fossilised | For John Watson

For John Watson

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

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[For once, the world is kind and allows John to sleep, to recharge his poor damaged body and mind without interruption. Molly also sleeps, she tried for a while to engage Sherlock in conversation but he basically ignored her, so she retreated to nurse her wounded pride and rest.

Sherlock doesn't sleep, he has far too much to think about, but he's not paying much attention to their surroundings. He's trying to work out how Moriarty has managed to be two steps ahead every time, how he got the military on side, and how they're going to properly neutralise him as a threat.

It's not until the sun is well up, far past when he wanted to be putting their plan into action, when he realises the time and irritably shakes John by the shoulder.]

Hurry up, you're late.

[John comes awake to an explosion of pain. Why did it have to be the shoulder? He cries out, the sound strangled, before he grabs for Sherlock's arm and tries to twist it away.]

[John is combat trained and reacting on instinct, which means that he's more than fast enough to grab and twist Sherlock's arm.]

It's me, John.

[He doesn't try to pull away, that would likely only lead to a fight.]

Bloody... [John lets him go, gritting his teeth.] I know it's you. That hurt. [And he feels just a little unwell in spite of the sleep. He's not going to mention that as he pushes himself up and looks around. It's a long moment before John can even remember where he is or what they talked about last night. Molly and the boy. He needs to... right.]

Where am I going?

[Molly stirs awake with the noise that they're both making, blinking sleeping and looking from one to the other with concern.]

Have either of you actually slept?

[Sherlock rolls his eyes and ignores her.]

Kimler Road, take the Jubilee Line for three stops, turn right, then it's the fourth turn on your left.

I did. He didn't. [Because it's polite to answer people's questions, Sherlock.] I'll be back in a bit. What should I do there... just stand around looking for a bit? Wait 'til I see her.

[Mentally, he's repeating the directions to himself and patting himself down to look for a notepad and pen that aren't there to take notes.]

You might not see her. If you do, then you can leave at once, if not then wait until eight thirty before leaving. That's after the school start time, so she'd no longer come via the house to see her son.

[Molly pushes off the sofa, running her tongue over teeth that feel gritty after sleeping.]

I'll come with you, you shouldn't go on your own.

Molly, you're injured. Might be better for you to stay here.

[So sayeth John Watson, the picture of health and vitality.]

Maybe help Sherlock look after... um... what was her son's name again?

Steve.

[Sherlock replies, which isn't the name he gave before. But names are boring and hardly worth remembering, he likely gave the wrong one last time as well.]

I'm capable of babysitting a child alone, John, how hard can it be?

[John suspects he's going to just need to ask the kid that question with Sherlock's track record and his own memory. Jake the Cellist is currently the only name sticking in his mind for the random people he's met in the last few weeks.]

Have you fed him? Something that isn't complete garbage?

[You must feed and water your children, Sherlock.]

And kids are like puppies. They do need attention when they're not sleeping.

[Sherlock rolls his eyes as if John is saying obvious things; of course, his definition of paying attention and what the child actually needs are likely to be totally different things.]

It's childcare, John. Thousands of utter morons manage every day, it can't be at all difficult, now will you go?

Thousands of utter morons cock it up everyday... [That's muttered darkly, mostly to himself. It seems like this is an argument that isn't going to be won, though. And Molly's coming with him. John rubs a hand carefully over his face.]

Fine. When he wakes up properly, feed him something with protein in it, please. Fruit, as well.

Molls, you ready?

[He'll wait for her to confirm before heading out.]

How's the battery on your phone doing? Might want to take a picture of this place so we can find it again.

[Molly has faith in Sherlock to be capable. She knows that other people think she has a blind spot where he's concerned, but she's seen that there's a good man inside that cares, so he won't let anything happen to a helpless child in his care.

At least her arm aches a bit less this morning, but she's worried about John. He's looking worse, not better, and this day won't be any easier if it's where the final confrontation to Caroline will take place. So she has a determined set to her jaw, ready to protect him if she needs to.]

Oh-- right, good idea, I can do that.

[She fishes her phone out and awkwardly takes a photo, shoving it back on her pocket to continue on with him.]

Did you get much sleep? You look-- you still look tired.

[He did sleep, and that's what's more concerning, personally, to him. John's not going to mention as much to her. He just offers a smile.]

Not as much as I would've liked. Think it's time to admit I'm not as young as I used to be. Floor's not the most comfortable place. You sleep all right?

[John leads their way on the course Sherlock set them. He's mentally repeating the instructions in his head just to keep them straight. Kimler Road. Kimler Road. Jubilee Line to Kimler Road.]

Yeah, I slept fine. The painkillers have worn off, but my arm doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, so there's no need to worry about me.

[Eesh, even she can tell that's overly chipper, she's trying to compensate for the worry she's feeling over John and she went too far. She clears her throat and modulates her voice to a slightly more appropriate level.]

So, I don't suppose you have an Oyster card on you?

[They're both very bad at lying to each other... John's not going to call her on it, though. Instead, he's going to stop, close his eyes and sigh wearily.]

No. I haven't got any money, either.

[And they don't have the time to stop off at the bank. John has gone more than a week now living on charity and it's grating on his last nerve again. He tries to keep his calm for Molly's sake. He'll pay everyone back. Every last dime if he has to take part-time job at a fish and chips stand when this is over, for Christ's sake.]

D'you?

Edited 2018-06-25 23:06 (UTC)

Mm, I've still got my purse with me.

[The hospital had let her keep her personal effects as she hadn't been planning to run away, unlike some terrible patients who had escaped care multiple times in the last few days.

She digs it out of her pocket. It's a butter yellow purse with embroidered flowers on the side, unfortunately marred by being filthy now, smeared with whatever had been within the crematorium oven that she had sheltered in.]

You should-- [Wait, how to phrase this without offending him?] I'm a little scared of being separated, would you take some money just in case so that I know we can both get back here?

[He recognizes what Molly is trying to do and feels just a little bad that it's a tactic that does spare his ego just the tiniest bit. John shakes his head, but swallows his pride.]

I'm keeping a mental tally, Molly. I really will pay you back. For all of this.

[Clara, as well. And Sherlock.]

Thanks.

[He'll take the money and reorient himself on the street before heading them to the nearest tube station.]

He said the Jubilee Line, right? Jubilee. Kimler Road.

[She resists the impulse to tell him that there's no need for him to pay her back, because she has a feeling that he would only take it as a blow to his pride. It's a shame, because she really doesn't need it back. She earns an excellent wage and barely does anything outside of work and so she has a lot of money to spare.]

I know you will, John.

[See, no worries, just a casual loan between friends.

She follows him to the nearest tube station and consults the map just inside the entrance, tracing the journey they need to take.]

Only seven stops, not that far. Are you sure we shouldn't call DI Lestrade to meet us there? This seems like-- isn't it something the police are best involved with?

Seven? [He looks over at her in confusion. Did he miss-hear Sherlock or did the man misspeak? The instructions had been three stops.] Are you sure?

[As he steps closer to the map, he pulls out his phone to start dialing Lestrade, reflexively, but...]

Uh... [John realizes what he's doing and just fiddles with his phone indecisively. Lestrade isn't going to be happy with him. He might just outright arrest John if he turns up and finds that the doctor isn't in his hospital room. But this is important and they should have back-up. Especially for the place Sherlock's staying at. But they can't trust anyone apart from Lestrade in the department. Jim was able to crack an Army base, NSY wouldn't be much trouble.] Jim might have the phones tapped. I don't want him getting wind of where we really are if we can help it. I don't want him or his men anywhere near you, Molly. Not again.

[He trusts her map-reading skills more than Sherlock's directions, so he'll purchase a ticket and follow after her, pocketing his phone.]

[Molly rolls her eyes at John indulgently. Sherlock knows London exceptionally well, but he doesn't keep that up to date with things like tube stations, as he goes everywhere in a taxi. There have been new ones built, and the route slightly changed, so more stops than there had been before.

She frowns. It's both touching to be worried about, and a little insulting to be protected all the time as if she can't help out at all. Maybe she can't, it is her fault that Jim knows so much, after all, isn't it?]

Then call from a payphone, he can't have every phone in the city tapped, that's ridiculous. We shouldn't do this alone, John, he's just as dangerous near you as he is near me.

[John glances at her, frowning, as they step onto the platform to wait.]

It's Lestrade's phone that might be tapped. Or Jim might have people on the force. He was able to trick his way onto a secure military base. Can't imagine the Met's offices'd be hard to plant someone.

[He can recognize the logic of what she's saying, but all the same, there are alarms in his head. Trust no one. Except Sherlock, Molly, James, and Mrs. Hudson. Well, and Lestrade. Just not Lestrade's men.]

[Molly's expression might be hard to pin down, but there's definitely something like gentle sympathy in her eyes. It must be so tiring to be so paranoid, to not trust anyone or anything.

Poor John.]

I don't think he even knows Lestrade exists, I never talked about him. He'll be just another policeman.

He knew my commander from Afghanistan exists, and he's been paying attention to Sherlock, hasn't he? [John shakes his head.] I don't think we can trust it, Molly. We'll be okay. It's just standing around for a bit, then we'll head back.

[He offers her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes as the train pulls in and John joins the queue to wait to get on. The feverishness and malaise he's been feeling since waking this morning decides it's best to remind him that it's there as he's preparing to stand with a bunch of people all around him in a small, confined space.

Well, just as long as he doesn't throw up or anything, it will be fine.]

[This is really not good.

It feels like they're getting closer to catching Caroline Matthews, and maybe even bringing down Moriarty too, but what's the point in John and Sherlock destroy themselves in the process? John especially looks like he's holding on by a thread, like he might just self destruct if he could guarantee to take his enemies out in the same explosion.

She doesn't speak during the tube ride, she just stands pressed close to John to offer silent support. Halfway between stations the train jolts to a stop, the lights flickering overhead.]

Uh-- technical issue?

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