Hotel Sheldon, Toronto, 1910, Wednesday Late Morning

[pocketpretzels]

Watts's sleep last night had been somewhat restless; their small supply of 21st century painkillers had been depleted (funny, none of them had anticipated Watts being shot at by a sniper when packing for this particular trip) so his arm ached.

Which was making things like putting on his necktie this morning a struggle.

"Damn it all."

Steven	"Want me to give it a go?" Steven asked. He wasn't as good at it as Llewellyn but at least he didn't have being shot to deal with.
Watts	"If you would," Watts said, shoulders slumping a little in relief.
Steven	"Shame I can't wrap you up in the armor," Steven said. He meant armor specifically because he wondered if maybe Marc's cape could do in a pinch. Sadly no. Only the wearer got the healing benefit and Marc and Steven wold both be damned before letting Khonshu have anything to do with Llewellyn. "Don't much care for you being hurt." Steven worked on Llewellyn's tie. He moved slowly and methodically, so he didn't get it wrong, even from this angle.
Watts	"Can't say I'm terribly fond of it either." Some people enjoyed pain. Llewellyn Watts was not one of those people.
Steven	"At least you're alive to feel it?" Steven offered, as what even he knew was a thin attempt at a bright side. But the mental image of what it might have looked like if Llewellyn had been shot somewhere beside his arm was going to be haunting Steven for a while. Steven checked his work then smoothed out Llewellyn's tie with one hand. It wasn't a complicated knot, but it'd get the job done. "There. How's that?"
Watts	"Perfectly suitable," Watts said, after glancing down to inspect Steven's handiwork. "Thank you." He tucked it in under his waistcoat and was about to reach for his suit jacket when there was a knock at the door. "I'm not expecting anyone," he said with a slight frown. And given that the only people Steven knew here were the ones Watts had introduced him to, he doubted Steven was either. "It's George," Watts reported, after peering through the peephole in the door. "Shall I let him in?"
Steven	Steven had been further along in dress than Llewellyn had. But there was one thing missing so he did ask, quietly so George couldn't hear, "Do I need to put my hat on?"
Watts	"Not until we leave the room," Watts murmured in an equally quiet tone. Though it wasn't as if George would've judged Steven for the question; he'd been to Fandom, after all, and had seen how hats had fallen out of fashion.
Steven	"'George' or 'Constable'?" Steven asked, still whispering.
Watts	"Constable," Watts replied. George likely wouldn't have minded Steven using his given name, honestly, but Watts figured it was best to give Steven a single definitive answer rather than muddy the issue with 'either is fine, probably', and since he'd shown up in uniform chances were his reasons for being here were related to police business.
	"Right," Steven said. He was as ready as he could be for visitors then. He'd probably be less so if he remembered that their beds were still pushed together, but in his defense there were a lot of details he was trying to get right. Like names.
Watts	Watts had not forgotten about the beds. Literally the only reason he'd even considered opening the door was that this was George Crabtree, who he trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt to be discreet. About this, at least. "George," he said, as he opened the door for the constable. "What brings you by?"
Crabtree	"Well, sir," George began, with, yes, a glance around the room that settled on the beds for just a moment, followed by a nod of acknowledgement for Steven before settling back on Watts's face. "The Inspector has a message for you."
Watts	"Does he now," Watts said flatly, still not entirely sure how he felt about Inspector Brackenreid right now.
Crabtree	"Indeed he does, sir," George confirmed. "It seems there was a private investigator sniffing around the station this morning, looking for you."
Watts	"Looking for me?" Watts echoed, frowning. "Whatever for?"
Crabtree	And now George looked deeply, deeply uncomfortable. "Well, sir. The private investigator- one Mr. Felding- was hired by a Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright. And it isn't so much you they're looking for so much as a Mr. Jack Walker. They're looking to get their grandson back from him, you see."
Steven	Steven of course wanted to say hello to George and see how he was doing. But given the uniform and demeanor Steven figured it was police business best not interrupted. At least until a certain name was mentioned. "Jack?" Steven glanced towards Llewellyn, then back to George. "Well bloody good luck there, it's not as though we've seen him in Fandom."
Watts	"No," Watts agreed. "But there was- the letter, from New York, remember?" he said. The letter where Jack had entreated him to come meet him there, to start a new life... Which might have been tempting, once upon a time. But Watts had a good life in Fandom, someone he loved dearly and who loved him in return. So he'd tossed out the letter and never bothered writing a response.
Steven	Someone who loved Llewellyn unconditionally for who he was in every aspect of him as a person. Someone who would also gladly help in this situation, once he knew what the right sort of help was to offer. "Should we tell them?" Steven asked. "The murder's been taken care of, yeah? Clara's? Safe for Jack to come home then?"
Watts	Watts winced. "That's not- the only reason he left," he said. "I believe he felt the baby- would not flourish in the care of his grandparents. From what little he told me of Clara's upbringing, the Cartwrights were, ah. Quite firm with the rod. If you get my meaning."
Steven	Steven stilled. He made very certain there was nothing filtering through to Marc as the memory he wasn't supposed to have, wasn't meant to have, came to him. "It's not Mom. It's not my mom. It's not my mom, it's not my mom - " "Open this door right now!" "I - I see," Steven said. He twisted his hands together. "And Jack? He'd be good?"
Watts	"He thinks of the boy as his own son," Watts said. For all the issues he and Jack had, Watts knew that Jack loved Samuel. "He loves him. He'd never let anyone hurt him."
Crabtree	"Problem is," George interjected. "The Cartwrights have a much stronger legal claim, given that they're blood-related to the child. As well as the matter of Mr. Walker's, ah," here he visibly winced, "... history of being picked up for indecency."
Steven	Steven glanced nervously at Llewellyn, since he knew what "indecency" meant. "So better to help... pass the message on?" Steven said, wondering if they needed to say things in a way that would give George plausible deniability. "Let him know the grandparents are worried?"
Watts	"Only, we can't just up and leave," Watts shook his head. "We've still got- unfinished business here."
Crabtree	"If you don't mind me saying so, sir, no you don't," George countered. "Detective Murdoch apprehended Frank Rhodes last night. And as for Mr. Majors... Mrs. Hart's finished her examination. Apparently the man died of a brain embolism. No foul play involved there."
Watts	Watts supposed he owed Brackenreid an apology for that one, then. "So- you're up for that, then?" Watts checked. "A trip to New York?" Yes, Steven had been the one to suggest it, but he wanted to be sure.
Steven	Meeting Llewellyn's ex was not high on the list of things Steven ever wanted to do, but if it was to help out a child he didn't mind, no. "If you're all right leaving Toronto," Steven said. Then, because he was curious andhe didn’t know if he’d have another chance, he whispered at George, "In the meanwhile, can I ask how you're doing or is that not allowed when you're working?" The etiquette of the time was a lot to remember.
Crabtree	"You can ask how I'm doing," George confirmed, with a pleased little grin that Steven would even want to. "Which is well, by the way. Book's near finished."
Steven	"Is it?" Steven asked, delighted. "Will we be able to see a copy before it's published? I mean I'd love a signed version when it is as well. Still. Can't wait to read it."
Crabtree	"Before it's- the finished manuscript, you mean?" George said. "I suppose I could send you a copy in the mail. And your friend will be getting one as well, of course. A finished one, I mean. Couldn't have done it without her help."
Steven	"I didn't know if maybe - " Steven looked at Llewellyn uncertainly " - review copies? Are sometimes done? Not as fancy in the printing. But if it's easier to wait for print that's more than all right. We'll both be thrilled to read it. Layla and me." Also Marc. Marc would read the hell out of that. And then text Layla repeatedly.
Watts	"Galley proofs," Watts supplied. "But those are meant for- final editing and the like."
Steven	"Oh, I see," Steven said. It was definitely much easier in the modern day when all of it could be handled electronically. To George, then, he said, "We can wait for the final copy then. But eager to read it, for certain."
Crabtree	"That's good to hear, and I promise I'll have your copy in the mail as soon as I get them from the printer," George said earnestly. "Now, ah. If there isn't anything else... I should probably get back to the station house."
Watts	"Thank you, George," Watts said with a nod. "I- appreciate you stopping by with the update."
Steven	"Good to see you again," Steven added.
Crabtree	"Good day, sir, Steven," George said with a nod to both of them as Watts opened the door to let him out.
Watts	And once George was out of the room and the door shut behind him, Watts turned to Steven. "Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "I suppose we'd better get packing." Was he particularly looking forward to introducing Steven to his ex? Or even seeing Jack again at all? No, really, really not.

[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Extremely loosely based on S16E01 of Murdoch Mysteries, Sometimes They Come Back, Part I. Preplayed with the invaluable assistance of hasaknightjob.]