Archive of Our Own ^beta

1 - Inside Jokes

As Dr. Warthrop had once told me, humour was rare in his family which had naturally not been a surprise to me. He hardly ever smiled, only when danger and death were headed our way and the thrill of the unknown got a hold of him. At other times, he managed a wry smile at other people’s idiocy and ignorance to the obvious, and often enough I felt as though that most of his smiles towards me were of a condescending nature.

Ever so often, though, I would catch him looking my way and the smile on his lips wouldn’t be snide or forced -- it would be genuine and whenever one of those rare moments happened, I felt some strange kind of satisfaction pooling in the pit of my stomach, like warm honey, sweet and slick it ran through my blood.

Dr. Warthrop’s humour, if he possessed any at all, was very fine and dripping with sarcasm. If one was not attentive enough, they might have missed it but it was never lost on me. And neither was it lost on Jack Kearns.

During his stay at Harrington Lane, he would often enough try to coax the doctor into some sort of silly banter but Dr. Warthrop, as stubborn and indifferent as ever, would not give in but merely roll his eyes at Kearns while grumbling, “For God’s sake, Kearns, I would have thrown you out a long time ago if your presence wasn’t so indispensable for this task!”

He was right, of course, since even I felt slightly annoyed at the other man at times. There was something about him, his behaviour that made me feel slightly uneasy.

Whenever possible, I tried to avoid him -- I didn’t want to be left alone with Kearns and thus, when the doctor left the room, I quickly hastened after him. Then, once we were alone, Dr. Warthrop always turned around with a slightly confused, almost amused glimmer in his eyes as he looked down on me, one corner of his mouth twitching, and then he lightly patted my shoulder as if to say he understood my natural take against Kearns. This fact never failed to amuse him.

If that was as far as a so-called inside joke would go between us, then surely this was one.

2 - Making Out

With red cheeks and his head bowed, William James Henry knocked on the door, twisting the hat he had received from Dr. Warthrop not long ago in his hands as he waited for an answer. The minutes seemed to pass slowly, much too slowly for Will’s liking, and when the answer finally came, muffled by the door, he felt as though his heart had leapt up into his throat out of surprise and nervousness.

“What do you want, Will Henry?” Pellinore Warthrop asked as the boy stepped into his room, lit only by a candle. It was hot and stuffy inside, and once more Will found himself wondering how the doctor managed to sleep under these circumstances, especially when he was practically glued to the bed whenever one of his moods overcame him.
And right now, the doctor was in exactly such a mood.

“I just--” began Will, the words tumbling out of his mouth, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

The doctor heaved a grave sigh as he turned his head towards the boy, who was now standing in front of his bed, looking very much a picture of utter misery.

“Well? What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience. “If you’re going to waste my time by staying silent and being as useful as a pillar of salt, Will Henry, you might as well go.”

“No!” the boy suddenly exclaimed, which had Dr. Warthrop looking at him with one eyebrow cocked.

“I wanted to ask you, sir, if you can explain something to me.”

“I’m sure I can explain a lot to you, but the question is whether you’ll listen to me or if you are going to have your head up in the clouds yet again. as usual!” he huffed but there was a certain curiosity crossing his features that encouraged Will to go on.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered all his courage to stammer out what he wanted to ask while his eyes were fixed on his hat in his hands.

“The butcher’s son, Patrick, he said something that made me wonder.”

“Will Henry, how often have I told you not to talk to these people?” the doctor sighed but Will cut him off.

“It’s not like that!” he said, “We didn’t talk about you, sir. We, well, we talked about… about girls.”

A brief pause followed and for a moment, Will thought the doctor had fallen asleep. But when his voice could be heard, which sounded aloof and quite strange to him, he looked up at Warthrop.

“Girls, you say?” he asked as examined his fingernails, “How come?”

“As I’ve said, I talked to Patrick and he told me he had fooled around with a girl but --”

“But what?”

Will gave a helpless little shrug as the colour in his cheeks turned a few shades darker. “What does it mean?”

“Didn’t he explain it to you?”

Will only shook his head.

“Very well, then!” The doctor clapped his hands with a smile, causing Will to wince at the sound. “You don’t want to find out what it is, Will Henry. It’s not good for you -- or anybody else for that matter. It clouds your brain, numbs your senses and you will lose focus on what is important! Also,” he added as he leaned forwards towards Will, face suddenly serious and eyes watching the boy intently, “I have told you not to ever fall in love with anyone, haven’t I? Fooling around with someone can be a part of it, and it will only give you the sweet sadistic illusion of romantic feelings. It’s not worth your time. Or mine.”

“But, sir,” Will began again and Warthrop sighed, “Have you ever tried it?”

“Me? Fooling around?” The doctor’s eyes grew bigger and bigger at those words as though the sheer ridiculousness of it amazed him. “I may have tried it once or twice but I didn’t find it satisfying. It was, quite frankly, a waste of time, my dear boy, so be thankful that I’m saving yours.”

3 - Secret language/signals

It hadn’t taken me long to get acquainted with the Monstrumologist’s behaviour, his sometimes questionable antics and methods. Of course I was quite confused at first since I was only a child and had never met such an eccentric person as him before. It might not have taken me long to get to know the doctor’s character but it had taken me aeons to learn how to cope with him.

When I first witnessed Dr. Warthrop’s depression and for how long it could last, I was at loss. All my efforts to lighten his spirits were futile, neither did he listen to me nor would he get out of bed.

When he took me out on our first expedition together, I was as clumsy as can be and felt ashamed of myself when he scolded me. Working together down in his cellar wasn’t much better. I knew none of the instruments he had instructed me to hand him and in the end, he even sent me away as I was more of an obstacle to him than an assistant.

As the months passed by, I was beginning to think he would send me away eventually, perhaps to an orphanage or give me to some shop owner, such as the blacksmith down the road who was looking for an apprentice. But the doctor’s patience with me, surprisingly, lasted, and I myself felt more at ease the more I worked with him.

It was getting easier to understand what he wanted and what he needed and I strove for his approval and his praise. He kept on scolding me, called me a daydreamer and wondered out loud in front of me if I sometimes possessed a brain at all, but deep down I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me. When he showed approval, seldom as it was, I couldn’t feel happier or more content at that moment.

“Well done, Will Henry!” and a gentle squeeze of my shoulder, maybe even accompanied by a smile was enough to make up for all the things I had to endure.

In a way, I felt comfort in his strange behaviour and the knowledge that I was the only one who could read Pellinore Warthrop’s body language like a book. And that was something I was proud of as well as I was certain that he was, too -- in secret.

4 - Competition

“What if we play a little game, Pellinore? For old time’s sake!”

“I do not play games, Kearns. You should know that after years of acquaintance.” the doctor groused without looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

The other man, though, only threw Will Henry an indignant look as he huffed and took a sip from his tea.

“I’ve always known that you were a spoilsport, old chap, but I didn’t know you have lost the rest of your meagre sense for competition. And I thought we could need some distraction from our current affairs.”

Warthrop gave another huff and turned the page of his newspaper. “Maybe Will Henry would like to play a game with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be glad to join us!” Kearns smiled at the boy, “In fact, I thought he should be part of it.”

If that managed to rouse Warthrop’s curiosity, he didn’t allow himself to show it.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, voice lazy and slow, “Just do it somewhere else. I can’t hear my own thoughts when you keep on blathering about such trivialities.”

As Kearns got up from the table, snickering to himself, Will eyed him warily.

“Come on, Mr. Henry, let’s go! Perhaps your substitute father wants to join us in a few minutes!”

“I am not his father, Jack!”

Against his better judgement, Will followed Kearns out into the small inner courtyard. As they stepped outside, Kearns whistled cheerfully and walked over to the only tree that was standing at the very back of the area.

“Do you happen to know if you have any apples left in the kitchen, Will?” he then asked, turning to the boy.

“I think so, sir. Do you want me to get one?”

“Yes, but only one!”

“And what for, sir?”

“You will see, my boy,” he smiled, “And now, snap to, Will Henry!”

A few minutes later, Will returned and handed a big, red apple to Kearns who took it swiftly from him.

“Thank you! Now, if you will go over to that tree and hold still, then we can begin!”

Without questioning the man’s order, Will complied. He positioned himself in front of the old tree, face turned towards Kearns. “Like that?”

“Yes, perfect!”

It took him only a couple of steps to walk over to the boy, and one he was there, he took off Will’s hat without asking him and placed the apple on top of his head.

“Don’t move a muscle!” he reminded him with a wink and Will felt his heart drop to his boots at that.

Kearns walked towards the building and stopped right in front of the window of the drawing room where Dr. Warthrop was still seated. Will could see how he had put down his newspaper and stared right back at Will with a look of horror crossing his features.

“Sir, may I ask what you’re planning to do?” Will’s voice broke slightly and when Kearns turned towards him again, his eyes went wide. The other only ignored him.

“Now, Will Henry, hold still or you will regret it!” The man lifted up his revolver and pointed it right at Will -- or rather the apple on top of his head. Just before he was about to unlock his revolver, the back door out to the yard burst open, and out stormed Warthrop and slapped the revolver from Kearns hands.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he yelled, his face having turned much redder than Will was used to. “Is this your idea of a competition? Of a game? This is not William Tell, Jack! This is my assistant we’re talking about!”

“Oh come on, Pellinore, you know I would have hit the apple! I’m an excellent shooter. You should have more trust in me.”

“Trust!” the doctor cried and picked up the revolver, unloaded it and threw it away before he quickly strode over to Will, who still stood at the very same place as before, too stunned to move, and dropped down on his knees before him.

“Are you alright, Will?” Dr. Warthrop asked gently, worry written all over his features as he cupped the boy’s face with his big slender hands.

“I think so, sir.”

Pellinore examined his face intently for another long moment before he spoke, “Very well then. Let’s go back inside. I won’t leave you alone again with that deranged man. Next time, Will Henry, be more careful!”

As they walked back, Warthrop took Will’s hand, holding it in a firm grasp, and pulled the boy quickly past Kearns who was quietly laughing to himself.

5 - Sharing Toys

I hadn’t meant to yell at him, to curse his very existence, nor to push him harshly out of the room and see the fear in his big eyes as he fell on the floor. I’m aware that my ability to interact with other human beings might be a bit limited, mostly because I simply do not care much about what other people think of me. But whenever Will Henry looked at me with fright, like a helpless animal in the face of threat, whenever I could see that another part of his childish tendency for trust and naive yearning for affection died in his eyes, I couldn’t help but feel like a monster.

I, myself, hadn’t had a very happy childhood and now history was repeating itself.

Certainly, the boy hadn’t had the right to go around and look at my most private belongings. I wasn’t his father, either by biological or adoptive standards, and the only thing that had forced us together was his parents’ death. He was my assistant, my unwanted protegé so what should I care what he thought of me? What his feelings regarding me were?

Why? Because he was all I had.

When Will quickly scrambled away, stuttering out some poor excuses, he ran up into his room; all that was left for me was a certain dull ache that I despised to feel. Half my life, I had known the heavy feeling of guilt weighing upon my shoulders, but this child knew exactly how to make it twice as unbearable and I hated him for that.

With a sigh, I picked up the toy the boy had so carelessly dropped the moment I had caught him in the act of snooping around in my childhood. It had been years since the last time I had paid a visit to my old bedroom, but I still remember exactly where I had put the miniature locomotive. However, I dared not go inside -- too painful were the memories of a childhood I never had, the neglect of a natural need for affection by my father.

I looked at the locomotive, examined it as I turned it slowly in my hands, wondering why on earth Will had come here in the first place. Perhaps he had thought I wouldn’t notice it if he went around and looked through every room in the house. Maybe he had been just curious -- I wouldn’t put it past him nor blame him for that, although I had tried my best to talk some sense into the boy. As I continued to look down at the toy, I pondered over how to proceed with Will but a muffled sound from upstairs managed to help me with making a decision quickly.

Not bothering to knock, I opened the door to Will’s little room and found him sitting on the bed in a hunched position. He didn’t look at me, only turned his face away while angrily wiping his sleeve across his face.

When Will Henry was angry with me, he never talked to me first. He always waited for me to make the first move. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have had the patience for this sort of behaviour but this time it was different.

Quietly, I walked over to him and sat down on his narrow little bed. We still didn’t look at each other but I didn’t fail to hear that slight hitch in his breathing, as though he was trying hard to compose himself in spite of how upset he was.

“Here, you forgot this,” I said and placed the little locomotive on his lap.

For a moment, Will stared at the toy before he finally looked up at me, eyes huge and questioningly. “Sir?” he asked with a still shaky voice.

“In future, though, I don’t want you sniffing around in my belongings anymore. Do you understand me, you stupid boy?”

No frown or glare could hinder the smile that was slowly creeping onto Will’s lips. Once more, he looked at the toy in his hands before he set it aside and embraced my stiff figure with his tiny slim arms.

“I promise it won’t happen again, sir.”

6 - Cooking

Ever since Will Henry had become the Monstrumologist’s apprentice, it had always been his duty to look after the household -- he had his daily chores of cleaning the house, running errands for the doctor, going to the market, taking care of the doctor which, of course, included cooking as well. Their roles were reversed, the child looked after the grown-up, and Will never complained once.

Dr. Warthrop had never bothered to employ a servant or a housekeeper and if Will ever forgot one of his duties, he regretted it as soon as he remembered them.

If he forgot to tidy up, he would soon find himself drowning in an ocean of newspapers and books, and maybe even a creature’s limb or organ would be lying around somewhere. Cleaning up the mess the doctor was able to create within an hour, was one of Will’s least favourite duties.

If he forgot to go to the market, he and Warthrop would be forced to starve and often enough, Will Henry had to try and cook something edible from the few meagre things that were still left in the kitchen.

And if he forgot to look after the doctor, the man would have simply forgotten to eat or to clean himself up once in a while, and he reacted like an angry cat whenever the boy tried to help him.

Will was the paternal figure the doctor had never pretended to be.

However, every now and then, if Will happened to have fallen ill, a tiny spark would ignite the doctor’s protective instincts and he did everything, though in a very subtle way and mostly when Will was not there to witness it, to make the boy feel better again -- and by Warthrop standards, it could have almost been called pampering. The doctor surely huffed and scoffed a lot in Will’s presence to make it known that he was undergoing great strengths while the other only lay in bed with fever.

What Pellinore detested the most was cooking. To him, it was a blatant waste of precious time. He had enough ghoulish monsters he could have dissected in the meantime, if it hadn’t been for the sick boy up in his attic. He might have been a brilliant man with a quick brain and extraordinary intelligence, but he was an utter failure in the kitchen.

As he eyed warily the scrambled eggs he had tried to prepare for Will, he scrunched up his nose. “Not even a pig would eat this,” he muttered and threw his attempt at cooking away.

“Why did you do that?” a voice piped up shyly from behind, and when Warthrop turned around, he was faced with the sight of Will Henry sitting at the kitchen table in his much too big nightshirt, looking up at him with curiosity.

“How long have you been here?” he asked not quite without suspicion. “You know I don’t like it when you sit around and do nothing.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing, sir. I was watching you.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” the doctor grumbled and turned away from the boy. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” Will said with a shrug and walked over to his master, “I could make us a stew, if you like.”

“No, Will, you need to rest.”

“It’s fine, really.” The boy smiled up at him in earnest and Pellinore sighed.

“Well, alright then. But don’t come to me and complain if you feel worse again. I warned you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are sure you don’t want any help?”

“Yes, sir.”

A groan escaped the Monstrumologist’s lips. “Can’t you say anything else other than ‘Yes, sir’ all the time? It’s aggravating.”

“Yes, sir.” Will replied with a grin, cheeks tainted in a rosy colour from his fever, and Pellinore had to accept that the boy wasn’t going to let him win this one.

7 - Lost and/or stranded

The day Muriel Chanler died was a day that marked a change in the doctor’s behaviour. He had always been quite a loner and he prefered his work over the company of other people. As for Muriel, though, she had been his first and only love -- the doctor had been doomed to lose her twice, and the second time would be forever.

I, myself, wasn’t sure how to deal with this situation even though I knew exactly what it felt like to lose someone you love; my parents’ death still hurt and I missed them with every fibre of my being. But I had to be strong now, even if it was only for the doctor.

There was a certain numbness with which he used to get through the days once we were back home. He wouldn’t really eat or read through the letters that came in every day. Often enough, I found him sitting on his favourite arm chair by the window and staring out into the bleak day, if he wasn’t lying in bed, curled up into a ball underneath his blanket.

Work had lost its appeal to him and he had lost himself by losing Muriel.

It hurt me from just seeing him suffer day in and out. Having only been a child of twelve years, I tried my best to help him but as the doctor denied any of my services, I went through various stages of anger, confusion and upset. Still, I found the will to keep going, to keep trying every day. Because if I lost the doctor, too, now, I would be completely alone in this cruel world and -- eventually -- would have been lost as well.

It was a long way until I managed to coax the doctor into talking more than three sentences in a row. Sometimes, I deliberately tried to anger him with little things just to get a reaction from him. Certainly, it was far from pleasant when he yelled curses and insults at me but it didn’t deter me at all. It only made me more determined (and stubborn) to bring him back to life.

Another method was to offer him his favourite scones every day. At first he wouldn’t even touch or look at them but when he started to take some few hesitant bites, I felt triumphant. He was making slow process but that was still better than letting him grieve for the rest of his life.

I remember how I came into his room one evening -- it was shortly past midnight -- as the doctor had called my name in that old familiar desperate way of his. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and looked up at me with dark circles underneath his red eyes. Only very few times before, I had witnessed the doctor crying and each time anew it was a strange, slightly frightening thing to see.

“You called me, sir?” I said shyly, not sure whether to approach his bed or not.

“Yes,” he rasped out and immediately cleared his throat, before he patted the empty space next to him and repeated himself, “Yes, Will Henry. Come here and sit down.”

Hesitantly, I walked in and closed the door when he asked me to before I continued to approach him and sat down next to him. Not knowing what to say, I kept quiet while the doctor just stared down at his folded hands in his lap, sighing deeply.

“How are you feeling, Will?” he then asked and even though his voice was low, I flinched at hearing it so suddenly.

“I-I’m fine,” I mumbled, looking up at him, “And how are you?”

Now he looked back at me and a sad little smile was dancing on his lips. “What do you think, hm?”

My cheeks flushed the moment I realised how insensitive my childish question must have seemed and I apologised immediately with my head ducked.

“Don’t be sorry,” he sighed and gave a weak laugh, “It seems as though at least someone cares enough to know the answer.”

“Which I do, sir.”

“I’m glad to know that, Will Henry.” He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a gentle squeeze.

“Truth to be told,” I then ventured tentatively, avoiding to look at him, “I’m not fine.”

“Not? Why?” I could feel his eyes on my face, the confusion in his look.

“Because I’m worried. I’m worried about you, you know.”

Silence fell upon us which didn’t mean I couldn’t feel the doctor’s response to my words -- slowly, his arm tightened its embrace around me, his body felt solid and warm against mine.

“You don’t have to be worried, Will. I’m doing well.”

“But --”

“I know. And as much as I hate to worry you unnecessarily, I have my own methods to overcome this misery.”

A frustrated little sigh escaped my lips. The Monstrumologist clearly didn’t want me to help him as his own ‘methods’, as he liked to call them, worked best for him.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was only a quiet murmur but I understood him perfectly well and nodded without a word. “You’re a good boy, Will. You’re all I have and I’m glad you’re here.”

“Likewise, sir,” I answered and looked up at him, barely suppressing a yawn from my tiredness.

“Go to bed,” he then said with a hint of a sincere smile and, for the very first time and quite unexpectedly, kissed my forehead. “It’s late.”

Once I had reached his door, I turned to him one more time. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

8 - Making Bets

When he held the newborn, a little boy, in his arms for the first time, Pellinore Warthrop didn’t know exactly what to do with the child. With any other creature on the planet, especially those which were not of human nature and rather gruesome, he knew exactly how to treat them -- alive or dead. Shapeshifters, golems and ghouls couldn’t scare the Monstrumologist. The more dangerous, the better.

But as he looked down at the little baby cradled in his arms, he felt a wave of panic washing over him.

“Well, James, what am I supposed to do with him? You cannot just hand me this baby and expect me to know what to do!”

James Henry laughed heartily at the doctor’s indignation. “Oh come on, Pellinore, you knew this day was coming. And if you can happily face death every day, you can also face life in its purest form.”

This unexpected response had the doctor quiet. With a deep frown, he once more directed his gaze at the soft lump in his arms that resembled more a potato than his friend and assistant.

“Do you expect me now to tell you that he looks sweet?” he asked slowly.

“No,” James shook his head, “I don’t expect anything from you, my old friend.”

Pellinore opened his mouth in order to protest but no words came out of it as the little boy had reached for his thumb and squeezed it in his tiny hands while looking up at him with his big dark eyes and a typical light giggle.

“What’s his name?” he then asked, his eyes still fixed upon the baby. If James hadn’t laughed, he would have never noticed the stupid grin that his lips were forming.

“It’s still William James.”

“You never told me!”

“Of course I did, just when I handed him to you!” the assistant scoffed back as Pellinore eyed him suspiciously.

“Fine.” He scrunched up his nose, hitching up gently the child in his arms.

“You know, Pellinore, I’m quite sure that you’d make a great father, if you only didn’t keep on denying this to yourself.” The tone in James’ voice was all of a sudden filled with a tinge of sadness -- a sound that the doctor disliked and distrusted.

“What are you on about?”

“The way you’re holding my son is telling enough,” James remarked dryly with a crooked smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d never give him back.”

The doctor didn’t reply immediately. He watched the child for another long moment, seemingly lost in his thought, until he said quietly, “I bet you I’d make a terrible father, James. I, myself, have never learned what paternal love is so naturally, I wouldn’t know how to apply this on a child of my own.”

“Well,” James began, sighing and scratching his neck, “Nobody knows how to do it exactly but it comes naturally. Thus, my bet is that someday your future child will be the world to you.”

*

Thirteen years later, Pellinore Warthrop sat in his kitchen as he recalled that conversation, and watched attentively little Will Henry, how he bustled about whilst cooking their dinner, oblivious of his master’s intent gaze. It was a bittersweet moment for the doctor; Will Henry had indeed become more than just his assistant. He was slowly becoming his everything, as James would have worded it in that soppy way of his, and Pellinore slowly discovered a side of himself he didn’t even know existed.

Still, James Henry had paid a much too high price to win this bet.

9 - Exchanging gifts

The first time we celebrated Christmas at 425, Harrington Lane happened about half a year after my parents’ death. Never had I heard the doctor mention this holiday before, nor was I in the mood for it. I missed my parents, I missed building snowmen with my father and having my mother telling me off for nicking a couple of her special Christmas biscuits before I was actually allowed to eat them. Christmas seemed to me like something that I had used to celebrate in a different life, long ago from the one I was leading now with the Monstrumologist. Seeing other cheerful children with their sleighs outside and parents walking hand in hand down the street only fuelled my melancholy. Here inside this house I felt almost trapped between monsters and the doctor’s unpredictable moods.

It was no wonder then how surprised I was when Warthrop suddenly put up almost Christmas-like decoration on his front door and hummed Christmas carols while we both were in his cellar and worked.

What had me wondering even more, though, was that he kept secrets from me. He asked me all sorts of strange questions to which I could only blurt out idiotic answers but he would always just nod with a serious look on his face, and not drop some sarcastic little remark as he usually liked to do.

On Christmas Eve, he sent me early to bed even though we were in the middle of cataloguing some new species from the rainforest that had somehow found its way to America on a ship and had landed straight on our examination table. He told me quite harshly to stop writing and when I looked up at him in confusion, still scared and unsure of his personality, he sighed.

“Go to bed, Will Henry, you look tired. I can do the rest myself.”

“I’m not tired!” I protested but the doctor took away my pen and paper.

“Yes, you are. In fact, you look exhausted. Now I advise you to be the good boy your father had always praised you to be and do as I tell you.”

The comment about my father didn’t help me to lift my spirits and I almost told the Monstrumologist that he had not the right to mention him, but in the end, I gave in. With my shoulders slumped and my head bowed, I retreated into my room without a word.
That night, I could barely get to sleep. Noise from downstairs woke me up several times and it wasn’t until three or four in the morning that the house was completely quiet. I had wondered whether or not to look after my master but I always decided against it.

When I woke up, it was thanks to the doctor’s hand that was gently but determinedly shaking my shoulder.
“Will Henry, it’s almost ten in the morning! Do you plan on staying in bed all day long?” he asked and managed to hide his impatience, albeit very poorly.

I rubbed my eyes sleepily, while yawning, “No, sir.”

“Well then!” He pulled back my blanket and I shivered at the cold air in my room. “Snap to, Will Henry, you’ve got work to do!”

It took me a while to get up but when I was about to get dressed, I could hear Warthrop shout from downstairs, “Don’t even think of getting dressed! You can do that later on when we’re finished!”

I sighed. I obeyed.

The air was chilly and as I was only wearing my nightshirt, my body was covered in goosebumps. The further I went downstairs, though, the warmer it got.

“Doctor?” I said as I wasn’t sure where exactly he needed me.

“I’m here, in the drawing room!” came the immediate response.

Inside the room, I was greeted by warm crackling fire and -- a Christmas tree standing next to it! My eyes widened at the sight. Last time I had been in here, something that I was certain of, the tree had not been there yet.

“Did you do this?” I asked as I entered slowly the room, my hands twisting the cloth of my shirt shyly.

Dr. Warthrop smiled mildly at my awestruck behaviour. “Since nobody else lives in this house, Master Henry, I suppose I must confess that I did this, yes.”

“But why?”

He looked at me in confusion, head tilted slightly to one side. “Why? Because it’s Christmas!”

“I supposed we didn’t celebrate it…”

“Don’t suppose, Will Henry, because that way you’ll never get anywhere in life!” he chided me, “Just because I don’t seem to care much for festivities, it doesn’t mean I don’t value them.”

“Well, we didn’t have anything for Christmas Eve last night, so --”

“Granted,” he cut in and came walking towards me, “Last night, I may have forgotten over our work what day it was but I would never forget Christmas completely.” Standing behind me, he placed the palm of his right hand upon my back and pushed me gently towards the tree. “Now, don’t you want to see if there’s anything for you underneath it?”

I looked up at him for a long moment, stunned at the mere thought that the doctor -- my stingy master -- had bought me a present. But when he put more pressure against my back with his hand, I walked over quickly to the tree and knelt down. There was only one small parcel lying there but it was wrapped up in luscious red paper with a white bow on top of it. My cheeks flushed with excitement when I opened it. The doctor’s head was looming over my shoulder as he watched me opening it; slowly and carefully, I unwrapped the present as I didn’t want to damage the paper. If Warthrop’s impatience had reached inconceivable heights, he didn’t show it. The only indication for his own impatience and giddiness over what my reaction to his present might be, was his presence right behind me and how I could feel his warm breath tickling my neck.

“Do you like it?” he asked tentatively once I was holding his present in my hands and eyed it.

“I--” I began but couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. His present was a book. To be precise, it was an encyclopaedia about mystical creatures. I wasn’t sure what I had expected in the end, but this was certainly not it. However, a present was a present and the doctor looked at me with so much suspense that I didn’t want to let him down.

“I love it! Thank you, sir.” I said and gave him my brightest smile which he returned instantly.

“Very well then.” He let out a small embarrassed cough, barely able to hide that he was pleased with my reaction. “Now, get dressed and let's get on with our work, shall we?”

10 - Apologies

Even though it had been quite a while since Will’s hateful outburst -- in which he had practically told the doctor that he was doomed to be a monster, rotten inside without any hope for salvation -- the Monstrumologist had never forgotten those words. They had cut him deeply and when he felt hurt, he usually let the source of his offence suffer for it -- especially when those insults had come from his very own assistant.

It was childish behaviour, Pellinore Warthrop was well aware of it but he had always handled things this way; either ignore them and brush them off as trivialities or dive right into his hurt pride and let the perpetrator know about it until guilt would creep in, followed by an apology. And Will Henry was no exception.

Perhaps, this time it was all worse. Since he had always thought of Will as an intimate, someone he could trust wholeheartedly, his reaction to it was stronger than usual.

When Will asked him a question, he replied with grunts, sometimes word-fragments. When the doctor wanted something from the boy, he yelled at him harshly which had the latter running as fast as his short legs could carry him. Their work suffered as well; Warthrop didn’t ask Will anymore to assist him. In fact, he only let him watch begrudgingly while he worked. Neither did he talk nor look at Will and always kept his back to him which angered the boy even more. If Will ever brought some of his favourite scones back home and offered them to the doctor with a hopeful smile, the latter would just scrunch up his nose and decline them.

It went on like that for almost two weeks and Warthrop was starting to regret it. He felt even more lonely than he usually did, and Will had nothing but a frown to offer whenever he looked at him. Clearly, the boy didn’t like this treatment and the doctor wasn’t sure for how long he could keep it up.

It wasn’t until one rather boring afternoon, while the Monstrumologist examined his latest patient, that things would change. Will Henry was nowhere in sight and he was starting to get worried.

What was this silly boy up to? Why didn’t he tell him what he’d be doing? What else could be more important than watching him and learning?

He stopped himself from leaving his work in order to find his assistant when footsteps from upstairs could be heard suddenly. Will Henry was home and that was all that mattered.

Attentively, Warthrop listened to the noises that could be heard and he tried to look very occupied the moment the door to his cellar was opened and Will Henry came down the stairs.

Once the boy was inside the room, he asked without turning around and trying to sound aloof, “What do you want?”

“Nothing, sir.” came the reply and Warthrop grunted.

“Well, then I guess you may leave, Will Henry, and do nothing somewhere else.”

He expected some sort of reply, a sigh or a disgruntled “Yes, sir,” but nothing like that came. Only soft footsteps could be heard, how they approached him until Will stopped behind him. The doctor held his breath for a moment, not sure what he expected, until Will’s arms appeared and wrapped themselves around his middle while the boy pressed his face into his back.

His voice was muffled once he spoke, “I’m sorry, doctor, for what I’ve said to you.”

“Don’t be, Will. You were quite right.” he sighed as he tried to ignore the warm glow that was spreading from his chest to the rest of his body.

The boy only shook his head and Warthrop smiled involuntarily when Will tightened his embrace.

“It was horrible and a lie. I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, you did at that moment. And you know how children allegedly always say the truth.”

There was a pause -- Warthrop felt Will’s chest rising and falling against him -- and then, “Please, sir.”

With a sigh, the doctor took off his blood-stained gloves before he covered Will’s hands with his. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t shun him forever, especially not when he apologised to him like that.

“I forgive you.”

11 - Sleeping Arrangements

“Under these unfortunate sleeping circumstances, I hope that you’re a quiet sleeper, Master Henry. Lord knows that I’ll need all the energy I can get in order to speak in front of the society tomorrow!” the doctor said to me in that so familiar authoritative tone of his.

All I could offer, was a yawn as I climbed into our bed -- as the hotel we stayed at had had only one last free room for us -- and watched the doctor through sleepy eyes how he paced around back and forth in our small hotel room.

“Maybe we should sleep now then, sir,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes, “It’s almost midnight.”
“I know, I know,” he grumbled and waved his hand dismissively. I turned to lie on my side and closed my eyes when Warthrop got ready for bed, and I kept them closed when I felt the mattress shift beneath his weight as he climbed into our bed.

“Will Henry, would you say you’re trying to turn into a butterfly?”

“No, sir,” I replied and turned to him since this question confused me.

“Then why do you hoard all of our blanket? You’re not a caterpillar that needs to be wrapped up in its own cocoon.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t say that, just leave me some of the blanket.” he huffed and I complied immediately.
After lots of grumbling and moving and shifting we finally found a sleeping position that worked for the two of us; our backs were facing each other and we both still could share the blanket without fearing to sleep in an uncomfortable position.

Soon, I fell asleep. The warmth that radiated from the doctor and his slow breathing lulled me into a deep dreamless slumber.

However, that night, I woke up twice.

The first time, I found myself facing the doctor’s back and with my arms wrapped around his middle and my face tucked in that space between his shoulder blades while my legs were pressed against his, seeking more of that delicious warmth. In this foetus position, I fell effortlessly back into my sleep.

When I awoke again, eyes still closed and just dimly registering what was happening, Warthrop and I were facing each other -- quite literally, even. His forehead was pressed against mine, the tip of my nose touching his. He kept me in a secure embrace as he continued to sleep in peaceful bliss while snoring softly. I knew he would deny any of this if I asked him about it the next day. He wasn’t a man who would often show affection to anyone. But I suppose in sleep, we’re all the same and can brush off all our inhibitions.

In the end, I decided to indulge in the feeling of this embrace which was like an echo from the past to me, when I still knew what parental love was.

12 - Chores

It was almost unbearable -- the smell, the dishes, the dirt, the rotting vegetables. Everything was slowly becoming a little more awful every day, and even though Warthrop and Will Henry were right in the middle of it, they refused to do anything about it.

It had been almost two weeks since the doctor had fired his very last servant and now that they were completely on their own, at the face of a household that needed to be done, they both kept a stoic stubbornness when it came to ignoring their chores.

The Monstrumologist wasn’t someone who would ever clean up his own mess, and Will Henry feared he would be pushed into the role of the housekeeper -- something Warthrop would have surely welcomed as he wouldn’t have had to pay the boy.

Neither of them ever brought up the topic of cleaning the kitchen, the worst of all rooms in the entire house, and Will Henry was vaguely aware of the fact that he was slowly running out of clothes to wear that neither were stained with blood or smelled too much. Furthermore, the boy had never cooked in his life before and since his guardian said he was a terrible cook the moment they had to feed themselves, they were both mainly feasting upon bread almost every day.

Oh how he craved the rich taste of bacon! How he missed pies and a hearty stew for dinner! His stomach grumbled at the mere thought of such deliciousness and Will let out a sigh.

“I’m also hungry, Will Henry, but do you hear me moaning about it?” grumbled the doctor from the other side of the room without looking up from his book.

“No, sir.” was the boy’s meek reply. “But why don’t you hire a new cook, if I may ask?”

“You may not!” Warthrop looked up at him with a deep frown edged onto his usually handsome features. “But if you must know, my dear boy, I don’t hire a new one because apparently the most simple of all tasks can’t be done by these people without interfering with my work. And I cannot let such mistake happen again.”

“Then why don’t you cook?”

He smiled grimly at Will. “I told you once. Or do you fancy a slow and painful death from my cooking skills?”

“No, sir.”

Warthrop nodded and went back to reading his book while the boy slung his arms around his stomach, trying to ignore the loud grumble.

“Tell me, Will Henry, why don’t you clean up the kitchen?” Warthrop’s voice suddenly piped up.

“Because I’m your assistant, sir, and not your housekeeper?” Will tried with a little insecure quiver in his voice. He had been there for only a couple of months and the doctor’s unpredictable temper was still intimidating to the child.

“Hmpf!” The doctor closed his book and steepled his long fingers while eyeing intently his protegé. “Do you think you’re assisting me when you don’t help me with the chores?”

“I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, let me tell you that as my assistant, it is your duty to help me wherever you can! And that doesn’t exclude this household either.”

Will looked at him for another long moment before he opened his mouth. “Does… Does that mean you want me to do all the chores?”

“Yes, for God’s sake! Sometimes I think you’re thicker than any tree branch that’s out there in this world! Now snap to, Will Henry, snap to!”

13 - First Aid

In the darkness he raised my hand and pressed it against his cheek.

I could just dimly recognise the look on my master’s face: it was the look of someone scared, someone vulnerable and forlorn. At this moment, I understood why he was crying. He was afraid that it was his mistake that anyone who had been close to him was dead now, that the same fate would befall anyone who was close to him in the present. The way he had squeezed my finger before he had made me cup his cheek had indicated enough -- he feared that someday soon I might die as well because of him and leave him behind.

My heart ached for the doctor as I watched his face, his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together with worry. I tried to withdraw my hand in order to get into a more comfortable position next to him but he held my hand steadily against his cheek and let out a soft silent whimper.

“Don’t,” he begged and then, a heartbeat later, added quietly, “Please, Will Henry. Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sir.” I smiled sadly at him. Without being really aware of it, I ran my thumb along his wet cheek, feeling a tear running down. That moment, I wondered what his nightmare must have been about that it was making him even cry.

With the helplessness of a confused child, I moved closer to the doctor and put my other arm around his middle. I didn’t know what else to say or do -- I didn’t want to upset him even more or anger him.

“It’s okay, sir,” I told him as I rested my forehead against his temple, “Everything will be fine.”

“Oh, Will Henry,” he sobbed out which sounded like a mutilated joyless laugh, “I wish I possessed your positive way of looking at this world. Lord knows I could need some of it now.” While saying this, he pulled me closer and took my injured hand which he squeezed gently in his big warm hand.

“That’s why I’m here, doctor.” I simply replied and he nodded.

We continued to stay in this embrace while I tried to soothe the doctor with my presence; I held his head cradled against my chest, had my face buried in his hair which I stroked slowly. I noticed that it seemed to help as the doctor gradually calmed down until he let out a deep sigh against me and all anxiety seemed to flow right out of him until he relaxed completely in my arms.

I was aware that it was only temporary. It was nothing but first aid for his tortured soul but nevertheless, it was better than nothing at all.

14 - Telling Lies

He’s not my son.

I never loved the Monstrumologist.

It’s funny how people often tell lies to hide their innermost feelings and desires. Sometimes, their purpose is to avoid situations, sometimes they serve to hurt other people -- and often enough, we aren’t even aware of that our lies are hurtful.

Will Henry would have never said out loud that he didn’t love the Monstrumologist, after all, there was no reason for it nor did he ever say that he did love him.

However, Warthrop often enough said that Will was not his son, just his assistant and each time those words left his mouth, Will felt a little pang of disappointment in his chest. At first, it hadn’t been that bad. Those words were true, the Monstrumologist didn’t lie. Will was only a means to an end for the man who had taken him under his wings after his parents had died, and nothing more.

As time passed by and Will continued to stay with the doctor, continued to live with the doctor, the boy developed a desire to please his master. All he wanted, was his approval and perhaps a little acknowledgement and praise from time to time for his indispensable services.

Certainly, the doctor sometimes showed approval but he would never acknowledge Will Henry as his son. The boy who had lost both parents and craved a parental figure in his life was denied one.

It was no surprise that anger and frustration built up within him over the years.

“You have never answered my question, sir.” Will Henry said all of a sudden one day and the doctor looked at him in confusion.

“Answered what?”

“Why you left me behind and went to Europe without me.”

Warthrop stared at him, dumbfounded and as though he had forgotten how to use his mouth.

“Now, why are you starting this again, Will Henry? It doesn’t matter, does it?” he scoffed and resumed his work.

But Will Henry only stepped closer. “If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ask you.” Flicking his tongue over his dry lips, he took another step forward. “Was it really just because you fell for Arkwright’s lies?”

“I told you so, haven’t I?” the doctor sighed with a brief side glance at the boy. “He flattered me, I was too blind to see his real intentions, and that’s it.”

“Yes, sir, but why didn’t you take me with you? I always accompany you everywhere.” Will could barely conceal the impatience and bitterness in his voice. “I thought I was indispensable to you,” he added and Warthrop now finally turned to look at him properly.

“What is this really all about, hm?” His voice was calm but it only angered Will even more. How he hated it when the doctor hid himself behind obliviousness.

“Am I really such a burden to you, doctor? Am I really that incompetent or do you just dislike me because I’m a child? I don’t understand it, I --” His mouth opened as he tried to give a voice to his feelings, but no words came out.

Meanwhile, Warthrop stared at him in bewilderment. “Will..?”

“I thought I had lost you! I thought you were dead when I didn’t hear anything from you for four months! Do you even understand how I felt when this occurred to me?” He took a deep breath before he continued, “I hated you, Doctor Warthrop. I hated you for thinking I wasn’t loyal to you and I hated you for leaving me behind. And I still hate you because you never seem to care about what I might feel when you treat me that way! You took my parents from me. You’re all I have and then you were gone without even having said goodbye to me -- the least of all things you could have done!”

“William, calm down,” the doctor tried but the boy only shook his head.

“No, I won’t!” he cried, “You’re a monster, doctor, and I wish I didn’t care about all this because it makes me feel like a right idiot!”

Fat tears were rolling down Will’s cheeks and he quickly looked down at his feet, his face burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t see his master’s expression and with a bitter smile, he thought that the doctor would only chide him for his ridiculous breakdown.

All he could hear, was the doctor’s grave sigh, and then he suddenly knelt down in front of him.

“Do you really mean it, Will Henry? Do you really think I’m a monster?” he asked gently and Will could feel the other’s gaze lingering upon him, watching him intently.

He could only nod in reply as he still refused to look up at his master.

“Well, let me tell you then that I left you with van Helrung because I didn’t want to put you in unnecessary danger, Will Henry. Better safe than sorry, and with you I wanted you to be safe. I knew you’d try to come with me if I had said goodbye to you, that’s why I left without saying anything.” Carefully, he placed a hand upon the boy’s shoulder and squeezed it -- Will didn’t shake it off. “I wanted you to be safe because I do care about you. So do you still hate me for wanting to make sure that you’d be safe and sound?”

A sniff could be heard, Will shook his head and sniffed again.

“Now, come on,” Warthrop then said with a huff, “There’s no need to cry, Master Henry.” He fumbled in his pocket and gave Will his handkerchief. “Are we okay then?” There was a smile in his voice which had Will finally looking up at him.

“I’m sorry, doctor. I lied to you. I don’t hate you.”

“I know, Will Henry, I know.” Warthrop squeezed his shoulder once more and the boy smiled back at him.

15 - Photographs

Shades of sepia with yellow edges, dark eyes staring back at me, still looking through me over
half a century later.

A shiver runs down my spine when I look at him, I still hear his voice calling me.

“It’s a camera, Will Henry, not quantum physics. Now snap to and take a picture!”

My fingertips lightly brush across the paper, across his face and my heart weighs heavy in my chest.

He sometimes visits me in my dreams and then everything is lighter -- I feel relieved and secure, knowing that he’s still with me after all these years.

16 - “I told you so.”

It was pitch black night. The lantern had gone out a while before and Will Henry was awaiting his master’s return.

’Stay here’, the Monstrumologist had told him while he held Will’s shoulders in a tight grip and looked intently into his eyes, ‘Don’t move, don’t make a single noise, you hear me? I will come back, Will Henry, I promise.’

Will Henry had only shaken his head, tears stinging in his eyes, ‘I won’t let you go alone! I want to come with you! I want to protect you!’

The doctor had smiled at him sadly. ‘I promise’, he had repeated and had sounded so earnest that all Will had been able to do, was to watch him leave while silent angry tears ran down his cheeks.

The boy trembled with nervousness as he clutched his knife close to him. He wasn’t sure whether he trembled because he could hardly see anything or out of sheer worry that the Monstrumologist wouldn’t keep his promise and leave him alone yet again -- and this time for good.

It didn’t help that the wind was howling like a hurt animal and numbed his senses. His eyes were watering, he was freezing and the wind made it impossible to hear anything of either human nature or of the dangerous kind. Neither did it help that the few policemen, who had accompanied them on this hunt, were out of sight as well.

As the minutes passed by, Will Henry grew more and more agitated.

Why wasn’t the doctor back yet?

It usually never took him so long whenever he dashed off without a warning to look after something. But now, Will noticed with growing worry, it must have been almost twenty minutes since Warthrop had left him by this tree.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. The dead silence was disturbing but Will Henry pricked up his ears, trying hard to recognise any familiar sound.

And then there it was; a scream, two shots and then it was quiet again.

Worry and anxiety tightened the boy’s chest, he thought that his heart had stopped beating for a second, and then, he ran into the direction the yell had come from.

I need to protect him, he needs me, he repeated over and over again in his head as he ran up the hill, the cold air burning in his lungs and making it impossible to breathe.

When he reached the top of the hill, the boy’s eyes widened in horror. Not so much because of the beast he could see but because of the blood his master was covered in. The doctor was half-buried underneath the beast’s lifeless body, his white shirt was soaked in blood, blood that was flowing out from the wound at his throat.

Panic overcame Will Henry and he yelled, “Doctor!” as he ran towards the only thing he had left in this world.

Warthrop looked at him through heavy eyelids and a groggy smile as his assistant approached him, falling down on his knees right next to the doctor.

“I did it, Will Henry,” he rasped out, “I killed the damn thing!”

Will didn’t listen, though. He quickly shoved the monster off of Warthrop’s body with an angry curse before he quickly opened the doctor’s shirt to examine his wound.

“What… what are you doing?” Warthrop asked, his voice getting weaker.

“Protecting you,” the boy answered. He cut off one of his sleeves, balled it up and pressed it against the doctor’s throat before he screamed for help.

*

When Warthrop woke up again, he found himself in a bed with white clean sheets. Will Henry was sitting right next to his bed (or rather draped half across it) with his head resting upon the doctor’s stomach, sleeping peacefully.

From what the doctor could gather, he wasn’t at home; they had brought him to a hospital. After his initial confusion, he directed his attention back at the boy and allowed himself to watch his face for a few more minutes.

There were dark circles underneath Will Henry’s eyes, he looked pale and so very exhausted. Warthrop reached out for him, not quite without wincing at the sting of pain as he moved, and gently stroked the boy’s hair.

After a little while, Will stirred in his sleep, let out a shallow sigh before he slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re awake?” he asked with a sleepy voice and a weak smile on his lips.

“I hope so. Otherwise it’s a quite peaceful dream.”

Warthrop watched how the boy straightened himself up with a small groan before he finally asked, “Why am I here?”

“Because the police came and transported you to the hospital before it was too late.”

“And was it because of you?”

Will nodded and his cheeks were colouring in a light shade of red. “I protect you, Doctor Warthrop. I told you so.”

17 - Playing cards

If there was one thing the Monstrumologist hated, it was losing. There was a reason why he didn’t like to gamble. If he did play games with me, we usually stuck to chess and even then, he ruthlessly played it against me with the brilliance of a warlord until I was beaten after only a couple of draws. He never cared that I was just a child that had never properly learned how to play chess. And yet, playing it with the doctor was probably the best way to learn it.

Other games didn’t please the doctor as much as chess did. Whenever I suggested that we could play a different game, such as Halma or Nine Men’s Morris, he would reject the idea immediately. It was difficult to find something else the doctor would like to play, but driven by the fact that I was tired of losing every chess game, I managed to find something we both liked to play from time to time.

The answer was quite simple, actually: cards.

Luckily, Warthrop didn’t know as many games as I did so I had to teach him some of them first, and even though he sneered at each one of them, he begrudgingly played them with me. My father had taught me most of these card games and I got to know the rest of them when I still went to school. For a second, I briefly wondered whether it was unfair or not that I was good at these games and my master wasn’t. But when I looked at his concentrated face as he studied his cards, I shrugged off the guilty feeling without a care. All I had to do, was to remember that he took evil joy in beating me at chess.

It amused me to no end to see the doctor’s composure slipping after a few rounds. I was winning each time, and each time he told me, “Wipe that smug grin from your face, Will Henry. I’m only getting started.”

But as we continued playing and he kept on losing, he only furrowed his brows and muttered angry curses to himself while raking his long slender fingers through his dishevelled raven-black hair.

As the evening progressed and Warthrop lost one game after another, I was beginning to feel tired. After we had finished another game, I put down the cards, yawning heartily.

“Can I go to bed, sir? I’m tired.”

Warthrop looked up at me in shock. “Tired, Will Henry? I was just about to win! You cannot go to bed yet!”

“But, sir, I really can’t keep my eyes open…” I rubbed my eyes in order to emphasize my tiredness.

“Just great!” the doctor suddenly exclaimed as he flung dramatically his cards away, “Now that I would have beat you, you think you can get tired!”

I only looked at him with a sigh and got up from my chair. “Goodnight, sir,” I said and walked out of the room. I could hear the doctor cursing and grumbling and pacing through the room, demanding loudly a revenge as though he was a 5-year-old but I ignored him.

I smiled to myself. It must be bitter when you get to taste your own medicine.

18 - Bad Habits

Pellinore Warthrop, a meticulous man through and through, had many a bad habit which sometimes caused his assistant Will Henry to despair. Among his worst habits were not sleeping, not eating, not washing himself even though they all applied to those situations when he was so invested in his work that he didn’t want to be distracted until he was finished.

Often enough, little Will would plead and beg his master to listen to him and eat something or go to bed when the doctor seemed extremely exhausted. But Warthrop hardly ever listened to him. -- just like Will would never listen to the doctor.

Will Henry didn’t have many bad habits; sometimes he liked to daydream, sometimes he’d almost fall asleep when the Monstrumologist lectured him about the characteristics of some rare poison that can only found round the Amazonas. His only real bad habit was biting his nails.

Boredom and nervousness were usually the reasons why he bit his nails -- sometimes he was aware of it and other times not at all. If the doctor happened to catch him doing it, though, he’d immediately call him out on it.

“How often have I told you to stop biting your nails, Will Henry? It’s disgusting and ruins your fingers!”

Warthrop himself always had clean and cut fingernails. His long slender fingers always looked perfect as it was the only thing he really cared about. They were indispensable for his work after all.

Still, the Monstrumologist’s reprimands were ignored by young Will Henry as soon as he was faced with a serious situation and it made the doctor livid with rage.

“Will Henry!” he would always cry, sounding very much like a scandalised mother, which would startle the poor boy. Sometimes Will managed to stutter a little Sorry, sir, but Warthrop acknowledged those weak apologies with a scoff and a scowl.

Maybe the irony of this was lost on Warthrop but definitely not on his assistant, the one who was so much less flawed than his temperamental master.

19 - Sleeping In

We were on our way back from Socotra to the mainland and so far we had spent about three days on the Dagmar. As Warthrop had promised, he didn’t leave me alone again. I was allowed to sleep with him in the captain’s cabin even though there was hardly any room for the two of us. Day and night, he was by my side and his protectiveness of me had reached new heights. When Awaale talked to me, the doctor eyed him with raised eyebrows. If someone else from the crew said something to me, he put a hand on my shoulder. A simple gesture, and usually I would have been confused, maybe even a little annoyed at him, but now it only made me smile to myself.

The nights were spent in a tiny bed, usually made for only one person, but Warthrop wanted to make sure I was really with him all the time. I couldn’t complain too much, though. The nights were as cold as the days were hot and the warmth from the doctor was more than welcome to me. Still, the doctor was usually a restless sleeper. It happened often enough that he woke me up at night, either by saying something in his sleep or fidgeting around until he’d accidentally knock his elbow into my face. I was more than relieved when this had stopped after a couple of nights -- the doctor’s demons seemed to leave him bit by bit and each night, he calmed down more and more, and I got to sleep through until it was next morning.

It was about seven when I awoke, curled up in the doctor’s arms. Warthrop woke up a little while later and he blinked at me sleepily.

“What time is it?” he mumbled, voice still low and lazy, but he didn’t wait for my answer. He reached over me for his watch which was on the small bedside table. I could feel his warm breath grazing my cheeks as he lifted up his head to look at the watch, squinting his sleepy eyes at the tiny numerics. “It’s only seven? Goodness gracious me.”

“Did you sleep well, sir?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yes, but evidently not enough,” he yawned, “Are you still tired, too?”

I shrugged. “A bit, maybe. But I’m too comfortable to get up, sir.”

He returned my smile and lowered his head back on the pillow. “Well, maybe we should get more sleep then. It’s still early after all.” With a quiet chuckle, he ruffled my hair before he pulled me against him and closed his again. “Sleep tight, Will Henry.”

20 - Teamwork

Often enough, the Monstrumologist had told his assistant how indispensable he was to him. In the beginning, they had been a little wary of each other -- with Warthrop expecting things from a child that the boy could barely fulfil, and little Will Henry being quite intimidated by the doctor’s temper initially. They had to get to know each other, and as much as the doctor had chided Will at first, the more often he had words of acknowledgement and praise for him in later years.

And it was true -- Will Henry had indeed become indispensable to Pellinore Warthrop in every aspect of his life, whether it was with their work or at home, 425 Harrington Lane, where they lived a quiet and mostly content life and would never ask for anyone else’s company.

For almost nine years, Will had been with the doctor and the latter had become more and more reliant on him. Will didn’t mind. It was quite the contrary, he enjoyed having Warthrop’s trust and attention. What had made him feel uncomfortable in earlier years only filled him with pride now. They could read each other’s body language and looks like a book which was sometimes more than helpful, especially in dangerous situations when no words were allowed to be uttered. Of course this also applied to other situations, such as everyday life and other circumstances they preferred to keep quiet about.

“You know what, sir?” Will Henry once said to the doctor and looked at him in the darkness, the other’s face only barely lit by the dim moonlight that was coming from outside. For once, the curtains were not drawn.

“I know many things, my dear Will,” Warthrop replied not quite without a smile.

“I’m aware of that, doctor. You’ve just proven it yet again.”

The silence that followed was confirmation enough for Will that Warthrop was probably turning red, lost for words at this bold retort.

“What I actually meant, sir --” Will then cleared his throat, trying hard not to sound too victorious, “-- is that we make a great team.”

Warthrop nodded solemnly. “I agree. We work together well in every aspect of our lives,” he added with a secretive smile.

Now it was Will Henry’s turn to blush.

21 - Finishing Each Other’s Sentences

“Will Henry!” the doctor said, his voice raised, while he shook my shoulders. “Listen to me! Who did this to you?”

“Did what?” I giggled. My lips felt numb, my skin tingled around my nose.

“Who gave you this to drink?” He waved an empty glass in front of my face and I reached out for it, wanting to check if there might be one or two last drops left.

When I opened my mouth, my tongue felt heavy, and I had difficulty forming a coherent thought.

“I… I’m not…”

“Not sure?”

I nodded with another silly little giggle escaping my lips.

“Was it--”

“Kearns!” I suddenly exclaimed when I remembered his wicked grin when he had given me the glass filled to the brim with something dark and sweet. I had assumed it was coca cola but, oh, how wrong I had been.

Warthrop frowned at the glass, sniffed at it whilst muttering underneath his breath, “That little bastard.”

“Pardon, sir?” I asked and nearly fell off the stool but the doctor caught me in time.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes… I think so…” My speech was slurred and when I stood up, my muscles felt heavy, tired and I wavered. The doctor reacted immediately; he put his arms around my waist in order to support me.

“No, sir, I can do it my--”

“Yourself, I can see that,” Warthrop sighed as he lifted me up without much effort and cradled me safely against him. “Time for bed, Will Henry. You’re of no use to me when you’re drunk and we need to find the anthropophagi’s hideout.”

“But siiiir,” I wailed in his arms and I was only barely aware of it that I sounded like a toddler, “I am not tired! I can help you!”

The doctor smiled at me. “You can still help me tomorrow, Will Henry.”

“But…” Despite my protests, tiredness overwhelmed me and I gave in. I tucked my face into the curve of his neck before I slung my arms around it and let myself be carried to bed.

22 - A Wedding

It was spring, and Will Henry and the doctor were in New York, attending the wedding of one of Warthrop’s colleagues. It was unusual for a monstrumologist to get married but here they were, at the dinner after the church ceremony, seated at their table and watching the happy couple opening the first dance.

A few ladies, who accompanied others, tried their luck with the doctor but each time he was asked if he liked to dance, he just smiled mildly and thanked them.

“Why don’t you want to dance with them?” Will asked after a while of having watched curiously this strange act. He understood why these women wanted to dance with the doctor -- he looked even more handsome than usual, just for this wedding, and his elegance drew all female attention to their table.

Warthrop shot will a brief look and sighed. “There’s nobody in this room who’d tickle my fancy for a dance, Master Henry. Besides,” he said with a little smile, “I’ve eaten too much. One has to take advantage of such festivities.”

The boy nodded with a hum.

“What do you agree with, Will Henry?” Warthrop suddenly said, sitting up, “That one has to take advantage of free food or that I ate too much?”

Even though the doctor seemed to glare at Will, the latter only grinned in reply. “A bit of both, maybe.”

The Monstrumologist huffed and laid back against his chair again, eyes directed at the crowd on the dance floor.

“Did you ever regret that you never got married, sir?”

“I’m not dead yet, Will Henry. I still can get married if I wanted to.” Warthrop grunted. He shot his assistant a brief look which had the boy blushing lightly.

“Well, but would you want to?” Will Henry asked. He knew the answer but the thought that the doctor would never want this was slightly saddening him.

A long pause followed and then the doctor sighed, “No, I guess not. You know I’m not made for this. I had my chance, Will Henry. And I don’t fancy trying it again.”

“Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“Well,” Will began, taking a deep breath before he continued, “I don’t like the idea that you would want to spend the rest of your life alone, doctor.”

“But I’m not alone, am I?” Warthrop gave him a crooked smile.

“That’s not what I mean, sir.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Warthrop took a sip from his water. “It’s all fine the way it is. I have my work and you know I prefer being alone. Also, since you’re tied to my apron strings, I’m not really alone, anyway, Will Henry.”

When he noticed that the boy’s face fell despite his words, the doctor reached out and patted gently Will Henry’s arm. “But thanks for worrying about me. The life we both lead is enough for me.”

23 - A Funeral

I felt numb when I watched their coffins being lowered into the earth. There wasn’t much left from my parents, only their nearly completely burnt bodies which were cruel caricatures of who they had once been. As I watched them, I could still hear my father’s voice yelling in anguish and my mother crying as the flames had licked at her flesh while my father had held her in a tight embrace.

There weren’t many people who attended the funeral -- just some of our neighbours and of course he was there, too. We hadn’t talked yet. He had only given me a brief nod so far with a look on his face that, I figured, must have been sympathetic but my own stupor hadn’t allowed me to respond in an appropriate way.

Now that earth was being thrown upon my parents’ coffins, I slowly became aware of the sounds and noises that were surrounding me; soft, muffled chatter. I could feel their looks on me and I wondered what they were thinking.

Poor little Will Henry, what will he do now? Perhaps he’ll be sent to an orphanage since he has no other relatives left, aye?

I felt a thick lump in my throat and hot tears running down my cheeks. My parents were right in front of me, here and not here, and all I wanted to do, was to follow them into the darkness. I longed for my mother’s arms around me and my father’s soothing voice in my ear, It’ll be fine, Will. Just wait and see.

The only thing I felt, though, was someone’s hand placed lightly upon my shoulder and a gentle squeeze that followed.

“If you don’t mind, I will take care of you now, Will Henry. It’s the least thing I could do for your father.”

I looked up at him and he looked back. “Sir?”

“Come on,” he said, took my hand and led me away from my parents. “I’m sure we’ll get along, Master Henry.”

24 - An Old Flame

Will had not meant to let those words flow right out of his mouth when Warthrop checked on him once more after Muriel Chanler had left. He didn’t want the doctor to know that he knew. But his mind still felt dizzy, he still felt drugged but when the doctor’s face went pale at his question, he knew he had gone too far.

“Were you spying on me, Will Henry?” The doctor’s voice was suspicious, hesitant and the boy feared his master’s anger.

“Sir, I… I didn’t mean to…” It was difficult for Will to gather his thoughts, to bring out the words in an order that made sense but Warthrop seemed to understand him.

Silently, he closed the door to Will’s room and approached his bed. “Well, what did you mean to do then?” he asked as he sat down next to Will and eyed him with a deep frown. His voice was calm but Will knew exactly, in spite of his drugged state, that it was only his exterior. “I think the words ‘Why did you kiss her?’ leave no room for interpretation, Will Henry.”

It was quite miraculous but Warthrop still managed to make Will blush with shame in his current state. “I’m sorry, sir...”

The doctor sighed as he ran a hand through his hair dark hair. “The truth is, I, myself, am not completely sure why I did it.” His voice had dropped to a low murmur and Will had to inch closer in order to understand him still. “I suppose I still love her, and sometimes even I can’t stick to thinking rationally, Will Henry.”

The boy searched for his hand and squeezed it gently. He didn’t need to ask him about Chanler; he knew that the doctor felt ashamed of himself for having kissed his best friend’s wife. Warthrop looked over his shoulder down at Will and smiled sadly.

“Thank you,” he said as he understood Will’s quiet absolution. Carefully, he turned his hand underneath Will’s and linked their fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze in return.

25 - Brutal Honesty

“Dr. Warthrop, I said please!”

“And I, James, say no! I will most certainly not look after your son this evening.”

“Well, what else do you have to do?” James Henry scoffed with his arms crossed in front of his chest while he tapped his foot impatiently against the fine Persian carpet in the entrance hall of 425 Harrington Lane.

Pellinore Warthrop only glanced around before he replied with a wavering voice, “Business.”

“Business?”

“Business.”

“What the deuce can be possibly more important than looking after your best friend’s son for only a couple of hours?”

“Lots of things, James!” Pellinore snapped back before he composed himself. “You know quite well that I’m not good with children. I’d rather pull out a tiger’s tooth while it was conscious and had a raging hunger than look after a child that can’t even walk on its own!”

“It’s not just a child, Pellinore, it’s my son you’re talking about.”

“Doesn’t change anything, now does it?”

For that retort, James only raised a warning eyebrow at his friend and master. “Look, Pellinore,” he said with a barely composed voice, “Do you even know the deprivation I have had to put up with so far thanks to our work?”

“Not just you, James!” The other man clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.

“True, not just me. Mary as well! And little Will! I have hardly spent any time with my family since you always need to go on one adventure after another!” James said as he poked Pellinore’s chest with each word, emphasizing his point. “Mary complains all the time that we never get to see each other and we’ve been married for only a year.”

“A year? I thought it was more than that.” Scrunching up his nose, Pellinore pushed away James’s finger and rubbed at the spot where the latter had poked him.

“Maybe it feels like that to you, but you’re wrong. And you owe me, my friend. I never ask much of you so this is the only thing I really want -- to spend a night with my wife in town while you take care of our son.”

With a sound of frustration, Pellinore raked his fingers through his dark mane as he paced back and forth in front of James. “But why me?”

“Because,” the other smiled, “You may be terrible with children but I know that Will is going to be safe with you.

*

“You owe me, my friend, you owe me.” Pellinore mocked his friend’s voice to as he changed the baby’s diaper. “I don’t owe you anything, James!”

When there was a sudden high-pitched giggle, he looked up into the little boy’s face which was beaming at him like a little sun.

“You know what, Will Henry?” he then said with a mock smile as he tied a knot to the clean diaper, “Your father is an ass! I’m only twenty-three years old, for God’s sake!I should be in Japan right now or Russia or the Congo, exploring the beautiful world we’re living in. I was born to be a monstrumologist and not to be a bloody nanny!”

All of Pellinore’s ranting was only met by Will’s toothless grin while he clapped his tiny hands together once the doctor was done with his work.

“Oh stop that at once, Will Henry, your sweet little ways cannot woo me.”

With a sigh, he lifted up the boy and carried him over to his favourite arm chair. There was a bright fire crackling away in the fireplace and when Pellinore sat down, he securely cradled Will against his chest.

“Well, I suppose it’s just you and me now,” he said after a while as he watched Will and how he chewed on one of Pellinore’s fingers.

Usually, he would have minded all this drool that covered his hand but there was something innocent and soothing in the way the baby looked at him while he gently nibbled away on his finger. If Pellinore had tried to pull his hand away, Will would have started crying, anyway.

“You idiot,” he sighed to himself, “ When have you become so soft?”

The question was left unanswered -- soon enough, the cosy fire had lulled them both into a deep slumber with Pellinore holding little Will in a secure embrace against his chest.

26 - “I need you.”

Often enough I have mentioned how the doctor’s melancholic moods annoyed me. They occurred ever so often and they seemed to get more and more intense with each time they happened. I had thought I could handle them well, that I could help the Monstrumologist by trying to be there for him when he needed me the most. And, God knows, I did try.

I flattered him, I begged him, I made him eat and read books and the newspaper to him. I did simply everything. Now, mind you, I was only a child and I, too, needed that kind of attention -- or at least I felt as though it was my right to have it as well. But the doctor hardly ever paid any attention to me, and if he did, it was making me feel uncomfortable as I was simply not used to it.

The longing for love and attention was gnawing at me, making me frustrated as time passed by. Doctor Warthrop continued being mostly oblivious of my cravings, whether it was deliberate or unknowingly I cannot say. But when his depression struck yet again, I couldn’t keep my feelings bottled up any longer.

He was once again rambling about how people might forget him once he was dead and I, I was staring at him in disbelief.

“Am I nobody to you then, doctor?” I asked and couldn’t conceal the hurt in my voice.

Warthrop only stared back at me with lack of comprehension written all over his face. “What are you talking about?”

I sighed frustratedly. “That maybe I do care about you? Why am I still sitting here at your bed, listening to your depressive verbiage? Have you ever wondered why I’m still trying to help you, doctor?”

Warthrop’s silent reply came after a while during which he had avoided my eyes searching for his. “Because you’re better than me, Will Henry.”

“Maybe,” I got up from my usual chair by his bed side and closed the small distance between us. “Please, sir, don’t do this to me. You do know exactly why I’m still here.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice weak now. I could see that he had given up pretending, and I recognised a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“Because I need you too, doctor. I care about you, you know. I wish I didn’t, but I do and often enough I feel as though my presence was… was just not enough for you.”

Maybe he heard my frustrated sigh, I cannot tell. I was staring at my hands now as I didn’t want to see the rejection in his eyes again. It would be so bitter.

Against my expectations, though, he took my hand, the one with only four fingers, and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“You stupid, stupid boy,” he whispered into my ear as he cupped the back of my head, holding me against him firmly.

I let out a small cough of embarrassment but I reciprocated the embrace nevertheless. And it felt good.

27 - Jealousy or insecurity

“Oh, dear Lord, Will Henry, tell me you’re not falling for that,” Warthrop groused in Will Henry’s ear once their carriage had taken off and Lilly Bates had vanished from their sight.

“What do you mean?” Will asked innocently, his eyebrows arched at Warthrop questioningly.

“You know exactly what I mean, you awful tease. That Bates girl. She’s put a spell on you. I can see it.”

“I’ve told you often enough that she annoys me, haven’t I?” he replied calmly. In secret, Will rather enjoyed the doctor’s little antics when it came to the relationship between Lilly and his assistant.

Warthrop only crossed his arms in front of his chest with a sound of irritation. “And yet, you grin like a fool at her when she bats her eyelashes at you. Don’t think I’m an idiot, Will Henry, I can count one and one together.

“And what would that be?”

“A disaster!”

Will clicked his tongue. “I don’t think the result would be that terrible. You’re being overly dramatic.”

“I--what?” Warthrop’s eyes widened at cheeky retort and Will giggled in response to that.

“Calm down, doctor,” he then said and patted Warthrop’s knee, “You don’t have to be worried about anything.”

With a brief glance at Will’s hand, which was still resting upon his knee, Warthrop leaned back with a satisfied little smile dancing across his lips.

“Good,” he said and put his hand upon Will’s.

28 - Celebrating a holiday

“Now look at the mess you’ve made, Will Henry!” Warthrop cried once he observed our situation. I could only laugh indignantly at that.

“Me? Why do you think I have made that mess? You’ve been just as much involved in this as I have been!”

“Well!” he huffed with a frown, “I didn’t expect that this would get so out of hand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you knew exactly what you were yourself getting into, sir.” I laughed.

Still, the doctor jumped up which ruined the mood completely.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked when I refused to get up as well, “Help me to clean up, Will Henry. Show me that you’re a responsible 22-year-old now and snap to!”

I heaved a grave sigh and did as I was told. While we stripped off the sheets, I could feel his gaze resting upon me from time to time.

“What is it?” I asked, now frowning myself, as I balled up the sheets and dropped them onto the floor in order to continue with stripping off the blanket.

“Tell me, why did I think it was a good idea to bring you breakfast to bed?”

“Because it’s my birthday, doctor.”

“And why did we think it was a good idea to do something entirely else in the midst of it?”

I smiled. “Because I couldn’t wait for my birthday present.”

29 - Plans for the Future

As Will finished writing on the last page of his notebook, he closed it with a sigh and Warthrop shot him a questioning look with one eyebrow raised.

“What’s the matter?”

“My wrist hurts,” Will answered and moved his fingers, trying to relax and coax them out of their stiff pen-holding-position. “Writing down our latest expedition was not as easy as expected.”

“Are you finished?”

“No, I need a new book.” He eyed warily the cheap notebook, some of its pages already hanging loose from writing too much and flickering through the pages.

“I told you it’d be a bad idea to write down our work, Will Henry,” the doctor grinned. It wasn’t a sympathetic smile but a smug one since he had the feeling that he had been right. Will only offered him an indifferent shrug in return.

“You’ve always said you wanted to be immortal. This is the only way you’ll ever be remembered!” he reminded the doctor as he picked up the book and waved it in front of the doctor’s face.

“You really are like Watson, then, Will -- writing diligently down what we’ve been through like the ever so obedient assistant that you are.”

“And you’re like Holmes, thinking you know everything and that nobody can compete with you!” Will shot back and Warthrop let out a dismissive little pffft-sound.

The boy could see that a retort was right on the tip of his master’s tongue but the latter chose not to give in to temptation and swallowed it down.

“Well,” Warthrop began instead, “If that’s true, I suppose we both will be immortal then. What would Holmes be without his Watson after all? We’ll just continue to solve cases until the bitter end.”

Will recognised the truce offer, the subtle compliment and laughed. “Right, and now let me get a new notebook!”

30 - Love notes

It was one of those rare circumstances when Dr. Warthrop was sick. That man might have lived one of the unhealthiest lives imaginable, hardly ate if it hadn’t been for me and my constant reminders for him to snatch at least a hurried meal, and yet, he was the shining example for an immune system made of iron. (Something, which was quite astounding, seeing as how he had been a rather sickly child and had never taken any measurements to strengthen his health.)

Usually, nothing could knock him out but this time, his work and lack of self-care had got the better of him and thus he was sicker than he had been in the past ten years. My duties were just barely expanded -- I was already taking care of the entire household and his business affairs, anyway. My master may have been even more demanding than usual once he was sick but there was also one good thing about this entire mess: he was not allowed to talk.

I was blessed that Warthrop was cursed with laryngitis, and I saw that he hated every minute of it.

On his bed side table was a little bell which he rang every time he needed me and he had a notepad along with a pencil in case he wanted to tell me something. If I felt like teasing him on purpose, I said to him that I couldn’t decipher his horrible handwriting. It never took long for his cheeks to get flushed with irritation and his brows being drawn together as he glared at me and huffed, mouth opening and closing and no words coming from it. He wasn’t allowed to leave the bed nor to talk and it was heaven for me.

Sometimes, he asked me to read the newspapers to him, letters or even books (albeit they weren’t very interesting to me) and when it happened, he fell asleep not long after. I would change the wet cloth on his forehead then, trying to cool down his fever, and watch over him a little longer to make sure that he was properly sleeping.

Every once in a while, I, too fell asleep in the ragged chair next to his bed while looking out for him. And when I woke up, he always left me a little note at the page where I had stopped reading.

It was still dark outside when I awoke, and the latest note I found, said

I hope you know how indispensable you are to me, Will Henry. Now go and get some rest.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I read it and gave in to feeling slightly proud and warm at that. When I looked over to the sleeping form of my master, I recognised that he wasn’t asleep at all -- he was watching me with something that resembled a crooked smile.

I got up and walked over to him, and with my still sleep-clouded brain, I slung my arms around his neck, pressed a kiss to his cheek and murmured, “Sleep tight, sir.”

He nodded, hugged me briefly back and gently pushed me towards his door, beckoning me to go to bed.