CHAPTER 58. WHAT FATHER SAID
John and Sherlock waited outside the bedroom doors, Holmes Senior was talking to Mycroft first. Sherlock rolled his eyes, of course he would need a few words with Lord, Do No Wrong.
"Behave." John nudged the taller man, Sherlock could never understand the uneasiness he felt around his father even now. John's elbow nudged him again, and some of the heaviness seemed to lift, as it usually did around his friend.
Sherlock wondered if John new he could do that, he had a way of pacifying the worst situations. Victims and even suspects responded to his polite calm demeanor, before he could continue to explore this thought the bedroom doors opened and a nurse ushered them inside.
John's eyes took in the room, it was set up like a hospital room, a plush hotel like hospital room. Mr. Holmes had no costs spared, the machines dispensing oxygen, the heart monitors, but there was no covering the smell of antiseptic and bleach. Familiar hospital scents, used in an attempt at disguising the unpleasant smells that accompany death and failing faculties.
He could see the cot was a nice queen size mattress converted into a hospital cot, but it was empty. Mycroft was standing near a tall blue wing backed chair next to the large windows, the light of the afternoon sun was streaming in.
A nurse stood off to the side checking the machines and adjusting the oxygen.
"Go on Mycroft you can go. I'm sure your friends are waiting. Be sure to check on your mother." Mycroft remained unmoved.
"Father, Sherlock has come to visit, Sherlock and John Watson." Sherlock moved stiffly towards the chair coming to stand opposite of Mycroft he looked down at the now feeble old man, thin and wheezing, he had an oxygen mask on over his skeletal face.
John wondered what it was Sherlock could see when he ran his eyes over his father.
John being a doctor read all the signs of the end nearing, and though he hardly spent much time in Holmes senior's presence he still found it difficult to see a once proud man reduced to a small skeleton draped in a blue silk robe and matching pajamas. An echo of his former self, even his height had gone, as his fragile bones started curling in on themselves.
"So I've come as you called." Sherlock grumbled. Mycroft shot him a dark look one he chose to ignore.
"Mycroft I thought you were bringing your brother in. Where is he?"
Sherlock frowned shooting a questioning look to Mycroft. "Ah, Lawrence have you come for a visit. You'll have to excuse me I wasn't expecting you." Sherlock tried to think of whom his father could be referring. The old spotted hands had pulled the oxygen mask down.
"That was mother's brother. You remember-no you wouldn't remember him he died when you were just one. I believe he was a pilot in the royal air force." Mycroft kept his voice low enough for John and Sherlock to hear.
"Your sister isn't in. I think she's gone on vacation." Father continued to speak in short gasps, Sherlock only rolled his eyes impatiently.
"Oh, this is ridiculous, she's was never on vacation. She was in the hospital, the mad house." Sherlock growled, "This is pointless." He growled turning to leave, Mycroft followed, the two moved to the hall to argue. John flashed a polite uncomfortable smile towards the nurse.
"Agnes." The old man called to the dark haired nurse in the white scrubs. "Agnes" he panted "Go bring my son to me. He's out in the garden. With that Watson boy again. Tell him I wish to speak to him." The old nurse only whispered to John.
"He has been getting disorientated more and more. Sometimes he calls me Agnes-" John smiled.
"That was Sherlock's poor nanny." John replied." Do you mind, I'm a Doctor, can I see his chart." The hospice nurse nodded.
"Oh, of course." She kneeled down. "Mr. Holmes I'm going to leave you in the company of Doctor Watson." John didn't think the old man could see him at first he kept staring out the window, his eyes glazed.
"They are at the library I believe. Pointless we have an excellent library. I buy the boy books all the time, but he'd rather go off and read used ones. It's just to spite me." John adjusted the man's oxygen mask. "I need to talk to him." The older man repeated, patting John's hand softly when he adjusted the older man's oxygen mask.
"You will, just calm down now, take a deep breath." John coaxed. The older man squinted and turned away. "You know her brother Lawrence went to war. The only family she had left. Sentiment. It broke her."
John wondered how much of this was true. The nurse finally handed him the chart after she ran another check on the monitors.
"Are you feeling any pain Mr. Holmes?" John asked gently. He was checking the numbers and thought maybe the pain medicine the Doctor was giving the dose was a little low for hospice patients he expected twice that.
"I hurt all over." The man murmured. "I'm so tired."
"Would you like to go back to bed Mr. Holmes?" The nurse asked gently.
"No. I wish to stay here in my study I like this chair it's comfortable." John heard the authoritative tone, that was the man he remembered.
"Only acquaintances." John continued to stand quietly with the older man, giving the brothers some privacy to sort it out. "Sherlock made one friend." John wondered what the older man saw when he looked on his sons with those empty sightless eyes. "John Watson. He is a good boy." John was caught off guard thinking he heard incorrectly. "It's a mistake to let Sherlock have friends. Sentiment-it clouds the judgment, blurs the goal. It's a chemical defect. Sherlock will be bored with that kid. It's almost unfair to let them continue. People aren't toys you know. Meant to be discarded." John looked at the nurse, she went to shut the bedroom door as the two brothers voices were growing louder by the minute.
"Doctor Watson I need to refill the ice chips would you-"
"Not at all, I'll stay here till you get back." The older man turned to look at John his eyes narrowing he pulled the mask from his face once more.
"So Nathan." John flinched, hearing his father's name. "I see you haven't heard a thing I said. I warned you. Royce here is going to escort you to the rehabilitation center where you will remain for the full 90 days. And if we have to have this conversation one more time, it wont just be jail and rehab you will have to worry about."
"What?" John turned to look at the man.
"Don't play dumb Watson, I'm not giving a cent. You even think of pressing charges on Royce here my lawyers will make a meal of you. I am sorry about the knee, I told Royce to break your wrist but seeing how he already has dislocated your shoulder, figured to switch it up a bit." John's eyes were wide, the old man was senile he had to be somehow confused, making this up. John tried to think, his father did have a limp wasn't that how he always was. How did he even know his father, as far as John could remember they never had met. Did father already walk with a limp before John had met Sherlock? John couldn't remember.
"He's a fragile boy, Sherlock. I can't have you upsetting him. It's an ill-advised friendship but I've been told your son's influence will rein my son in. So far I have seen improvement. Your little stunt in the park almost brought that down. Did you not understand after the last talk we had?"
"We had a talk?" John asked his mouth dry, and heart pounding. What the hell was this? No way it was real. Right?
"Father what are you going on about?" Mycroft asked moving to stand in front of his father's chair beside John. Sherlock stood on the other side.
"Yes, Royce called me all the way in Brussels. I came home just to have that conversation with you. I'm a busy man Mr. Watson." John wondered now, his father had gone away several times to rehabilitation centers far from home. John always assumed it was because his father couldn't afford one closer. Right?
"I better go, give you your privacy-" John started to move away from the old mans glare, his disturbing words and the identical expression of surprise the two Holmes brothers held.
"John?" the older man caught his wrist, John nearly jumped at the cold touch. The old man smiled thinly. "John, did Sherlock come with you? Are you home from University?" the older man grimaced, placeing a shaky hand to the oxygen mask, he seemed confused by it. He continued to look down at his hands as if he was searching for something.
"No, you boys are not in university any longer. John, Royce said you left to Afghanistan. When did you get back?" John wondered how Royce and Mr. Holmes knew his military record or anything about him had Mycroft said something he knew it wasn't Sherlock he already admitted to not coming home.
"No, that's not right. You were injured." The older Holmes didn't let John reply, his breathing more labored.
How did he know that, did Mycroft mention it, but why would he?
"You're a Doctor." The older man smiled as if he had just got a hard maths question right. "Yes, a Doctor and an army man. I can't see too well John. My eyes aren't the same. You know old age. You've not grown an inch." The older laughed at his own joke, the raspy laugh cut short by a hard cough racking his small frame. John placed the mask over the man's face.
"Yes well to be fair I am somewhat average height." John replied easily.
"You look well. I heard you were decorated. General Robinson told me a few years back you would make captain's rank. Your family should be proud." John thought of Harry the only family he had at this point, she hadn't been excited anything to do with the army. The older Holmes patted Johns arm. "They don't deserve you. I told Royce that we should have just officially taken you on. I don't know why we didn't it was selfish to keep sending you back. Selfish. You know people would talk. You found your way back though." John didn't know how to reply, he only nodded. "Mycroft said you would be a Doctor said you knew, before secondary you were going to be a Doctor. He was right."
"Father." Mycroft interrupted now. "Father Sherlock has come for a visit." John's wrist was released he thanked Mycroft with a quick nod.
"Well bring him in." The old man snapped gruffly, coughing once more.
"John can I speak to you in the hall." Mycroft asked quickly, John shot a look at Sherlock who raised a hand as if to wave him off.
Mycroft took the medical chart and closed the door softly behind him.
Sherlock stood with his hands in his suit pocket he refused to feel. To feel anything. He did wish to sort out the truth from an old man's babbling nonsense. When did father meet John's father? Perhaps Royce would be a better person to speak with. Mycroft seemed surprised by it, could it be possible this was something not even the great and powerful British Government knew?
"Sherlock." His father rasped. "You came."
"I didn't have a choice."
"Yes well Mycroft does have his ways." Sherlock frowned no he was here because John's sister was selling a house. "Ever the diplomat and mediator." Sherlock sighed.
"If this is another session of how great Mycroft is then I'll gladly pass."
"No." his father snapped, breathing heavily, Sherlock could see this much talking was wearing the man down. "I wont say I'm sorry." He stated.
"Didn't think you would be."
John stood outside discussing the chart notes "That is just my opinion. I am just a-"
"No Doctor I trust your opinion wholly." Mycroft was pulling his phone out. "If you'll excuse me a moment."
"John." Sherlock pulled open the door to his fathers room, John could hear one of the alarms going off. The nurse had a look of concern.
John entered quickly, kneeling down next to the older man, who struggled for air.
"It's alright. Just a little worked up." John helped the nurse get the old man into his bed, adjusting the oxygen valves one more time, he glared at the pump dispensing the older man's pain medication.
"Maybe a rest then. Mr. Holmes you need to take it easy too much excitement for one day." The older man only nodded patting John's hands.
After the young doctor saw Mr. Holmes was comfortable he followed Sherlock out of the large master bedroom.
"If you're wondering dear brother, no I did not try to cut off his air supply. Although as much nonsense that he was spewing I should have."
"Always so overdramatic brother." John sensed the two were reaching a boiling point and even though he had questions he thought he better break it up. Send the boys to their prospective corners.
"Come on Sherlock, let's leave Mycroft to his phone calls we can go speak to Royce."
John took Sherlock's arm and the two started down the old corridor, Mycroft was calling the Doctor demanding to know why he left the Hospice nurse to care for father, Doctor Hull was after all being paid for 24 hour monitoring.
John almost felt bad for that doctor whomever he was.