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On Thursday evenings Lockwood goes to Barnes’. When they first started their routine, they stuck to Sundays, but George’s arrival had made it tricky to slip out of the house, so it has been moved to Thursdays. George always has research to do on Thursdays.
Barnes lives about four blocks away from Portland Row, close enough to be walkable. Lockwood leaves just after three and returns before dark, bringing his rapier with him just in case. He’s only needed it twice in his years of trips, but better safe than sorry, he supposes.
He knocks five times. Barnes is at the door by the fourth with tea and carrots. He looks Lockwood up and down. “You’re hiring,” he notes.
“We are.”
“Why?”
Lockwood walks inside, hangs his rapier on the coat rack, and flops onto his back in Barnes’ dark green couch. “Because an agency of two isn’t really impressive, is it? Plus George isn’t a fighter, not really. The more time spent with books the better. We need someone else if we’re ever going to go anywhere.”
“Hmph,” Barnes replies, cradling his tea in the armchair opposite Lockwood.
Lockwood rolls his head towards him. “What?”
“How many candidates have you scared away so far?”
Lockwood looks back up at the ceiling. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Hmph,” he says, amused.
“Shut up.” Lockwood tosses a coin from Barnes' side table in the air and watches it fall back into his hands. “I’m not going to tell whoever it will be about us,” he adds, just for reassurance.
Barnes raises an eyebrow. “What, that you regularly have tea with a DEPRAC employee? Who buys you groceries once a month and is filed as your emergency contact?”
Lockwood cracks a grin. “And as far as anyone else knows he absolutely despises me. Yeah, that’d be fun to explain.”
“Mmm,” Barnes comments. Then pauses, sucks in a breath. Sunlight streams through the windows behind him, making Lockwood's face look even younger in the deep yellow light. “Anthony-”
Lockwood sits up, the coin resting still in his palm. “Yes?” he says gently, matching Barnes’ tone.
“Old habits can be like a hamster wheel.”
Anthony laughs. “A hamster wheel-”
Barnes sighs. “Just- just shut up for a second, can you do that?” He takes another long breath. “Old habits can be like a hamster wheel. You think you’re running away from them but in reality you’re just stirring up the same old shit. I’ve known you for- for a long time now and I need you to swear– to look me in the eyes and swear , that all of this, all of the agent stuff–”
Lockwood looks down at his hands, swallowing hard. “Ah.”
“Just promise me, Lockwood, that you’re not using all of this as an excuse to throw yourself into danger. We need you here.”
“George is quite angry with me right now actually.”
“Anthony.”
Lockwood swallows. Flips the coin into the air. “Yeah, Barnes, I promise. I think- I think it’s good for me. Y’know, to feel like I have a purpose.”
Barnes nods. “Alright then. Do you need another ad in the paper? They have a free slot.”
+++
Two weeks later Lockwood and Lucy burn a house down. The next Thursday Lockwood shows up early to let Barnes know he’s alright, and he shows up silent to let Barnes know that he is seething. He sits up straight on the couch and grabs a carrot.
Barnes doesn’t look at him as he sits down. “So-” he starts.
“Sixty thousand pounds? Sixty thousand pounds for an accident in some worn-down house?”
Barnes snaps his head up. “Oh, absolutely not. You burned down a house , Anthony. You weren’t using proper safety protocols and you went in missing a third of your team! You do not get to whine to me about–”
“Where are we going to get sixty thousand pounds?” He leans forward, his hands clenched around a coin.” We’re an agency of three people and you buy half of our groceries-”
“You’re welcome for that by the way. This is how it goes, Anthony. You broke the law.”
Lockwood rolls his eyes and slumps back against the couch. Barnes sips his tea and grabs a carrot. “And what did you say to the crew?” Barnes asked.
“I told them it was going to be fine.” He twirls the coin anxiously between his fingers, looking away.
“And it is. It’s all going to be fine, Anthony. You just have to get past this and do better next time.”
Lockwood nods into his tea. The evening glow is beginning to fade, casting Barnes’s room in an array of oranges. The room is tasteful and neat, playing off of the historical aspects of the house. The rug is a relic from his parents, oranges and greens fanning out from a light brown center, but most else was new, handpicked by a man who clearly carried a good eye for style and a strong desire for comfort after a long day. The couch Lockwood is sitting on had been found at an antique auction seven months ago a ways outside of London. He had had to take a train.
“Can I ask you something?” Lockwood starts.
Barnes shrugs. “Can’t stop you.”
“Were you ever like this as a kid?”
Barnes snorts into his tea, then covers it up with a cough. “I- uh- no. No, I was not like you.”
Lockwood nods and looks down.
“Now, does that mean I never made mistakes? No. I made plenty of those. You know, all the teenager stuff. Staying out a little too late, staying up a little too late, spontaneous hair dyeing–”
“Spontaneous hair dyeing?”
“Irrelevant. Most of the time, though, I had a pair of overbearing parents breathing down my neck.”
Lockwood picked another carrot off the platter. “I’m getting a little bit of that right now,” he muttered.
Barnes took another sip of his tea to conceal the grin spreading across his face. “Hmph,” he replied.
+++
“ You’re late.”
“I know. Took a nap, lost track of time. Also my ribs still hurt. Also Lucy fainted yesterday and just woke up an hour ago. Something strange happened last night. We’re still trying to figure it out better. Plus, we have another case set for tomorrow. Busy day. Had to tell them I was going for a run.”
Barnes eyes his coat skeptically. “In that outfit?”
Lockwood pauses, looks down at his clothes. “Yeah. I guess so,” he laughs. “It doesn’t matter though,” he continues, moving towards the couch. “We’re all kind of stupid in the morning.”
“It’s three pm.”
Lockwood waves his hand dismissively. “Agent’s morning.”
Barnes chuckled and poured himself some more tea, then handed the pot to Lockwood. “Is that a new painting?” Lockwood asked, gesturing to a small painting of the London skyline.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Finished it last night. It’s a nice way to calm down after a stressful day.”
Lockwood stood up and walked closer to where it hung over a small, nonfunctional fireplace. “I can imagine.” He took a moment to investigate it. “It’s incredible.”
Barnes had something like a smile on his face. “Thank you. Took me long enough to finish.”
Lockwood walked back over and took a sip of his tea before sitting down. Barnes set his teacup down on the tray in front of him. “So are we going to ignore the elephant in the room then?” Barnes asked.
“And what might that be?”
“That I had to arrest you again, Anthony. What else could it possibly be?”
Lockwood blew on his tea and took a slow sip. The tea set included four cups, though they only ever used the same two, and had been compiled from various antique shops over the years. Barnes’ was a pristine white with a purple and gold bouquet painted onto the side and a golden rim. Lockwood’s cup had a hint of green throughout, and had perfectly painted fir branches criss-crossing all along the outside.
“I guess we are,” Lockwood said plainly. “You were right, everything turned out alright in the end.”
Barnes stared at him, then said sternly, “you got arrested by a DEPRAC agent today for crimes that you very much committed. Do you even think of that as bad? Or- Or worse! You could’ve died today, Anthony. Does that even register to you at all? That you could be dead right now?”
“Of course it registers,” Lockwood replies quietly, staring down into his tea.
Barnes softens, surprised. “How bad was it?”
“Not great. And a lot of it was because of my own stupid decisions. We should never have gone in there. He brought us there to die–”
Barnes reaches out and grabs Lockwood’s hand. “No, no. In this one way you were right. You had no reason to think Fairfax was out to kill you, you’re kids and he’s a figurehead of whatever this world has become.”
“Still feels stupid,” Lockwood mumbles.
Barnes leans back, taking another sip of his tea. “Well, I’m not saying it wasn’t. I’m just saying it was an easy place to be stupid.”
“Oh, fantastic. So we were easily stupid. So much better,” Lockwood quips.
“You’ll do better next time.”
“You keep saying that.”
The room goes quiet, save the sound of the heater quietly hissing beside Barnes’ chair.
“I have your groceries,” Barnes finally offers, picking up the tray and moving towards the kitchen. “I didn’t know how much more sugar you needed, so I got three bags.”
Lockwood breaks out into a grin. “That’s excellent.”
+++
“You have a breaking and entering problem,” Barnes comments as he opens the door nearly a week after the events at the graveyard.
“Problem might be putting it strongly,” Lockwood responds, grabbing the tray from Barnes’ hands and taking it over to the low coffee table between Lockwood’s couch and Barnes’ chair.
“You are repeatedly breaking and entering,” Barnes shoots back, following Lockwood to the living room. “And you can’t seem to stop. You are addicted to breaking the law and putting me in very uncomfortable situations.”
Lockwood shrugs and smirks. “Whatever gets the case done.”
“No! Not whatever gets the case done! You’re committing felonies!”
“You chose to be a cop, Barnes. We all have our flaws.”
Barnes takes an angry bite of carrot. “My flaws are significantly more socially acceptable.”
Lockwood grins and flips a coin into the air. “Come on, admit it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We’re good at this! A lot better than you thought we’d be, anyways. Lucy is more talented than anyone else I know, and George is an incredible researcher. We don’t have to go through the bureaucratic nonsense that Fittes agents do, so we’re quicker and more mobile. We fight well together and we get the job done. We’re good.” Lockwood leans forward for emphasis.
“I’m not saying that,” Barnes says firmly. “That is the opposite of what I’m saying.”
“Is it because it’s wrong or because you don’t want to encourage our felony addiction?”
“No comment.”
“Hmmm,” Lockwood replies, content. He folds his arms and raises an eyebrow.
“If anything it’s because of the carrots. Makes your Sight better, I’ve told you.”
Lockwood waves his hands. “You know it doesn’t work like that. This is infuriating.”
Barnes takes another sip of tea. The steam curls up into strands in the air before dissipating into the air.
Lockwood glances around the room, noticing a paint splatter by the nook under the stairs. “Painting anything new?”
He nods, then holds up a finger to wait until he is done with his sip. “It’s a painting about your felony addiction.”
“Oh really?” Lockwood laughs.
Barnes nods again, then pours himself some more tea delicately. Lockwood lays down against the couch. “The breaking and entering was hardly the stupidest thing I did today, anyways,” Lockwood finishes.
Barnes raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Is it something that’s going to cause a massive conflict of interests for me?”
“No, it isn’t. But quite honestly I’d rather not tell you until I know if everything’s going to be alright.”
Lockwood watches a spider climb up the window behind Barnes’ head, watches it fall back down on a web. “You know,” the older man says, “that to do better next time you have to work for it, right?”
Lockwood breathes in, long and slow. He closes his eyes and nods.
+++
“It’s not a Thursday.”
“I know.”
Barnes glances out into the street behind Lockwood. It hasn’t even been a full day since they dealt with Carver’s body in the boy’s hallway, but Barnes is assuming this is the only time he could come. He looks exhausted, and is taking every step through the hallway like the floor is covered in shards of glass, though he’s trying to hide it.
“I’ll get some tea,” Barnes decides, as Lockwood sits down and begins nervously rubbing the coin with his thumb. “Convincing speech earlier,” Barnes adds from the kitchen. “Very moving.”
Lockwood laughs. “Thanks, I worked hard.”
“Mmm.”
They fall back into silence. Lockwood rubs his neck with his hand and winces. Barnes brings the tray back with two teacups and some carrots. He looks up at Lockwood and waits for him to talk. Lockwood’s glassy eyes are darting all over the room, memorizing this place, this moment.
“I hate the fucking hamster wheel,” Lockwood says finally, his voice catching in his throat.
Barnes leans forward in his armchair and rests his elbows on his knees, waiting for Lockwood to say more.
“I got us into trouble today. Bad trouble. I nearly got Lucy killed– I nearly got both of us killed. And still I–”
He trailed off.
Barnes stands up and starts pacing. “I knew it,” he mutters. “I’ll take it back, I’ll go tell Fittes it’s their case now, I should’ve never let you talk me into this, Anthony, I should’ve–”
“No, don’t,” Lockwood says firmly. “We still need this case. That mirror is dangerous and Lucy and George are both so deep in that stopping now would do more harm than good.”
Barnes looks over. The kid looks genuinely desperate. Barnes can see his hands shake a little.
“Why do I keep running in like this?” Lockwood asks finally, voice quiet. “I- I know where all of it goes, I know where the path ends up but every time I keep just– just charging straight down it like maybe it’ll end up somewhere new. Like maybe this time no one will get hurt.” He swallows. “And then there’s a dead man on my floor and he’s got a knife in his back and his glow is just stuck there like hers and I–”
In an instant Barnes is with him, holding his head and shoulders as Anthony clings to his shirt and shakes. Barnes wonders if they’re picturing the same moment. The first time he ever met Anthony Lockwood, wide-eyed and silent over his sister’s body.
“I thought we were going to die,” Lockwood whispers, so quiet Barnes nearly doesn’t catch it. “And I think that guy might still have my knife.” He tries for a laugh, but it breaks on the way out of his throat.
“You’re not going to die. I’m here,” Barnes whispers. “I’m here and we’ll get out of this. You can change. We can change this. We can change this.”
He says it to both of them. He says it to everyone , because what a time it is to be stuck in a hamster wheel, and what a time it is to be a child.
After Lockwood’s gone Barnes goes to finish his painting. It’s a bleak one, but it’s all Barnes can do to let his stress out onto this canvas and not let it creep too far into his job. The painting is streaky, bordering on impressionist. It shows a boy in a black overcoat sitting in a crowded restaurant, the red curfew clock above his head counting down to zero.
+++
It all happens in one blur of a night. The dance, the auction, the mirror. It’s all one big streak like the blur of a town outside a train window. You were there, but you barely knew it.
Well, that’s how Lucy described it at least. Lockwood’s always had a memory like iron. On a good night he can play out, afterwards, every stab he took in a sword fight.
On their way out, Lockwood hear’s Barnes’ voice from behind him. “Don’t forget, Lockwood:” he yells, “it’s a Thursday.”
“Dunno what he’s on about,” Lucy mumbles. “It’s a Monday.”
“Tuesday now, actually,” George notes.
+++
“You’re late. An hour and a half,” Barnes notes.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re alright?” Barnes asks.
“Eh.”
Barnes pulls him into a hug, then pulls away when he hears Lockwood gasp in pain and mumble shoulder.
“Did you take a bus?”
“Yes.”
They head into the living room, where Barnes has laid out some tea and biscuits.
Lockwood laughs. “You never have biscuits. Honestly, I thought you had a vendetta against them.”
“I do,” Barnes says firmly. “But you also got shot.
Lockwood pales a little at the reminder. “Right. Yes.” He pauses. “So, I was thinking. Lucy and George and I are trying not to have secrets right now. You know, for morale and all of that. I think it would be best if I told them about… well about all of this. Plus, one day they’re going to get suspicious as to why you’re always the one showing up to help us. Would that be alright?”
Barnes takes a sip of his tea and tilts his head back and forth, considering. “Do you think it would be a good idea?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then tell them.”
Lockwood lets out a grin and picks up a biscuit with his mostly unharmed arm. He glances out the window and watches the sun paint the sky orange. "It's getting dark..." he mumbles.
Barnes looks down at his watch. "Well, the busses have already stopped, and you are definitely not walking home. You can stay on the couch tonight. There are blankets in the basket behind you."
Lockwood glances up. "Actually?"
Barnes nods. "I am your legal guardian, Anthony. Might as well act it once in a while." He blows on his tea, watching Lockwood's face to see if his proposition was actually agreeable. The kid had had a long day, and if he wanted to be at home, Barnes was going to find a way to get him home, even if he had to fight ghosts he couldn't see. Lockwood showed no signs of discontent, and Barnes let his eyes flick down again. The room lapsed back into comfortable silence.
“So,” Barnes says.
“What?”
“Did you get stuck in the hamster wheel again?”
Lockwood sighs. “Yeah, yeah I did. But I feel like something’s changed now. I feel like maybe I’m out of it.” He takes a sip of his tea. “I guess we won’t know until our next case, will we? But I feel… hopeful. Like actually really hopeful. I mean… we did it! We actually did it!”
Barnes lets a faint smile play across his face. “That’s good. That’s really good, Anthony.”
Lockwood nods and takes another sip of his tea. He pauses, then sets the cup down. “Oh, forgot to say. I lied. I absolutely know who shot me.”
+++