The Perk | Saturday Morning

[begmetwice]

It was incredibly fortunate, Irene reflected over her morning tea today, that she had left Margo and Eliot's house last night rather than this morning.

It was also incredibly fortunate that she'd been here before, and thus hadn't had a very bad reaction to the little stranger who'd woken her up this morning. (Granted, murmuring, "Oh, shit," upon seeing a small child probably wasn't the best reaction, either, but at least she'd recognized him, right?)

"Drink your tea, Hamish," she gently scolded the six year-old Burberry-clad, curly-headed little boy seated across from her. "No, before you finish your scone, love. Stop just crumbling it up, it's unbecoming and you're making a mess for no reason."

Ugh. Spitting image of his father in every way.

[so open!]

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[brainyledtobaby]

"What if someone's hidden something in it?" Hamish retorted, glancing up from his important scone experiment to frown at his mother. "I saw that on telly once. Someone put a thing to saw bars off a jail cell in a cake."

[begmetwice]

"A file," Irene supplied, watching him over her tea. "Why would someone bake a file into a scone here, though?"

Damn it, Hamish, now she was going to be vaguely concerned about this for awhile.

[brainyledtobaby]

"No one would suspect it," Hamish told her in an undertone, glancing around the shop.

And then eating a bit of his scone. No one seemed to have baked anything into it, which if he was honest, was a bit disappointing, really.

[begmetwice]

"I think you're just being silly," Irene decided, shaking her head at him. "The only reason to bake a file into a cake would be if you were in jail, and you're right here, aren't you?"

A pause as a thought occurred to her -- one she should have asked much earlier, but to be fair, she'd been a bit preoccupied with the appearance of a child and making sure she hadn't left anything out he oughtn't see. (And then she'd had to wind him through Dite's with a hand over his eyes.)

"Where's your father?"

[brainyledtobaby]

Hamish declined to answer, instead deciding now was the perfect time to drink his tea as his mother had instructed.

Couldn't answer that question if his mouth was full of tea!

[begmetwice]

"I'll wait," she replied simply, folding her hands on the table and smiling at her son.

(Oh, God, look at her thinking that way. But also -- that was an Adler tactic if she'd ever seen one, too. Clumsily deployed at a primary school level, but all the same.)

[brainyledtobaby]

Hamish held his tea in his mouth for a long moment before swallowing -- he knew this was called stalling -- and ultimately decided to be honest. It seemed...easier?

And also he didn't like lying to his mum.

"Dad said I wasn't to tell you anything about him while I visit."

[begmetwice]

"Of course he did."

Of course he did.

Much though Irene was tempted to swear the child to secrecy about what they got up to this weekend, she also wasn't especially inclined to put her child -- alternate universe or not -- in the middle of Adler-Holmes mind games. Lord knew that was probably most of his life, anyway.

She reached across the table to steal a bit of scone, chewing thoughtfully. "Well. What would you like to do with our visit, then, Hamish?"

[brainyledtobaby]

....hmm.

He didn't often get offered the choice of what to do, since his parents were usually quite busy and Hamish spent more time with his nanny than with either of them. (Because, yes, that was something he was keeping quite secret, too. Mummy existed back home, but she didn't need to know about that.)

The prospect of spending an uninterrupted afternoon with his mysterious mother was appealing enough, but he got to decide what they did?

"Can I see the place where you put your hand on my eyes?" he asked. Best to start with the obviously-forbidden thing first and work his way back.

[begmetwice]

"Absolutely not." She was not going to attempt to explain anything in that store to a six year-old. "Something else. We could go to the park, or shopping or...get ice creams later?"

What else did children like? Irene had been a fussy, particular child. She would have loved an afternoon of shopping and ice cream and then primly washing her hands after.

[brainyledtobaby]

"Can we do science?" Hamish finally landed on, tilting his head at her in genuine curiosity. "Dad said we could do science after my violin lesson yesterday, but then Uncle John took him on a case."

Much though one could swear a six year-old to secrecy, some things were still going to slip through the cracks.

[begmetwice]

"What sort of science?" Irene asked, her wariness offset by everything she'd picked up in that admission. Violin lesson. Uncle John.

Interesting.

[brainyledtobaby]

"What sort of science is there to do here?" Hamish asked plaintively. "Dad said we could make a volcano."

So best go get that bicarb soda and vinegar, Mum. Seemed just like her sort of project.

[begmetwice]

"Maybe we'll see if we have enough wind to fly a kite," Irene suggested, just neatly ignoring the idea of making a volcano. Please. "Or we can do something at the seaside. Go look for...tide pools or something."

Fandom almost certainly did not have tide pools, but she'd also never investigated.