The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 18

After John had spent a good portion of his afternoon pouring over his "letter" from Sherlock – at the end wondering idly how accurate the sketches included were, he began another letter to his intended.  He kept his salutation and greeting brief, knowing that Sherlock would either skip over these or discard the letter immediately if he thought the entire letter was composed of platitudes.

He wrote: Preparations for my removal to London continue.  I look forward to our meeting in London at Lord Sherrinford's home a week hence.  I enjoyed reading your notes on the ghoulish case of the abandoned hands, but had a few questions.  The sketches show an excess of skin around the wrist; also, indications of disjointment instead of severing.  Would this be the case?  I find this highly unusual.

John closed his brief letter with, Yours, J.H. Watson, Capt. (ret.)

He didn't need to mention the tailor that arrived from London, apparently at Lord Sherrinford's request and with the same footing the bill.  Sherlock likely wouldn't care that John had spent the better part of a day being moved around and prodded as he was fitted for not only his wedding suit but apparently an entire trousseau as well. 

Sherlock didn't need to know that John felt somewhat humiliated in being outfitted like a bride by his intended family, nor that he'd only accepted the clothes because otherwise he'd be an embarrassment to his future husband dressed in his more rustic and outdated wardrobe.

John also didn't need to mention the blistering row he'd had with Harry over the documents Lord Sherrinford had sent along for Harry and his solicitor.

"I don't see why I can't read them, Harry!  They concern me more so than they concern you!  I want to see exactly what Lord Sherrinford is paying for me."

"It isn't any of your business, John."

"The hell it isn't!"

Harry looked startled.  The butler, Meade, stood quite still with the post still on its tray.  He stepped back as Harry rounded on John, anger bulking him up.  He stood over his shorter brother, towering, but John stood his ground.  If anything, John became more resolute.

"This is my life; this is our father's estate.  You will show me every penny you're getting and I will make sure it gets to where it needs to be!"

"That is not your place!"  Harry shouted at him, but the statement made John blindingly furious.

"My place?"

"Those contracts concern the estate, John.  You are part of that, not the head of it."

John drew back, shocked.

"If you could have made your feelings for me any more clear, Harry Watson, we could hang them for glass in the conservatory."  John had finally stalked away, the curved wood of his cane grasped so tightly that it nearly came to either the cane would break or John's finger bones would.

Later, after Harry was drunk and abed, John broke into the study.  Harry always locked the door, but of course, Meade had the key.  Meade wasn't particularly torn about handing it over to John, either.  He let the young man into the study, promising to turn up first thing in the morning to lock it again so Harry would be none the wiser.

John didn't know why he'd sought permission.  If he'd expected kindness and reason from his brother, he'd apparently not met him.  Harry had not allowed John's advice on the finances since John had been home (despite taking John's pittance of a pension for household expenses); and while he'd occasionally asked for John's opinion before he'd left for war, it was more in polite conversation rather than with any real desire for his input. 

John spent some time looking through the account books too.  The figures were astounding, particularly in the columns owed.  They, no, Harry would certainly have lost the estate in a matter of months.  No amount of juggling could have saved it in the end.  It was amazing he'd kept it up as long as he did.  Not that Harry deserved the easy path in all this. 

John finally opened the box from London, with the self-admonition to not shuffle things awry since the solicitor was coming the next day to go through them with Harry and the need for reorganization would alert Harry to John's interference.  John cut the tie on the neatly wrapped package of papers.

John couldn't understand every bit of it, but he could understand sums, even sums as large as these.  Not only was Lord Sherrinford paying every debt (and he certainly listed in depth every single debt, even ones Harry did not list in the account books) but he was supplying Harry a great deal of money towards the running of the estate for the next two years.  If Harry was able to keep the estate profitable, Lord Sherrinford would be termed an investor and Harry would begin to pay dividends out of his estate income.  John did a few sums on the foolscap and estimated it would take decades to pay out the money Lord Sherrinford was giving them, even if he wasn't asking for interest.

Many addendums were added in case of John's death, Sherlock's death, Harry's or Lord Sherrinford's death without legitimate issue.  Harry made out well enough in any case, and John's allowance would be continued.  John felt slightly guilty over this; Harry at least had been negotiating for John, not just himself.

It was well past three in the morning when John finally tidied up the pages, tied them again with the string Harry had in one of his desk drawers, and placed the closed box quite precisely where he'd found it.

No, Sherlock wouldn't be interested in any of this and John himself would be glad to be rid of the worry of it.  In just over a week, he'd be married, out of his brother's house and, much as Sherlock had declared, abundant in freedom.