“Oh, really?” Emma asked, holding the phone to her ear. “That sounds great, kid.” Emma couldn’t help but smile as Henry recounted his day with Snow and David. “Tell them I say hi. Yup, love you too. See you soon.”
“Was that your son?” Joan asked as Emma hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“No worries,” Emma said. “And yeah, he’s a good kid. His grandparents took him rollerblading today.”
“That’s exciting!” Joan replied. Emma smiled and nodded her head.
“Do you have any?” Emma asked, trying to keep the conversation going. Joan laughed and shook her head no.
“Children aren’t for me,” Joan answered honestly. “And with the work Sherlock and I do, I don’t think a child would mix into that well.”
“Are you and Sherlock…” Emma began to ask before Joan cut her off.
“No, no,” Joan answered. “Oh god, no. We’re just really good friends. I mean, sure, we know pretty much everything about each other, and live together, and work together…but no.” Emma watched her face. For a detective, she wasn’t very good at keeping things completely hidden. Emma had suspicions there was more to it, but she left it at that.
“And you and Killian aren’t…” Joan returned the question.
“Pffft,” Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “He wishes.” Joan had the same suspicions of Emma and Killian that Emma had of her and Sherlock, but like good-mannered people they didn’t press the matter.
“So what do you think is going on with Abbie and Ichabod?” Joan inquired. She didn’t have many close girl friends to talk to back in NYC, and Sherlock would never listen to such rubbish, so it was nice to conduct a little gossiping every so often. Well, not the kind of gossiping her mother did.
“I don’t know…” Emma said. “They’re a hard pair to read. I mean, he is married after all, but the way he acts around her you wouldn’t know it.” Joan shook her head in agreement.
“But isn’t his wife dead?” Joan asked.
“It’s all very complicated,” Emma confessed. "But I think if he didn’t have Katrina tying him down, Abbie would jump the opportunity.” The two women stood in silence awhile, studying Ichabod and Abbie from across the room. A violent shiver rippled through Emma’s body. “Alright, let’s change the subject before we fail the Bechdel Test.”
“Yes, let’s,” Joan said, shaking off the gossip. “So have you gotten any more leads?”
“No…” Emma shook her head sadly. “And I’m beginning to wonder if we ever will. It was crazy enough when we discovered that there were fictional characters outside of Storybrooke. Almost everyone in the storybook is accounted for.”
“Storybook?” Joan asked with an arched brow.
“There’s a book that my son has with everyone’s stories written in it. Not quite the average fairytales you know of, but the exact stories as they happened in the Enchanted Forest,” An epiphany then occurred to Emma as she was explaining this to Joan. “You’re not in the book…”
“I’m sorry?” Joan asked, not quite having heard the last sentence.
“You’re not in the book!” Emma nearly shouted, gaining the looks of everyone in the room. “You, Sherlock, Abbie, Ichabod — not in the book! Why hadn’t I seen this sooner?” Emma slapped her forehead at the exciting revelation.
“What does this mean?” Joan was confused as to whether this was a good or bad thing. Emma began to pace the room, thinking hard.
“I think there’s another storybook.”