I think I made Pa sad. I didn't mean to, but I didn't like his story. It scares me to think Pa used to be Half-Real like Them. How could he live in a house? How is there space in his world for a house? Does everyone live in the same house? And if people can leave their house, how do they breathe? Pa answers the best he can, but I still don't understand how the World works. How can it possibly exist? Pa tells me I'll understand one day.
It's strange to think Pa has a name. Sherlock Holmes. I like it. That means my name is Jack Holmes. This is very important, so I put it on the Important Shelf in my Mind Palace along with other things like Appledore, Vault, Pa's name and information about my family. I never want to forget. I believe Pa now. Pa doesn't lie to me.
I look at him. Pa is reading one of the stories that I got in my Big Book for my birthday. He tells me he's found a story that will help me understand. It's only meant to be read on the 31st of March, but Pa says we must read it now. It's called 'A Room With A Door And Not Much More'. A lady lets animals live with her until her Room is too full and there's no space left. But her friend who lives in an even bigger Room on wheels, called a caravan says they can all come and live with her. Pa looks at me and holds my head in his hands, which means he's about to say something very important. He explains that this is what will happen with our Room if we stay any longer. I ask him if it is because of Eggsnake. He smiles and shakes his head. He says it's because I will get bigger, not Eggsnake and I'll eat more food and there'll be less space for me to play. But most importantly, it won't be safe with Them coming in. I wish They wouldn't. Room would be perfect if They stayed away. But Pa says that if They never came, we wouldn't have any food. I think it's very complicated. Everything was simple when I was little. But now I'm five, I have to think about things a lot more.
I know more about Pa now. He's twenty-nine years old and he's been in Room for thirteen years, two months and four days. He's never had a birthday party in Room. I didn't even know Pa had a birthday. He was very lonely before me for eight years. When I was born, he cut the cord and said 'Hello, Jack!'. But I already knew that.
Room is still very cold. Fridge is dead and cheese smells bad. Pa says we must eat up eggs before they go bad. They taste a bit funny, but I'm starving so I don't stop. Then Pa takes a bite and he goes very white. He starts spitting out egg and I laugh and tell him he should eat properly, but he grabs me and makes me spit my mouthful out in Bin. I do and he asks me how much I ate. He looks at my plate and panics. He wraps me up in blankets and asks me if food tastes funny. I say yes. He panics some more and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up all over the place. I'm worried about what I might have done wrong, but Pa says I must tell him if I feel sick. He says I'll know the feeling if it happens. I hide in Bed to keep warm and watch Pa as he throws our food away. I turn on TV and look at who's real like Pa and what isn't. I ask him if I'm right. He says I've understood and looks very proud of me. That makes me very happy. I switch off TV and sleep.
I wake up feeling really strange and bad, like I'm about to explode from the inside. Pa picks me up and holds me over Toilet, just as I'm sick. When it's over, my mouth tastes horrible and my nose burns. There's still no water so we can't flush Toilet and I can't drink. Pa is very worried and cuddles me, even though I smell. His tummy rumbles and he gets himself an apple. He bites into it and grunts. He starts to chew and then he stops and puts his fingers in his mouth. I hear a strange noise and he pulls out something small.
"What is it?"
He looks at me. "Bad tooth. It must have come loose when They hit my head on the wall."
"Can I see?"
He gives it to me, but I drop it. Pa gets me to Toilet only just in time.
Sherlock is panicking. Jack's thrown up three times and the last time there was nothing left to throw up. The only good news is that they have all power and water back. Room is warming up again, but too slowly and Jack has a temperature. They've been sharing body heat, clothes and blankets. But Sherlock is worried out of his mind. They have no medicine. He can't make this better. But he does have a plan. A plan to save Jack.
Old Magnussen isn't easy to fool, which is why Jack being actually sick helps. He's no doctor, but if he can convince Them that Jack has food poisoning and is at risk of Salmonella, They might agree to take him to the hospital. Once there, Jack can yell for help and then he'll be safe.
"It's the only way to get you help, Jack. It could be serious and I can't do anything for you."
"But, Pa..."
"Don't you see? We won't have to trick Them because you really are ill, you can go to hospital to get better and once you're there, you can shout "help, police!" and then we'll be safe. They'll be back this evening, tonight's our best and only chance."
"But, Pa, I don't want to," says Jack, fidgeting.
"You have to, it's the only way to get you out of here, it's all I can do for you."
"But, Pa, I'm scared. I don't want to be Half-Real."
Sherlock pulls him closer. You won't be Half-Real. You'll be just the same as you are now, but not in Room. You'll be fine, don't you worry about a thing."
The next hour passes to fast for Jack's liking. He isn't sick anymore, but he doesn't feel well and the temperature in Room is only just starting to feel normal again. He watches Strip Light as it flickers like a pulse. He wonders if the World has a Strip Light too, to stop the dark. He clutches Pa's tooth in his hand. If he has to leave Room, then he'll just have to take a piece of Pa with him. But he's scared of Them. He doesn't want to go anywhere with Them, not without his Pa for safety.
When the time comes, Sherlock has him dressed in his warmest jumper and socks, his best trousers and T-shirt. He tucks him in Bed and comforts him, reassuring him. Sherlock tries not to think their plan through. They've had no time to prepare what Jack will tell the police or the possibilities of what Old Magnussen and the Witch will do to stop him. But there is no other way. Getting Jack to a hospital could save him from further illness and both of them from captivity, if they're lucky. But only if the police stop Them. If They somehow get away and end up beck here, then Sherlock is… Well, things won't end well for him. They'll blame him for everything and the punishment will be severe. But Jack will be safe. That's better than the predicted outcome he had just a day ago. This is better than Jack sleeping in Wardrobe for the rest of his life.
He almost misses the six beeps and then the door opens. They stop in Their tracks as They take in the scene in front of Them.
"What's that god-awful smell?" asks the Witch.
"Jack's unwell. He's been sick three times and I don't know what to do," he replies, with genuine fear in his voice.
They approach Bed where father and son stare up at Them fearfully. Old Magnussen puts his hand on Jack's forehead. Sherlock glares at Him, warning Him to keep his distance. Jack squeezes his eyes shut.
"It would appear he has a fever. What happened?"
"It got really cold in here and the food went off in the fridge. We ate the eggs but something was wrong, they tasted funny. A while later, Jack started throwing up."
Old Magnussen and the Witch communicate silently, no words spoken between them. Sherlock tries to get Their attention.
"Please, you have to take him to a hospital. I can't do anything for him here, I'm not a doctor. It could be serious, I-"
"No," Old Magnussen's voice is the equivalent of a bomb destroying Sherlock's imperfect plan. "We'll be back tomorrow with medicine."
"No. No, you can't do that, it could be serious, it could be Salmonella or something, he's never been sick before, he might die-"
"Say please."
"A stunned silence fills the air between them. Sherlock blinks in an attempt to clear the panic from his head. "What?"
"How desperate are you for me to save your son? No matter how hard I've tried, I've never succeeded in making you say 'please" before. It's almost embarrassing for me really." He curls his lip and gives Sherlock a mocking smile. "Say please."
Sherlock glares at Him with all the contempt and hate he can muster. The feeling is overwhelming. But he gives in. For Jack. Always for Jack.
"Please," he chokes out, "please take him to a hospital."
There's another silence. Jack coughs. Sherlock swallows, ignoring the goose bumps all over his body, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He can't breathe.
The older man smirks. "No, but thank you for saying it." And They turn to leave. Sherlock is after Them like a hare. He grabs the Witch's sleeve and receives a punch to the jaw for his efforts. "Please, PLEASE! I'll do whatever you want, you can do whatever you want with me, anything, I don't care anymore, I'm begging you, please."
He clasps one of Their legs and gets a kick in the stomach. He curls onto his side, groaning.
"I'm disappointed in you, Sherlock. What happened to that young, spiteful boy we brought into our home? I preferred him to the quivering mess you are now. We'll be back tomorrow."
The door closes behind Them. Sherlock leaps to his feet and bangs on it desperately, his right leg stretched out behind him as Chain refuses to let him get closer to the exit. Jack watches him silently. Sherlock eventually collapses onto the floor and buries his face in his hands. He'd been so sure. He'd been so sure.
"Am I in trouble?" whispers Jack, sadly.
Sherlock picks himself up and makes his way over to Bed. "No, of course not. This isn't your fault," he grips his hair and tugs hard. "Okay. Okay. Right, okay," he kisses Jack's head, his eyes determined and hard. "Plan B."