Barok did not remain in the study for much longer, either – he suddenly did find himself in the mood for quietly reading for a while before going to sleep.