#johnlock angst

Given what we later learn about being allowed chips when you're feeling suicidal.... that is not the feelings-free connection we all would hope for.

*it starts with Watson in his room, and now a lab.* Watson: *slightly worried about the others on their supply run* I hope they come back soon right Sherlock? *turns away immediately at the sight of the machine and Sherlock*

Sherlock: *on the bed, hooked up to a machine* *growls softly*

Watson: I know Sherlock just don’t look at me with those eyes please

Sherlock: *looks at him with sad eyes and growls again* Watson: please stop looking at me like that *wipes tears away* just stop please

Sherlock: *looks away from Watson* Watson: I’m sorry for not being careful with the medications *still crying softly* Sherlock: *falls asleep* Watson: *sighs softly and leaves the room* stay strong Sherlock stay strong

Watson: *sits on the couch, and reads a book about self improvement (ooc: this is canon now) and waits for Juliet* Juliet: *runs inside with a bag full of stuff* stay quiet there’s an infected…

Watson: *whispering* do you know who it is?

Juliet: *Whispering* it’s one of the gargoyles from the bridge.

*both wait silently for Reggie to go away* Juliet-*once Reggie is gone* that was close right Watson?

Watson- that looked like a new form of the infection…

*They hear things breaking and shattering in the other room.*

Sherlock-*Growls* WaTsOn…..

A portrait of a friendship moving into a romance, and of trying to figure out how hold on when everything you have begins to fall apart. Drug use/unhealthy relationships, marking as possible dubious consent to be safe. Contains case-related violence and (trigger warning!) depictions of self-harm.

"It starts with a dance. It ends with blood. There is not so much distance between the two as one might think. Most things worth doing ultimately require either blood or tears and this one will extract both. But that is not for a long time yet. This is just the beginning, and right now there is only dancing."

Shelter - liriodendron

I had always thought purple suited him. That specific purple shirt... not elaborating, in case kids read this, but let me tell you... it did things to me.

And again... purple on him does things to me. Bad things. Initiating gut-wrenching guilt, which causes nausea, mental and physical pain. I want to bend over and throw up. But I don't deserve that kind of relief. I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to be even close to him. How could I deserve that... when I - me, John H. Watson - am the very reason for this distinct purple colour around his eye. When I am the reason he got broken ribs... and more purple bruises hidden behind this light blue shirt.

I am supposed to be his doctor, not his tormenter. I've failed, and if I could tie my arteries and veins to knots to make my heart start turning purple... I would.

~~~

prompt "purple" by @notjustamumj

thanks for the tag @meetinginsamarra and @lisbeth-kk