SHERLOCK - And Here's a Hand, My Trusty Friend ch4

“How fast do you think we’re going, Harry?” John knelt in his seat, his face and both hands pressed tight against the cold window of the train. The eight year-old was was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Fast? How should I know?” Harry shrugged without looking up from her magazine.

“Well, how long until we get there?” Keeping his forehead pressed to the glass, John slowly rotated his head so he could get the best view of the horizon rushing ever toward them. It seemed like the front of the train was gobbling up the track ahead of them, but no matter how fast they went, they would never catch that distant point.

Rocking his head in the other direction, he watched the used up track disappear behind them. He realized that he didn’t recognize any of the things they were passing by, and maybe he never would. But it was too late, because they were gone too quickly. His eyes widened at the bigness of the thought.

John suddenly felt very small. And very overwhelmed.

“Harry?” He whispered and looked over his shoulder at his older sister.

“What, John? What is it now?” Harry snapped in exasperation. She fixed him with her best put-upon-twelve-year-old-girl glare.

Dropping his head to break the eye contact, John turned to press his forehead against the cool glass once more. His tone less excited, he mumbled, “I… Uhm, I said, how long until we get there?”

“A few hours, I guess?” Harry stretched and finally turned to look at her brother. She giggled at the sight. John was small for his age, one of the smallest in his class, even smaller than most of the girls. He was wearing a grey, nondescript jumper that was almost a full size too large for him. It was the nicest jumper he owned, and it had been Harry’s when she was the same age. He loved it for that reason alone. Harry couldn’t help smiling.

“How many hours?” John pressed.

“I don’t know, Ish. Maybe three? Why are you in a hurry? I thought you wanted to live on the train forever.” Harry made a face.

“I do!” John giggled. “But I also want to go to Gran’s house! So, I need to know how long I get to stay on the train,” John reasoned. Harry nodded at the eight year-old logic.

“Well, you’re the one with the watch. Keep track of it.” She motioned to his wrist.

“Oh! I forgot!” He turned in his seat to face Harry. Still kneeling, he sat back on his heels and admired the timepiece. It wasn’t anything spectacular. Upon a truly close inspection, a discerning eye would see immediately what poor condition it was in; the plated gold was worn almost through to the cheaper metals underneath, and the red leather band was dull and cracked.

Mum had given them their Christmas gifts early, since Gran had sent for them to come visit her for Christmas. Mum had managed to scrape enough money together, without Jonathan finding out, to buy the watch from the corner pawn shop. She sat on John’s bed and pulled him into her lap.

“Johnnie, I love you so much. You are getting so big, and one day, soon, you are going to be a brave, strong, kind man who is going to help and take care of people. And a good man needs a good watch.” Mum had pulled the used watch from her pocket then, and slowly fastened it John’s wrist. “This one… This one isn’t very special. It’s not as good as you deserve, my beautiful, sweet boy. And I’m sorry that it isn’t a left handed watch, and that the leather is cracked and the gold is dull. But if you take very good care of it, when you’re older, I promise, you’ll have the best, most beautiful watch any man could ever dream of having. Because you will be a very good man, Johnnie. I promise.”

With his most brilliant smile, John had turned to thank mum, only to find her crying. “Mum! Don’t cry!” He had kissed her cheek, hugged her tight, and repeated over and over, “I love it. Thank you. I love it so much, mum. And I love you. Thank you, mum. Please don’t cry. Thank you.”

Harry was called over then, because John had wrapped himself around mum, and had anchored her in place. “My dear, lovely girl. You are more beautiful than you will ever truly understand. Your heart is magnificent, and you love deeply. You are bold, and smart, and courageous in ways I will never be. I love you so much, and I want you to have this. My heart.” Mum held up a beautiful silver, heart shaped locket. “Gran gave it to me when I was a girl, and I want you to have it now.” Inside the locket, mum had placed a picture of herself with Harry’s real father, and a picture of Harry holding John as a baby. She slide the necklace over Harry’s head, and admired it on her daughter. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

Blinking back tears, Harry gazed out the window of the train. She felt pressure on her shoulder, and startled back to the present. “Ish?” John pressed up as close to her side as physically possible and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Are you sad, Harry? I thought you love going to Gran’s house.” He blinked up at her with eyes that were too wise for someone so small.

“Oh, Ish. I’m not sad. I’m just thinking of mum. I hope she’s not too lonely without us.” Harry hugged her brother to her.

“I miss her too,” John whispered.

“How do you always know what I’m really thinking, Ish? Are you a wizard?” With a giggle, Harry tightened her right arm around John, and lunged to tickle him with her left hand.

“No, Harry!” John squealed with laughter and scrambled back away from her. Eyes wild with panic, he covered his mouth with both hands to stifle his giggles. He looked around the train car. The couple seated in front of them looked back and smiled. The old man behind them grumbled. John didn’t to make the man angry, but he just couldn’t help it. His whole body shook as he tried to recover from the tickles.

“Not fair, Harry!” John tried to keep his voice low. He watched Harry carefully.

“What’s not fair?” She lunged to try to tickle him again.

Trying his very hardest not to scream, John couldn’t help a few high pitched laughs from escaping. He put both hands out against Harry’s forehead and tried to shove her away. “Har… Harry… stop!” He gasped. “You… you’re too big!”

Putting on her best pouting face she crossed her arms over her chest. “Too big? Too big? I’ll show you!” She slid over hard, and crammed John into the corner of his seat. “Ah, finally, plenty of space for me!” She giggled.

“Harry!” John laughed. He shoved at her with a grunt. “Get off, you… you… great wildebeest!”

Stunned Harry sat up and looked at John. “Harry… I…” Before he could apologize, Harry snorted in laughter, which made her laugh even harder.

“Wi-wildebeest? Oh my god, Ish. Where did that come from?” Harry laughed so hard she was crying.

“Harry… Shhh…” John was giggling uncontrollably too. “Shhh… Harry… We can’t be so loud on the train. What if they make us get off?”

“Where will they send us?” Harry motioned out the window to the wide open countryside. “Out with the wildebeests?” She giggle-snorted again, and that set John off once more.

“Harry…” John giggled. “Harry… Shhh…” He leaned toward her, blushing, and whispered. “I hafta go to the loo.”

With a wave of her hand in the direction of the loo, Harry shook her head. “Such a baby.” John shoved her away with a grin and trotted off.

Still giggling, Harry pulled her backpack out from under the seat, pulled out the book she had brought along, and the bag of biscuits Mrs. McMillan had sent for their trip.

“What’s this?” John snatched up the book and plopped onto the seat with a bounce. “‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.’ What’s that? Is it scary?”

Very gently, Harry took the book from her brother, and opened up the front cover, revealing childish scrawl. This book belongs to Ailie Ferguson. John looked up at her with those questioning, brilliant blue eyes, and Harry thought her heart would melt. “This was mum’s favorite book when she was a girl. She gave it to me,” Harry pointed to her name, Harry Watson, scribbled underneath the first name. “I wanted to share it with you.”

John nodded, suddenly serious with the weighty responsibility of holding mum’s most favorite book in his hands.

“C’mon then,” Harry pulled John against her side, and wrapped an arm around him. “Do you want to read, or do you want me to?”

“You.” John’s voice was small. He handed the book to her with a smile. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry planted a kiss on the crown of his head, and hugged John tight. She handed him the bag of biscuits and started reading. “‘Chapter One, Lucy Looks Into a Wardrobe…’”