Salt in the wounds chapter is up. second to last. One more to go:
Another Salt in the Wounds chapter is up. Two more left, I do believe. World War II has begun in earnest:
Okay doke, the next Salt in the Wounds chapter is up: April 1938
I think there’s maybe 3 chapters left?
Next chapter of salt in the wounds is up!
May 1933 – Hamish is getting older and it’s time he knew some things.
teaser below the cut
John walked out of Mrs. Hudson’s shop when he heard the shouting. He turned the corner just in time to see Hamish take a swing at one of the three boys surrounding him. He connected solidly and the other two jumped on him. Hamish struggled to throw them off, but the boys broke and ran when John reached them with a solid hand on their shoulders, helping the one Hamish had punched. John turned Hamish and saw tears in his eyes as he breathed heavily, wiping at his eyes.
John met his eyes. “You’re fifteen, Hamish, you don’t get into fights. Tell me what happened.”
Hamish shook his head and turned away from his father.
John took a deep breath. “Come on then, Mrs. Hudson has tea.”
Allowing himself to be led into the shop, John settled him in Mrs. Hudson’s back room, sharing a worried look with her. Once he had the boy settled, he followed Mrs. Hudson back out to the front. “I want to know what those boys said. Hamish’s never started a fight in his life.”
Mrs. Hudson glanced towards the back room. “Oh there’s always rumors.”
John narrowed his eyes. He knew he didn’t spend much time in the village, but he’d been trying to encourage Hamish to take the boat and go by himself. After all, he had to learn to deal with people. So he’d been helping out Mrs. Hudson a few times a week during the day. “You must tell me.”
Finally got the next chapter up of my selkie fic.
November 1931 – Hamish is growing up fast, and John relies on him when they go out for a rescue.
teaser below the cut
John carried in an armload of wood, quickly shutting the door against the cold sleeting rain. The radio played softly, some wordless music while Hamish leaned over his maths homework. John couldn’t help but smile as he watched his son and crossed to the fireplace. Hamish had reached that gangly stage of thirteen when he was all limbs and nothing seemed to work together quite how it was supposed to. Putting the logs down and feeding one into the fire, he spoke without looking over at him. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad,” grumbled Hamish, fisting his hands in his curly hair. “At least maths make sense.”
“Don’t neglect your literature though,” said John, standing and thumping a thick volume by Hamish’s elbow.
Hamish rolled his eyes and picked up his pen again. John ruffled his hair and Hamish batted his hand away. Still smiling, John reached over and turned the radio up as the news came on. More bad news about factories closing and unemployment going up. John was very glad he didn’t have to worry about that. There were rumors Mycroft might close the factory in town, but so far he’d been making every effort to avoid it. John took fewer supplies from Mrs. Hudson and slipped a little extra money into the woman’s pocket. He was considering asking Mycroft to reduce his stipend. After all, everyone needed to pitch in.
He picked up some sewing and settled in by the fire. Hamish was growing so fast John was half-tempted to put him in a skirt. Already it was clear he’d be taller than his father, not that it was particularly hard to do. He turned the work towards the light of the fire, listening to the storm kicking up stronger outside, body tensing as he knew this was just the sort of weather they got called out in.
Sure enough, the wireless crackled to life. “John.” John dropped his sewing and went to answer while Hamish turned off the radio and got up to fetch their supplies.
“Here, Mrs. Hudson, what is it?” answered John.
“Family of five was due up here an hour ago from a village south. They never arrived.”
“We’re on it,” said John, taking his mackinaw from Hamish. At least they had a powered little boat now that made it much easier in weather like this. He quickly banked the fire before heading out, ducking his head against the driving weather, Hamish on his heels.
In a few minutes they were heading out, Hamish manning the spotlight up front while John steered the boat. The wind and waves whipped cold and salty around them, making it difficult to see. “There,” shouted Hamish over the roar of sea and engine, pointing at Sherlock’s dark form, barely visible above the crashing waves. A faint bark carried above the noise and Hamish shouted directions to his Dad as Sherlock led them across the stormy bay, light of the village just visible in the distance off to the right.
Hey look, I did manage to get a new Salt in the Wounds chapter up!
July 1926 – An idyllic morning is shattered by a gunshot echoing across the bay.
Teaser below the cut
John woke early from habit. He stretched in his bed, glancing out the window. Dawn barely peeked over the horizon, a day promising to be warm and calm as the last two weeks. They could all use some rain, but July days like this weren’t bad at all.
Making his way to his dresser and the bowl of water there, John splashed his face and looked in the mirror. . Gray was starting to come into his temples now, just a few strands that told him his twenties were behind him. His body was still firm and strong though, tanned from the sun and hands roughened by work. There hadn’t been anyone in need of rescuing for a while, but of course they were always ready. Downstairs he could hear the kettle starting to boil, which told him Hamish was awake.
By the time he shaved and dressed, Hamish was setting the table. John had always been an early riser, but Hamish had him beat. He smiled at his son; eight years old, slender and strong for his age, dark hair always wild. There were always more rescues in the winter, so instead of attending the village school regularly, John taught him using lesson plans from the schoolmaster, bringing Hamish in once a month or so for the schoolmaster to test, depending on the weather. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, but currently he was free for the summer.
And Hamish already had breakfast and tea ready. John knew he was excited to be going fishing. He loved the water and being out on it. Unlike John, he’d even learned to swim a bit. John took his place at the table and sipped his tea. “Thank you.”
Hamish smiled and picked up his own fork. “You’re welcome.” He dug in with the sort of appetite a young boy could muster. John ate a bit slower, knowing they would still get out on the water before the day got too hot.
Hey look, I did manage to get a new Salt in the Wounds chapter up!
July 1926 – An idyllic morning is shattered by a gunshot echoing across the bay.
Teaser below the cut
John woke early from habit. He stretched in his bed, glancing out the window. Dawn barely peeked over the horizon, a day promising to be warm and calm as the last two weeks. They could all use some rain, but July days like this weren’t bad at all.
Making his way to his dresser and the bowl of water there, John splashed his face and looked in the mirror. . Gray was starting to come into his temples now, just a few strands that told him his twenties were behind him. His body was still firm and strong though, tanned from the sun and hands roughened by work. There hadn’t been anyone in need of rescuing for a while, but of course they were always ready. Downstairs he could hear the kettle starting to boil, which told him Hamish was awake.
By the time he shaved and dressed, Hamish was setting the table. John had always been an early riser, but Hamish had him beat. He smiled at his son; eight years old, slender and strong for his age, dark hair always wild. There were always more rescues in the winter, so instead of attending the village school regularly, John taught him using lesson plans from the schoolmaster, bringing Hamish in once a month or so for the schoolmaster to test, depending on the weather. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, but currently he was free for the summer.
And Hamish already had breakfast and tea ready. John knew he was excited to be going fishing. He loved the water and being out on it. Unlike John, he’d even learned to swim a bit. John took his place at the table and sipped his tea. “Thank you.”
Hamish smiled and picked up his own fork. “You’re welcome.” He dug in with the sort of appetite a young boy could muster. John ate a bit slower, knowing they would still get out on the water before the day got too hot.