5 Conversations, 7 Meetings and Several Unexpected Gifts (2/?)
anonymous
September 2 2010, 11:08:23 UTC
He gets the call from Lestrade. He thinks that’s the man’s way of trying to help.
“Dr Watson?”
“If you’re trying to get in touch with Sherlock I don’t know where he is.”
“No... actually I wanted to talk to you. Do you - ah - do you know a Robert and Hannah Saunders?”
“Robert?” John asks, repeating the name as his mind tries to catch up with what is happening. “Yes, what’s going on?”
“Look, Doctor... J- Doctor Watson. I...” he can hear Lestrade draw in a deep breath and settle himself. As soon as he’s managed to get himself under control he reverts back to formula. John knows the feeling - he’s had to tell men they’re dying before and it’s easier to quote the words, especially with people you know. “I’m sorry to inform you that Robert and Hannah Saunders were found dead in their home yesterday.”
John’s leg gives way. He hasn’t seen them in months, almost a year it must be. Not since... not since the christening.
“You’re listed as their next of kin I... I said I’d.”
“The baby,” John interrupts. “Where is she? Is she okay? What happened?”
“I-” John knows he’s about to be given the ‘I can’t tell you any details at this time’ speech, he’s heard Lestrade give it to relatives and loved ones before.
“Don’t.” He cuts the man off before he can even reach the second word. “What. Happened.”
“It looks like murder,” Lestrade tells him. “They left the child unharmed.”
“Thank God.” John’s not sure he believes in God, but he’s not above using the name, even if it is in vain. “Where is she?”
“Social services at the moment,” Lestrade says. “Are you...?”
*
He hadn’t been expecting the second call. Not really. Godfather was a nice title, but it wasn’t official, not in the UK anyway and he had thought it a nice gesture but not.
“You were listed in their will as having custody of the child, Doctor Watson.”
He looks around the Baker Street flat, at the blade stuck in the mantelpiece and the bullet holes in the wall. There is something that might be a preserved brain on the desk and something that looks very much like a cutlass sticking out from under the sofa.
Custody.
He considers saying ‘no, no and hell no’ but then he thinks about who else there is. Hannah was an orphan, Robert too. No family. But there must have been other friends, married friends.
“Dr Watson?”
“If you’re trying to get in touch with Sherlock I don’t know where he is.”
“No... actually I wanted to talk to you. Do you - ah - do you know a Robert and Hannah Saunders?”
“Robert?” John asks, repeating the name as his mind tries to catch up with what is happening. “Yes, what’s going on?”
“Look, Doctor... J- Doctor Watson. I...” he can hear Lestrade draw in a deep breath and settle himself. As soon as he’s managed to get himself under control he reverts back to formula. John knows the feeling - he’s had to tell men they’re dying before and it’s easier to quote the words, especially with people you know. “I’m sorry to inform you that Robert and Hannah Saunders were found dead in their home yesterday.”
John’s leg gives way. He hasn’t seen them in months, almost a year it must be. Not since... not since the christening.
“You’re listed as their next of kin I... I said I’d.”
“The baby,” John interrupts. “Where is she? Is she okay? What happened?”
“I-” John knows he’s about to be given the ‘I can’t tell you any details at this time’ speech, he’s heard Lestrade give it to relatives and loved ones before.
“Don’t.” He cuts the man off before he can even reach the second word. “What. Happened.”
“It looks like murder,” Lestrade tells him. “They left the child unharmed.”
“Thank God.” John’s not sure he believes in God, but he’s not above using the name, even if it is in vain. “Where is she?”
“Social services at the moment,” Lestrade says. “Are you...?”
*
He hadn’t been expecting the second call. Not really. Godfather was a nice title, but it wasn’t official, not in the UK anyway and he had thought it a nice gesture but not.
“You were listed in their will as having custody of the child, Doctor Watson.”
He looks around the Baker Street flat, at the blade stuck in the mantelpiece and the bullet holes in the wall. There is something that might be a preserved brain on the desk and something that looks very much like a cutlass sticking out from under the sofa.
Custody.
He considers saying ‘no, no and hell no’ but then he thinks about who else there is. Hannah was an orphan, Robert too. No family. But there must have been other friends, married friends.
And they had chosen him.
He’d only held the girl once.
He needed to get the place tidied up.
*
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