Chapter 19

-December 18, 1901-

Barok van Zieks's Flat

If Barok had harbored any faint hopes of his emotional affliction diminishing as the weeks since his last visit to 221B Baker Street went by, he was thoroughly disabused of this notion by the time mid-December arrived.

Oh, he was able to see to his work, particularly when he handled matters unrelated to the slowly approaching forensics symposium, but when his concentration waned in the mid-afternoon, he had taken to excusing himself a good hour before the official end of the workday, once it was clear that no new tasks would turn up on his desk.

The moment he arrived home, however, he found himself beset by a weighty listlessness that rendered most activities impossible – reading led to restlessness, but attempting to go for a stroll in turn seemed to engender an inexplicable reticence to so much as put on his boots once more. As a result, he found himself nodding off in the study more often than not after putting on some music, retiring to bed soon after having dinner and taking care of personal hygiene.

Barok had a sneaking suspicion that he was to blame for at least part of his inability to firmly set his sights on the future, as he had developed one particular habit before attempting to go to sleep: He withdrew the photographic print of Albert and Iris posing with their sandcastle on the beach from the drawer of his nightstand, allowing himself to bask in memories of that summer day while taking in his friend's carefree smile. At first, doing so had helped him to settle down enough to sleep through the night, but by now, he found that he either suffered nightmares or ended up staring at the ceiling in the dark for hours on end if he did not indulge this new idiosyncrasy.

Curse my weakness. If only he were stronger-willed, able to let go of things that were in the past, perhaps he would already be capable of again visiting with his friend without concern that his feelings might endanger Albert's standing and livelihood.

Thus, the days passed, one much like the next, interrupted only by seemingly never-ending weekends sequestered in his study by himself with a bottle of wine.

Marsters, used to Barok's occasional bouts of moodiness after having served him for over 15 years, had initially taken this behavior in stride without a word, but had recently begun sending him concerned glances before leaving the room. Asogi, meanwhile, had asked him to his face whether he had thought about seeing a doctor this Monday just when he had been about to leave early yet again, earning himself a testy "Mind your own business" before Barok had pulled the door shut behind him.

Wednesday arrived much like all weekdays had for a while. After arriving at the office, Barok took a look at the recent correspondence regarding the symposium, penning responses to those that had requested one. His assistant, currently in preparation for a case, occasionally raised his voice to ask a question, and Barok answered curtly, but without annoyance – so long as Asogi kept to professional topics, he saw no reason to be unpleasant to the man.

Once again, it became more difficult to stay on task after lunch, and after writing a short progress report in regard to the forensics event for Puisne, Barok put down his pen and rose to his feet.

"Asogi, will you require any further assistance today?"

"No, my Lord – this case shouldn't require too much time in court tomorrow morning, either. I should be back here before midday." Obviously, the man had already realized that his mentor's question indicated impending departure.

"In that case, I look forward to hearing of another success." Nodding at Asogi, Barok closed the clasp of his cloak and took his leave.

Returning home from the office was only a matter of a short walk. Before long, he was seated in his study yet again, thoroughly disheartened by staring at the same books, the same walls, the same furniture and decorations as every single day but also lacking the vigor necessary to move about after having selected his music for the afternoon. When Marsters entered to inquire whether he would like some tea, he had the man retrieve a bottle of wine and a glass for him instead.

It isn't like it matters – I'm not going anywhere until tomorrow morning, nor am I expecting anyone. He would sit here until dinner, eat, cleanse himself, and try and likely fail to sleep through most of the night, as every single weekday recently.

However, today should, in fact, turn out to be different from previous days, when, at around a quarter to five, Marsters let himself into the study once more and bowed.

"My Lord, it appears you have a visitor."

Raising an eyebrow, Barok placed the wine glass on the desk in front of him. "Are you certain that said caller means to speak to me? Perhaps they mistook this address for someone else's."

"Ah… no, my Lord, that seems quite unlikely – she asked for you by name."

'She'?

Already certain that he knew just whom he should expect, Barok sighed. "Very well, please show her in, and have Mary prepare some tea, after all."

"Right away, my Lord." The butler bowed once more and left.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was accompanied by a rather nervous-looking Iris, who raised her hands to her mouth in apparent shock the moment she beheld him.

"Goodness, Barry, you look absolutely terrible!"

The flabbergasted look Marsters shot her at this declaration was enough to get Barok to chuckle slightly for the first time in weeks.

"I had an inkling."

The girl seemed to find no humor in the situation regardless of his dry response, as she immediately pulled the glove off her right hand and strode over to him.

"Here, let me feel if you've got a temperature…"

Obliging her as he knew that she would not let this go otherwise, he leaned toward her to allow her to hold her palm against his forehead for a moment.

"No, no fever… do you have a cough? Or do you hurt anywhere?"

"Neither, rest assured," Barok responded. "I've merely not been sleeping too well for the past few weeks."

"Huh, that seems to be rather common these days…" Iris muttered while apparently pondering something, but did not seem inclined to elaborate.

In the meantime, her host glanced over at the butler, who was still standing by the door and observing them interact.

"Marsters, the tea, please?"

"Oh… of course, my Lord." His servant bowed and left the room.

Turning his attention back toward the girl once they were among themselves, Barok asked quietly, "Now… what brings you here today?"

"Well I… I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk a little more about… about our family…" For a moment, Iris seemed almost afraid to broach the topic.

Somewhat baffled by the nervousness once again resurfacing in his niece's expression, Barok replied, "If you'd like…"

At that point, Marsters returned, carrying the teapot, two cups, and a small assortment of finger sandwiches Mary had apparently likewise prepared on a tray.

"Thank you. Please leave the entire tray on the desk. Since we have some private matters to discuss, I'd prefer we weren't disturbed for about an hour."

"As you wish, my Lord." If his butler was surprised at the request, it did not show in his features when he bowed and took his leave.

Once the door had closed behind his servant, Barok pointed at the chair intended for his rare visitors on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat."

While she followed his invitation, he poured tea for both of them while carefully observing her. There's still something she's concerned about.

After they had both taken a sip, he inquired, "Were there any particular topics you wanted to touch upon?"

"Well yes, there's something I've been wondering about…" Iris visibly took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "My mother… she died giving birth to me, didn't she?"

"According to Professor Mikotoba, that appears to be the case," Barok affirmed, wondering where she was going with this question.

"Then, then… why didn't you know she was pregnant with me? It sounded like you had no idea until Professor Mickey told you what happened!" Somehow, this seemed to be a matter of great importance for the girl.

Sighing, Barok closed his eyes for a few seconds as he recalled those horrid weeks eleven years ago.

"I hadn't met Beryl in a few months – she'd spend most of her time at the family manor in Norfolk, where Klint would join her every weekend. I presume that he told her of his crimes after Stronghart set him on his mentor, at which point she would have barely begun to show, and they decided to hide that she was with child to be able to dissociate you from these incidents. I received the report that she, too, had passed on the day after Klint was interred… it only stated 'natural causes' as the cause of death."

He glanced over at Iris, doing his best to weather a sudden wave of guilt at not asking any questions at the time.

"As devastated as I already was, I didn't think to look into the matter further. To be entirely honest… I suspected that she chose to take her own life after learning of Klint's death, and that the local Devon police opted to hide this fact behind a euphemism so she could receive a proper burial."

In fact, learning of Beryl's passing had been the catalyst for Barok to flee the capital for the beach house on the Isle of Wight – he had not been able to bear being around colleagues and acquaintances right after suffering the loss of the only two family members he had had left. There, Grant Hall or one of this relatives had seen to providing meals and any necessary housework during the first half of the day, and would then leave him to his own devices at his own insistence until delivering an already-prepared dinner in the evening. The weather had been as unstable as he had felt during those five days, storming and raining at a moment's notice, the sea crashing into the beach below with a dull roar during high tide… somehow, it had helped him to fully feel the grief, to rage against fate, to come to terms with the fact that, from this time forward, he would have to stand alone.

"I… I see… that must have been terrible for you…" Iris appeared perilously close to crying when she glanced over at him. "And… learning about me just when Runo uncovered that my f-father was the Professor…" Her lower lip began to tremble. "It must be so hard for you to so much as look at me and think back on all that…"

When the first tears started to roll down her cheeks, Barok felt a hint of panic rise within him. What did one usually do with a crying child?

Console her, you dolt!

Before he knew it, he was kneeling down next to her chair, raising a hand to touch her heaving upper arm. "No, Iris, that is far from everything I think about when I look at you, and seeing you does not make me unhappy – please…"

From one moment to the next, she was hugging him tightly, moisture from her face soaking through his shirt's fabric where her cheek met his shoulder. Unsure what else he could say to make her feel better, he simply held her in turn.

Thankfully, his presence appeared to be all Iris required to move past her sudden bout of sadness – her sobs gradually decreased in frequency and severity until she was resting against him, all cried out.

Eventually, she muttered close to his ear, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that… I thought I'd done what we promised and considered all the different feelings I've had since we last talked about them, but maybe there were still some things I didn't want to think about, and, and… it's still all so confusing…"

"You don't have to apologize for that," Barok returned quietly while fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket, drawing back slightly to be able to gently dab at her cheeks. "You have every right to remain confused about things, and there's no deadline by which you have to have it all sorted out."

If such a deadline did exist, I'd have overshot it by years at this point.

"Thank you, Uncle Barry, b-but… I think one of the reasons it's so difficult is because I made it more difficult… with The Hound of the Baskervilles and… with Dr. Wilson and that autopsy report…"

'The Hound of the Baskervilles'? Oh, that must be the story she wrote based on notes from Sholmes's investigation of the Professor murders…

However, the second reference left him at a loss.

"Autopsy report?"

"Yes, I…" Iris sighed and looked away, clearly discomfited by whatever she was about to tell him. "A few years ago, I was visiting Dr. Sithe's laboratory with Hurley. A little while before that, I'd asked him who wrote all the case notes in our large chest in the sitting room because they weren't in his handwriting, and he just told me it was 'a dear friend who happened to be a specialist of forensic medicine.' So, while Dr. Sithe and he were chatting and not paying attention to me, I was taking a look at her filing cabinet and, and I found this old autopsy report written with the same handwriting, and it was signed 'John Wilson'…"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath that sounded for a moment as though it might segue into a sob. "I deduced from that report that Dr. Wilson was my father, as well as Hurley's partner during his investigations, so I told Hurley I wanted my last name to be 'Wilson' once I started writing stories based on his old cases… I didn't know that Professor Mickey was the one who wrote the case notes as well as the report, and Dr. Wilson just signed it… and, and the report that I took… the subject was… was…"

When Barok realized just which particular file she must be talking about, he drew her closer once more right away, careful to not give away his shock at this revelation.

She misled herself into suspecting the wrong man of being her father… named herself, perhaps even pursued the studies she did… based on an autopsy report of her actual father.

"You couldn't have known any better," he attempted to reassure her quietly, feeling something that was perilously close to desperation at the thought that she could cry once more. "I might have come to the same conclusions based on the information you had on hand, and I doubt anyone would fault you for the misapprehension."

"Oh, why did I do that?" she muttered as if she had not even heard him, shaking her head in growing exasperation with herself.

"Because you were very smart young girl who was wondering where she came from, from everything I can tell," Barok replied immediately. "Considering the true circumstances of your being entrusted to Mr. Sholmes, and the fact that he didn't reveal them to you for a number of very good reasons… of course you'd try to find out more, by any means necessary."

Perhaps a change of topic is in order. He sincerely doubted that he would be able to reason her out of her guilt when it came to the whole autopsy report affair, but since only time and further reflection would eventually permit her to put this particular matter to rest, his objective now should be to rescue their first conversation in over a month from the morbid memories that had dominated it so far.

"…In fact, your actions in that regard are exactly what your mother would have done, had she been in your place."

"Oh…?" Iris relaxed slightly in his hold. "What, what was she like?"

"She was… most unconventional," Barok stated after a moment of thinking of an apt adjective to sum up Beryl's character. "If Father had still been with us when Klint married her, he might have suffered an apoplectic fit – he was rather old-fashioned when it came to his views on women's roles and behavior."

At first, it felt a little odd to draw on experiences from before the tragedies in remembering his sister-in-law for the girl's sake, as though they had been locked away behind a wall of grief for far too long, but once he had allowed himself to reach past it, he found himself smiling at recalling the woman's vibrant character.

"For one, while ladies of Beryl's standing were primarily meant to be educated in the fine arts, manners, and matters pertaining to running or supervising a household, she utterly refused to restrict herself in that way – she was highly intelligent and would educate herself on anything that caught her interest. At the beginning of their courtship, Klint told me that she would engage in legal arguments with him, and occasionally outreason him. He found her intellect to be incredibly attractive."

Thinking back on the time he had acceded to Iris's wish of experiencing sitting on horseback during their stay on the Isle of Wight, he added after a moment, "For another, the woman could ride like a seasoned cavalry soldier, or so I'm told – she once attempted to challenge me to a race when I was visiting the manor, and while Klint managed to talk her out of it, he later revealed to me that she'd ride astride, in breeches, whenever she was out of sight of the staff. She also excelled at hunting, and was a skilled archer to boot. Apparently, Klint would call her his Artemis when they were among themselves. He'd joke that, if she had chosen to reject him, any fate at her hands would have been welcome."

"She sounds like she was amazing!" Iris had drawn back slightly to look at him as he reminisced, and was now mirroring his smile.

"Oh yes, she was a formidable woman, but also pleasant company if one didn't commit the error of treating her with condescension due to her gender. She would always ask about my studies and other goings-on at university during my visits, and gladly give advice if I happened to find myself in any minor binds. Back then, I'd think more than once that I'd be most fortunate if I, too, could find a lady like her who would have me."

His final admission caused the girl's smile to fade slightly. "You never did, though, did you…?"

"No." Barok sighed as he shook his head. "Of course, I gave up on the notion of a family of my own rather quickly after the Reaper rumors began to circulate and attacks on me became more and more common – I didn't dare to expose anyone close to me to criminal elements thirsting for either influence on a specific court case, or revenge for the aftermath of one. Likewise, I didn't trust anyone around me after the apparent betrayal I had suffered… not exactly the best conditions in which to find a wife."

"I see… that's also why you're still worried that someone might come after me if they knew we're related." Iris's expression was now serious, but there was a glint of understanding in her eyes.

"Exactly – not that I'd change anything about the fact that you now know," he responded with a renewed slight smile. "It's quite… nice… to once again have this sort of connection."

She sent him a probing glance all of a sudden. "But, if that's how you feel… why haven't you been visiting with us recently?"

"Ah… apologies for not letting you know in person. I believe Albert should have mentioned that I currently find myself quite busy with a project…?"

Iris cocked her head at his words, a hint of disbelief on her features. "Even during evenings and weekends?"

"Well…" For a long moment, Barok was tempted to state that this was indeed the case, but a lie after inadvertently making her cry, and having only just succeeded in restoring her spirits…?

Naturally, the girl noticed his hesitation and spoke up again without waiting for an answer. "So, there's a different reason why you're not coming for tea anymore… and it's probably not work. See, I went to your office before I came here, but only Kazy was there, so I asked him where you were, and he told me that you'd go home early quite often recently. I kept asking him questions until he gave me your address – please don't be mad at him…"

"I won't be," he assured her right away, hoping beyond hope that she would not attempt to get to the bottom of his recent absence any further.

Of course, he should not be so lucky.

"Did you have another quarrel with Hurley, is that it?"

"… No." Again, Barok had to resist answering in the affirmative – if he did, he would undoubtedly be questioned on the subject of the argument, which would in turn necessitate yet more prevarication until the entire imaginary construct fell in on itself.

"But then…" The Iris's eyes widened. "You can't possibly have argued with Bertie…?"

Although her supposition of what had happened was off the mark, the mention of Albert caused Barok to avoid her gaze before he could stop himself.

Naturally, his niece did not fail to notice his reaction. "So something did happen with Bertie! But… why would you be angry with him?"

"I'm not." Barok was not even certain whether it was possible for him to be put out at Albert.

"You're not…?" Iris trailed off, one hand leaving his shoulder as she raised it to scratch her chin in thought.

"… Wait. Is this about what we just discussed? That you're worried for him because people might know that you're close to him? But… why now?"

At that, Barok could not suppress a sigh. How the hell should I explain to her what I don't even fully understand, myself?

As if the girl had read his mind, she drew closer once more for another hug. "Please, Uncle Barry, tell me. I don't understand – you're not happy right now, and he isn't either… neither one of you sleeps well… and there must have been some reason why you decided to not see him anymore a month ago! I'm so worried for both of you…"

Her final statement struck a chord within him.

She's had things kept from her by the adults in her life for the longest time, and the secret of her heritage resulted from too many other unspoken truths ultimately condemning her parents to their fate. He did not want to cause her to fret about his and Albert's health or relationship, thinking that the visits of the last year would permanently remain a thing of the past.

After another long sigh and groping for words to explain his reasoning to his niece, he stated slowly, "Last month, due to certain… developments… I found myself concerned that we were becoming… more familiar with each other than we should be."

Silence.

After multiple seconds of not hearing a word from her, he risked a glance at Iris. Her forehead was creased in a frown and she seemed more puzzled than he had ever beheld her.

"That… that doesn't make any sense, none at all. He likes you a lot, and he misses you! You like him a lot, too, don't you?"

"Of course – that is, in fact, why it's in his best interests if I keep my distance for a while." Barok had no idea just how he should explain to the child that he feared for Albert's career and reputation, should they ever be seen by someone prone to salacious gossip during a slip-up.

Again, Iris stared at him for an interminable moment – but then, she appeared to have reached something of an epiphany.

"Uncle Barry, can it be that you're wondering if Bertie is special to you?"

"What do you mean by 'special'?" he asked in return, although he had the feeling that the girl had somehow managed to arrive at the crux of the problem.

"Well… Hurley's had some cases where the people involved had someone who was special to them, but it was a secret from their families and friends. He told me that sometimes, a man likes another man very, very much, but because they're supposed to get married to women and have children, others are against their Special Someone being a man, too." After her explanation, she studied his face once more. "That's it, isn't it? You thought you wanted a wife when you were younger, and now you want Bertie, instead?"

"I…" Try as he might, Barok could not come up with words that would answer her question either way. Eventually, he muttered, "While I do care for him very much, I can't say either 'yes' or 'no' just yet. Perhaps that's part of why I decided to stay away – I simply don't know. I suppose this is another one of those complicated matters we've discussed."

"But how are you ever going to find out if you don't talk to Bertie anymore? I'm sure he'd hear you out and tell you what he thinks… or are you worried that he wouldn't want to be your Special Someone?"

I might actually be more concerned about him wanting exactly that. Even if there were no potential negative repercussions to consider, the question remained of whether Barok could be for Albert what his friend wanted, given his lack of experience in this particular emotional realm, to not even speak of related physical matters when it came to other men.

Iris observed his face while he thought, patiently waiting for him to say something. When nothing came forth after a few minutes, she took it upon herself to speak up once more. "Barry, you don't have to talk to him about that right away if you're not sure yet, but… you're going to make yourself ill if you continue like this, and if Bertie continues eating like a bird and not sleeping every other night, he'll take ill, too. I don't want to lose either one of you."

Her words about Albert's recent behavior took a moment to register, but when they did, Barok felt concern rising inside him like a cresting wave.

"He's not eating?"

"Very little," the girl confirmed. "He always apologizes and says he doesn't have much of an appetite lately… and he doesn't talk to us about his ideas anymore either, even when Hurley is doing his best to discuss some of our older inventions he might like to improve."

Albert… Clearly, his friend was taking their separation even worse than Barok himself did – the things Iris had just described sounded so unlike the Albert Harebrayne he had known for so long that he was tempted to rush over to 221B Baker Street right away to speak to him.

Apparently, his niece had read in his expression what had been going through his head, as she added quickly, "He's not about to be sent to hospital, don't worry – I make sure to bring him little snacks throughout the day so he doesn't have to think as much about eating during mealtimes. If you go see him right now, he'll only say that he didn't want to bother you while you're busy – that's what he told me when I asked him last week why he doesn't write you a letter to see how you're doing."

Barok nodded slowly. A fine mess he had caused there with his words about being available in an emergency – Albert would probably point out that feeling a little out of sorts did not constitute such a circumstance, considering his tendency toward self-effacement.

Only then did he realize that perhaps, Iris had just offered up a solution to this conundrum.

"I think I shall write him a letter and see if he'd like to meet somewhere this weekend."

If sent through the regular mail, Albert would not be under the impression that this meeting with Iris had caused Barok to drop everything and rush to his aid, yet the letter would arrive early enough for them to be able to make arrangements.

"That's a good idea!" Of course, the girl was immediately on board with his suggestion. "And, if you end up being each other's Special Someones, please don't worry – neither Hurley nor I would ever tell a soul!"

"We shall see what happens in regard to that topic – for now, please allow me to address the problems I seem to have caused with my obstinacy first." Barok sent her a slight smile.

"All right… just promise me that you won't fib about work again to stay away." Iris was not smiling back. "I was worried sick when you suddenly stopped coming by."

"I give you my word that I won't. Apologies for causing you concern – that was never my intention."

"As long as you're sorry." Now, his niece did smile again. "Remember that I like you a lot, too. I don't want to have to miss you when you're not even living all that far away from us."

"Should I ever repeat my missteps, please feel free to seek me out here for another talking-to – it appears I need it on occasion." Barok could not suppress a contrite chuckle, joined by Iris a moment later.

"I'll make sure to do that – you can be very silly sometimes."

"So it seems."

The girl would leave his home after spending another half-hour in his presence to return to Baker Street in time to prepare dinner for her co-lodgers, while Barok busied himself with writing a letter to Albert.

When he went to bed that evening, sleep was still elusive for multiple hours, but now, his inability to nod off was no longer based in suffering the absence of someone dear to him, but in nervousness regarding how Albert would respond to his missive.