It's been almost a month since the fight. Jack has refused to see or speak to his uncle. Mycroft has surprised John by being far more patient than he had thought him capable of; but then again, he doesn't really know the man all that well.
Jack withdrew from everyone around him for the first week. John turned to Mrs. Hudson, needing ideas on how to cheer him up and to get him to come back out of his shell. The trouble was, it was hard to suggest something to Jack without knowing what he liked doing. John tried to ask but was thrown a rather sinister look that would have probably sent Mycroft running for the hills. At the end of week, he discovered Jack standing by the door of their flat, staring blankly at the wall. The panic that rose within him was crippling, and he did something he once swore he wouldn't do even under the threat of death: he called Harry.
It wasn't until she picked up that he realised what he was doing. And questioned why he was doing it. As did Harry.
"You utter COCK, JOHN HAMISH WATSON! You vanish into a police car and I spend the next three months not even knowing where the heck you are! Had to read the Daily Mail to discover you're alive! THE DAILY MAIL YOU SON OF A-"
"She's your mother too, Harry," John snapped crisply. "I don't why I thought you'd have any ideas, but you're the only person I know right now who's not tied up in this mess. I need fresh eyes. And for you to pretend you like children for five minutes."
"If you need a babysitter then you can stuff your-"
"The boy is depressed, Harry. His dad tried to kill himself because everyone in his family is a hundred times more fucked up than ours and he spent every hour of the first five years of his life trapped in a vault with no sunlight or other people except those filth disguised as humans who brought them food. He was fine until his uncle and I got into a fist fight the other day because the asshole literally made the boy's dad think everything was his fault and so I fought for the Sherlock's honour since he wasn't here to do it himself. Now he doesn't want to see his uncle and he's getting depressed. Ideas. Now."
There's a long pause and John doesn't know if she's actually trying to come with ideas or if she's questioning his sanity. Or both.
"Has he mentioned anything he's really wanted to do? Kids like playgrounds and toys and stuff right? How many toys do you have there?"
"We've got toys. He likes pirates and his uncle has brought a lot of stuff around."
She laughs. "Well, there's your answer."
John blinks, the anxiety of the last few weeks draining away and being replaced with an equally heavy weight of confusion and frustration.
"You said the boy's only interactions in that shithole were people who brought him stuff. Now he's in a flat and people still bring him stuff. Did he actually get to choose, or did his fuckface uncle decide for him?"
"He asked Jack what he likes, Harry, it's not like he-"
"Not good enough. He needs control. Or as much control as kids that age can have. Have you walked into a store and picked out stuff with him? Come on, John, you know going to the store was WAY more exciting than flipping through a magazine at that age."
John finds he is speechless. His frustration peaks again because what she's saying is so obvious. "Fresh eyes. Okay, thanks for-"
"Not so fast! One idea won't solve the problem." A tapping sound travels down the line and into his ear, as she starts researching online for information.
"Didn't think you'd even want to help."
"How often do you ask me for help and appreciate even ONE of my ideas? I'm on a roll! Besides, it's always best to have a backup plan."
John would usually say something sarcastic, but bites his lip so as not to spoil the moment and opts for a small smile instead.
"Right, so locked up in a sunless room… Has he like, mentioned wanting to see more of nature? Has he seen any animals yet? We had a cat as a kid, but you preferred dogs…"
John sits up in his armchair. "Dogs. He had an imaginary dog. He loved them at the park. We were trying to keep a low profile so he couldn't get close."
"Ha! Idea number two! Take him to one of those places where breeders sell puppies or something, that way he can meet several and they won't be too big or overwhelming or whatever. Okay, so this next idea I don't like because I am thoroughly allergic: does he read? Libraries do activities and stuff, he can borrow shit…"
John crawls out of his armchair, exhausted, and rolls onto the sofa. "How are you better at than me?"
Harry laughs in a way that reminds John she may not be as sober as he was hoping. "Tell more about the kid."
"Seriously, you hate children."
Harry goes quiet, like all those times she's about to confess something terrible. An uncomfortable weight settles in his stomach. "Tell me, Harry."
There's rustling as she shifts in her seat. "It's nothing," is spoken too fast.
John sits up. "Listen to me. You've obviously done something. Spit it out."
"I thought you knew. I thought that's why you hadn't called."
"What?"
"I was with you when the kid ran into your life. You vanished and… I had no money. I went to some tabloid, got 500 quid for my side of the story. You never reached out so I thought you were angry. I didn't… It wasn't until more details were published that I realised how serious the kid's story is. I thought I'd ruined whatever is left of our relationship."
John's heart hammers away in his chest. "Harry, I haven't read any articles since all this started. I've been too busy. But I'm not mad."
There's creaking as she swaps hands. "You're not?"
"Jack's uncle… works for the government. He's incredibly powerful. He has a boyfriend, who has an ex-wife. She threatened a nasty divorce and the uncle shipped her to the south pole. I'm not kidding. If you'd done anything to mess up their safety, you'd be missing already." He takes a deep breath, trying to soothe his nerves. "I've given you a lot of information today. You have to promise not to share it with anyone. He's not a perfect man, but he does love his family and I can't promise he won't make things difficult for you if you go back to the tabloids. Do you understand me, Harry?"
The silence is too long. John feels the panic rise up within his throat. "Harry, you don't want to mess with this guy over-"
"Did he really ship her away? The ex-wife?"
"The boyfriend told me she's not on any databases right now. Her assets have been frozen. Listen-"
"Do you think… do you think he would ship me away if… if I came up with more ideas to help his nephew?"
John blinks in an attempt at clearing his head. "What? Are you even listening to me? He won't do anything as long as you don't harm the boy. You have to swear to me-"
"What if I wanted him to?"
Every one of John's thoughts crash and pile up like a vicious car wreck. "What? You're not making sense."
He can sense her restlessness, a lick of lips audible, a slight change in her breathing. She almost sounds… excited? "If I helped the kid feel better and he maybe even wanted to see his uncle again… could he… ship me somewhere they can help with my problems? Somewhere… somewhere that can help me plan my future?" Her voice is rushed, embarrassed by what she is asking.
John's heart accelerates for a completely different reason. He can't believe his ears. His luck. "Harry, are you sure?"
"I just… I'm tired of being angry. Reading about this kid's life, how they were treated… with the right help, I can turn my life around. I just… can't do it by myself and we both know what happens when you get involved. I know you want me to help out of the kindness of my heart and bullshit but… I need help."
"I've been taking care if his nephew. He will help."
"I need more than your word. I need a guarantee."
John is too excited to care. "Tell you what, I'll try one of your ideas tomorrow. If it works, I'll contact the uncle and let him know. Then I'll come back to you for more ideas and we'll work our way there. If he says no, then… then all I can promise you is that going to the tabloids won't get you in rehab. Just hang in there until tomorrow evening. I will call you, I promise. You know you can trust me to do that at least; you know how much I want this for you."
Her voice has dropped to a whisper. "Okay. Keep it together for 24 hours."
"You can do it. I'm proud of you."
"Piss off."
The following day John helps Jack get dressed and made his breakfast. Once the subdued, quiet boy has eaten and cleaned his teeth, John approaches him with his shoes and jacket. He glares with a pout. "I don't want to see Uncle Mycroft."
"We're not going to see him. We're going to one of the most magical places, that all children love. It's time you saw it too."
Jack's eyes light up, curiosity winning over. "What is it?"
"It's a surprise. Just you and me. Mrs. Hudson is a bit tired today."
They stepped outside and John flagged down a cab. "Is that a car from Uncle Mycroft?"
"No, I told you, it's just us. This is a taxi. Everyone with money can use these."
The trip is long, but Jack has questions about everything. Soon they arrive at a mall.
"You told me that in Room, They would bring you things. And now in the Real World, Uncle Mycroft brings you things. But I know you're a big boy, so today, you're going to choose things for yourself."
"Like food?"
"Nope. Like toys!"
Jack seems quite confused by the notion and slightly frightened by the amount of people milling about. "Stay close to me, Jack. Hold my hand, I'll keep you safe."
The toy shop is busy, but they've arrived before the usual rush. As the automatic doors slide open and Jack's mouth drops in shock. The look of sheer wonder is enough to make John want to phone Mycroft and bully him into helping Harry. Then the look becomes overwhelmed. John kneels to Jack's height to try and see things from his perspective. He knows that Room had been white. The amount of colour before them seemed to be beyond Jack's comprehension.
"Would you like me to carry you, just for today? We'll just take it aisle by aisle, one at a time. I'm right here."
Jack grips his shirt tightly as they start to walk around. Other people pass them but take no notice. The first aisle has trucks of all sizes. Jack suddenly spots an ambulance toy and is sufficiently distracted. They see dinosaur toys which lead to the most baffling conversation about extinction John has ever had, and Lego, but Jack seems put off by the idea of having to build something specific. So they grab a large box of different bricks. An employee spots John struggling to carry Jack and the items and brings them a trolley. Jack stands at the end and shrieks for joy as John wheels him about. Explaining to Jack that he can have more than one thing is difficult. Jack assumes that because he has his soft Panda toy from Mrs. Hudson, he can't ask for more. John silently curses everything, but manages to explain that although Jack cannot have everything because no one can, he wants Jack to experience toys and have lots of fun before he gets older.
They arrive at the till with trolley load of toys, colouring books and posters to decorate Jack's bedroom. The boy is shaking slightly from the adrenaline and is breathing a little too fast, but the smile reassures John that there is no risk of a panic attack. He doesn't have anywhere near enough money, but confidently places all the toys on the conveyor belt.
"Somebody, look, they're moving!"
"That's a conveyor belt, Jack, it means we can put things on it and the nice lady behind the till will be able to start scanning the bar codes."
"I don't understand."
"Next time we go to a shop, I'll explain if there are less people."
The woman glances up at them, then does a double take. Recognition directed at John, then she looks at Jack and seems to be trying to picture him with a ponytail. "Oh my… GOD! Janet! Get-"
John has shuffled his way towards the front to pay and reaches over the till to grab her arm. "Don't." He squeezes hard enough to cut her off. "Keep quiet."
She's looking at his hand. The rush of excitement is quickly turning to panic. John raises his voice just slightly. "Jack, I want you to deduce this lady."
"I can deduce?"
"Just tell me if she's a parent. Yes or no, is this lady a mum?" He has no idea if Jack will even be able to identify such factors, since he's been around so few people.
Jack gives her as much of a once over as possible from his current position in the trolley. "She has… erm… yes? But not… There's something…"
"Good enough." John leans back towards the woman and notes that the colleague she had called is approaching fast. He glances at the name tag. "Rebecca, tell Janet to walk away."
Her eyes are fixed on his hand still gripping her arm. Her mouth twists. "She's going to scream," says Jack, helpfully. John knows this, but just nods.
"If you are a parent, would you want to put your child in danger by bringing attention to them? If you know who this child is, then you know how much protection he has. Tell Janet to go and we'll pay. Now."
She eyes Jack. The other woman, Janet, realises something is wrong. "Becca? Everything alright-"
John quickly releases her arm, relaxes his posture, feigning ignorance. "Have you fixed the till yet? I've got an appointment, haven't got all day." He flaps his wallet about in a frustrated motion. Rebecca remains frozen.
"I think she's an idiot," Pips up Jack. "A great big…" Janet frowns and comes to stand next to her colleague. John curses.
"Be polite, kiddo." He doesn't want to say Jack's name. Another customer has queued behind them. "How much do I owe you, love?"
Rebecca slowly reaches out and taps the credit card machine. A horrifyingly high figure appears. John taps in his pin number and hopes. The payment is accepted. Thank god for whatever bug Mycroft has placed on him.
"Perfect. Thank you…" He leans forward and pretends to reads her name tag for the first time. "Rebecca. That's a lovely name. A good name for a woman who does the right thing." He holds eye contact for a brief second as a warning, then places the last item on the trolley and throws both women a bright smile. "Thank you for your service. We'll definitely come back." He grabs the handles of the trolley and pushes it hard to cut Jack off in what was clearly going to be a last insult and hurries out.
They stand outside. John takes a deep breath. Fuck. She'd recognised him before Jack. Fuck. They needed to go to places with more crowds.
"Was she a Monster?"
Jack's question startles him. "No, Jack. But a lot of people know about your story and I didn't want anyone trying to take your photo. She wasn't evil, just… didn't have the best intentions."
"Are we going to take the trolley to the street to find another black car?"
"No, Jack, we're going to stand right here. A cab will come to us."
"Really? They know where we are?"
No. Thinks John. But Mycroft will have already called one if he knows what's good for him. He would have to be sure to organise a cab himself from now on.
Less than a minute later, a cab pulls into the parking lot and stops right in front of them. The cabbie jumps out. "Sorry I'm late, sir. Let's get your bags in the back."
As they drive away, Jack is too distracted by the toy ambulance to notice an unmarked black car pull up outside the shop. John sighs. He only hopes Rebecca will keep her mouth shut and cooperate.
The toy idea worked. Jack spends the rest of the day playing, with lots of sound effects and constantly wanting to share his joy with John. He phones Mycroft and discusses how the idea came about and how Harry may have more ideas to help reunite uncle and nephew. He then tells Mycroft what Harry wants.
"If Jack is happy and wishes to see me, it will be done."
"And if he's happy, but not enough to see you?" John asks. He doesn't want any false promises.
"Then she will have to come up with an idea that will make Jack happy to see me." He hangs up. John knows he's desperate to see Jack if he's agreeing to help out a drunk woman he's never met. John dials Harry's number.
The next three weeks are a blur. They take a trip to the zoo and Jack gets to feed a giraffe and an elephant. It made my hand all yucky! They sign up to the local library. They go out every day to get fresh air and enjoy a pick-nick. At home, Jack is no longer bored and continues his bi-weekly therapy with Mike. Mrs. Hudson insists she is not their housekeeper by making delicious meals, and teaching Jack how to cook. Every so often, Sherlock calls for a few minutes to speak to Jack. The boy is usually far more subdued afterwards, as is John. Sherlock hasn't spoken to him since he throttled his brother.
So, a month after that incident, Harry tells him to go ahead with the "ultimate plan" (how are we related, Harry, seriously?). He phones Mycroft.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Doctor Watson?"
"You're going to see your nephew soon."
A sharp intake of breath is probably the greatest display of emotion Mycroft could ever allow himself. "I did not get the impression the boy wanted to see me."
"He will, because you are going to make Jack very happy. And if Sherlock's feeling better, he can be a part of this nice reunion too. Does Mike think he could leave the hospital, just for a few hours?"
"He has suggested it recently, but I didn't know what to organize. I was worried if he came to the flat for an afternoon, Jack wouldn't react well to him leaving again."
"Well, this idea won't just make Jack happy to see you, it will make Sherlock happy as well. If you can send a woman the south pole, then you can do this for Jack this with your eyes shut."
Once John has given him the details, he hangs up and waits for Mycroft to speak to Sherlock's doctors. John receives a text confirming the time and date.
John grins. In three days time, they were going to have the best day in ages.