His Return and Her Fall ((Parent!Lock))

Chapter Nine - Farewell

[ The snow feels like ice burning our skin this Christmas. Dad and I have been staying low as best we could, and the paparazzi have finally left us be. It's been nearly half a year since Haley and Papa have been taken, and I think Dad's given up hope. Again. I haven't, knowing what Papa's capable of against Moriarty. He's come back, though. He came to the flat last week and wished us best, a smile on his face and his eyes cold and dead, like how Dad must feel without Haley and Papa. ]

The youngest leans back from the screen, wiping the streams of tears of his face as the snow falls against the building and the silence pushes against his already pressed in feelings. 

[ I sit in my room, waiting for Dad to call for dinner. I've done that for a while now, and he hasn't called still. For weeks he hasn'teaten and Mom and Irene have come over to help out. Mom says that she's trying her best with Dad, Irene making sure I'm alright, but I'm not so sure myself. To be honest, I don't think she is either. Ever since Ms. Hudson's funeral, everything's gone quiet. ]

"Deary! Come down for supper!" Sarah calls, his glasses slipping from his nose. He pushes them back up, shutting his laptop and jumping from his bed. Something pulls him to stop, his brown eyes averting to the bed beside his. Haley's. The sheets undisturbed from the wreck they usually were. Her stuffs perfectly still, but he thought he could see them all dying inside, as if their faces were contorted to show sadness, if they could.

Snapping back to reality, Hamish sighs and runs from his room and down the stairs, into the main flat. Sarah greets him with a warm smile and the deepening wrinkles by her eyes. She was tired, and so was John, as he could tell. He was just sitting in his seat, looking to the plate of corn chowder soup and chips before him. Irene was already digging into hers, dressed in a kimono and her hair pulled into a bun, her usual outfit. John was wearing a sweater and his jammy trousers, as Sarah called them. 

"Mom, can I type my blog up while I eat?" the child asks, pushing his glasses back up. The woman looks to her mate, then to Irene who looks to her for an answer. "I can still eat and not get my plate mussy, nor my keys." She sighs, nodding and waving him off as she sets his plate down at his spot. He runs back up as she takes her seat. 

Sarah Teller, long brown hair and John's first mate according to... him. Well, while they first settled into the flat and John took his position at the hospital. She was still the love of his life, but he was more than he ever could imagine. Thankfully after so many mates later and a marriage proposal, she agreed to have the child of John's dreams, Hamish David Holmes-Watson. 

"John, you need to eat something," Sarah scolds, pushing his plate towards him and taking a chip, putting it in the soup for him. He only watches her hand as it move about his food, not wanting to move, other than to take a piss or to go to bed, alone. Sarah offered to sleep in the bed with him, but he kindly declined, as he did so with Irene. Hmaish ran back down, setting his laptop upon the table and taking a few chips, stuffing his mouth to avoid conversation.

[ Eating dinner has gone more quiet by the day, Dad not eating and Mom getting fussier about it. She once lashed, but Irene caught her before a domestic could go down. Tonight is corn chowder and chips, just like last week when al Irene wanted was this. She used to say that before I was born, Haley would make faces at her when she visited because she never liked the smell of chips. I don't think she does still, or before. I like them, and I know Dad does, but he's too quiet to say anything about it.]

"How was school today, love?" Irene asks, sipping her tea that smelled of blueberry pancakes. There was a cup before him as well, but he was still chewing his chips to answer. So, simply answered, he nodded and continued to type.

[ It's not the same with him quiet. He doesn't laugh and light up the room anymore. He doesn't talk on the phone with anyone and texts me only when he wants to know something, which, to be honest, isn't that often anymore. We think he's depressed and all we can hope is that Moriarty gives our family back so we can live all together again, like we should. For now I sign off. Signed dearly, Hamish David Holmes-Watson. ]