Stranger: I'm running away. -JW
Stranger: I don't know. London, maybe. -JW
You: Any particular reason? -SH
Stranger: Of course -- I wouldn't do it without one. -JW
You: Well, I figured. What I meant was "Care to tell me"? -SH
Stranger: Meet me at our place. You can see it for yourself. -JW
You: Okay. Be there shortly. -SH
Stranger: John sat beneath the large tree, exhausted and in pain. Their lean to was stored beneath it, ready if either needed to stay the night. John planned on it, resting and healing before he took off.
You: True to his word, Sherlock didn't take long to reach "their place." Naturally, he had his theories as to John's reasoning for running away--making him want to be there for his friend all the sooner. He approached the tree that had become their place as he spoke out, "John?"
Stranger: "I'm here," he said weakly. His jaw was bruising, he knew, nearly every part of his body sore and overworked.
You: Sherlock frowned as he approached John, crouching down next to him. His eyes scanned over his friend, taking in all he could. He felt a bubble of rage form and, suddenly, wanted nothing more than to punch the... creep that hurt John. Or, perhaps, call the police on him. Preferably both, in all honesty. Though he knew he wouldn't be allowed either.
He wasn't entirely sure what to say. Other people might have asked "Are you okay?" but Sherlock already knew the answer. What would be the point in asking, then? Instead, he placed what he hoped to be a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
Stranger: He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against Sherlock's arm. "My jaw's messed up. I think it might be fractured. A few minor cuts. My dad had me training long after the game today because we lost and I'm working off of two hours of sleep. I can't move anymore." The images of his dad came back and he shuddered painfully. Too much more to tell with too little strength to say it.
You: Sherlock bit his lip. "I should take you to a hospital..." he murmured. He removed his hand from John's shoulder, moving to sit next to him under the tree--letting his side press against John's. "Or get you some ice, at least."
Stranger: John would have shrugged if he could have. "No. I'll be fine. I iced it before I left and I'll ice it again when I get the chance. It'll be fine." He cleared his throat and winced.
You: Sherlock made a humming sound in response. He didn't particularly agree with John--of course he'd said he's "fine"--but he very obviously didn't want to move and Sherlock doubted he could make him. Instead, he gently draped an arm across John's shoulders, hoping to will him to sleep. "First train to London, then?"
Stranger: "No." He leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder, sighing. Everything hurt, and there was shame that made his blood cold. "I'm going to stay here for the night, and maybe the next. Just until I can...I feel a bit better."
You: "We... could go back to my house, if you'd prefer," Sherlock offered. "It's empty and certainly more comfortable."
Stranger: He sighed, hanging his head. "I can't walk that far," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.
You: "In the morning, then, if you're up to it," Sherlock decided, his hand unconsciously rubbing small circles into John's shoulder.
Stranger: He let out a soft noise of appreciation, sitting forward a bit. "That sounds good. You might need to help me a bit."
You: "Of course," he responded almost instantly. He paused a moment before deciding to ask, "John, is there anything I can do?"
Stranger: He bit his lip, opening his eyes slightly. "Don't tell my dad where I'm going. Keep me away from him. And when I'm gone, keep in touch. And...keep Harry safe too."
You: The first two were a given. It had never crossed his mind to do the opposite. The third one came as a bit of a shock though. "'Keep in touch?'" he repeated, quirking a brow. "I'm coming with you, naturally."
Stranger: His eyes widened, and he looked up at Sherlock. "You are? But this isn't your fight. I'm going to be living on the streets, you know." Running away with Sherlock? It sounded far too good to be true, but he didn't think that it would ever actually happen. "What about school?"
You: "School?" Sherlock snorted derisively. "It's not like you'd be finishing school either," he pointed out. "Besides... you're my friend. That makes your fights, my fights." He paused, before letting his tone take a slightly more teasing note, "Don't think you can be rid of me so easily, Watson."
Stranger: He laughed lightly, stopping quickly after his ribs protesting, turning his head to press his mouth against Sherlock's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured, shutting his eyes. "I've thought about it for a while and...I'm more than thankful that I won't be alone."
You: Sherlock momentarily tightened his grip, in an awkward, one-armed side hug in response. "You should sleep..."
Stranger: He nodded, but sighed. "Can you help me setup the lean to?" he murmured, knowing that more than one thing would give out on him if he tried to do it himself.
You: Sherlock nodded, removing his arm from John and standing up. "I'll take care of it," he told his friend. Having done it what seemed like so many times before, Sherlock was really rather efficient at setting it up. In a matter of minutes, the lean to was in place and ready for them.
Stranger: He shook his head, smiling, as he stood up, making fists at his side instead of gritting his teeth. He grabbed his backpack and hissed at the pain, slowly making his way beneath the shelter. He pulled out a sleeping bag and laid it down, the final piece of the shelter. He sighed, at the prospect of laying back down. His legs trembled already.
You: Once John was in the lean to, Sherlock made his way in as well. He took to lying on his stomach, next to the sleeping bag John had laid out, bringing his arms to rest underneath his head.
Stranger: Slowly and surely, John laid down, every part of his body protesting at the efforts. He clenched his jaw at one point which brought tears to his eyes. "Sherlock, you can sleep on the other half you know." He was too hot to cover up, and the ground must have been incredibly uncomfortable.
You: Sherlock watched John's pained movements and felt a stab of helplessness at the fact he, really, couldn't do anything. At his friend's comment, however, he nodded and didn't hesitate in, literally, rolling over so he was on his back on top of the sleeping bag.
Stranger: John nodded, and closed his eyes. At least he wouldn't be cold and somewhat more uncomfortable then. He yawned, and hearing his jaw popped, stopped, slowly shutting his jaw. "Goodnight, Sherlock," he murmured, reaching a hand out to gently touch Sherlock's.
You: "Good night," he responded, shifting slightly closer to his friend. When he felt John's hand touched his own, he decided to give into the impulse that told him to interlock their fingers. "I'm here, John," he murmured under his breath, barely audible even to himself.
Stranger: His dreams were nightmares, though his body was far too sore to move during sleep. Instead, however, he made noises, pitiful yips whenever his dad appeared and chased after him. His hand twitched in Sherlock's eyelids fluttering. A sweat broke out over his body and when it had evaporated, he was left shivering, still not waking though.
You: Sherlock didn't sleep. He wasn't tired and, besides, how could he once he heard John start to have nightmares. He shifted so he was on his side, watching John. With his free hand he gently shook John's shoulder, in an attempt to wake him up. But, when that didn't seem to work and his friend started to shiver, he moved closer yet to John. Sherlock wrapped his arm around John, gently pushed his forehead against John's, and tried to will the nightmare away.
Stranger: At the contact, he slowly began to pull from his nightmare, attempting to move closer into Sherlock's arms but stopped the minute his muscles began to work. His dad was being chased away by some large hound, protecting John. He nuzzled Sherlock's nose with his own, sighing once it was completely gone. Of course his hound would save him.
You: Sherlock was relieved when John seemed to calm down, though he didn't dare move away at risk of waking him or the nightmares returning. If anything, he pulled John closer, feeling protective.
Stranger: John rested much easier after that, hand still wrapped in Sherlock's his other moving up to hold his bicep. It was better, sleeping with another person. Especially after the night John had. Every noise on his way here he thought was his dad, running through the dark, after John. To repeat it all over again. The sun was up for a while when John awoke, sighing softly and opening his eyes. He jumped, heart beating, seeing Sherlock's face so close to his.
You: After a while, Sherlock found his body relaxing. He didn't sleep--not really. Maybe he lightly dosed off for a bit but he was still up before John. Not so much longer, though. He felt his friend jolt upon waking up and concern flooded him. "'Morning..." he greeted lightly, not bothering to move until John decided to.
Stranger: He flushed, blinking a few times. "I, uh, what are you doing?" he asked hesitantly, noticing everywhere their bodies were touching. Oh. Well, John had initiated some of it as well, but... Did Sherlock kiss him in the night? The thought made his pulse increase dramatically. He wouldn't do that. Not him.
You: Sherlock raised an eyebrow in confusion. What was he doing? It seemed pretty obvious to him. Ah, he probably meant "why." "You were having a nightmare and wouldn't wake up," he responded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to hug your best mate's nightmares away.
Stranger: He blinked a few more times before nodding, swallowing hard. "You can, uh, let me go now, you know," he said, noticing how close Sherlock's mouth was to his own. God, if John wanted to, he could just move a little bit and --no. No, that was not okay especially when Sherlock, his best friend, was offering to run away with him.
You: Sherlock nodded, untangling their fingers and scooting away. He wondered momentarily if he had gone about it the wrong way--what with how John was acting. Though, he didn't miss the way John's eyes seemed to move to his own lips. That cleared things up a bit. "Do... are you feeling any better?"
Stranger: He slowly assessed himself, before stretching all of his muscles. somewhere tighter, and the majority of his back and calves were made of knots. Throat wasn't feeling much better, and his jaw ached. But he wasn't as scared anymore. "Yeah. A little bit." He reached out and took Sherlock's hand again, frowning at the loss of contact.
You: Sherlock nodded, listening to John's assessment of himself. In the light, he seemed to look even worse than before. They really needed to do something about his jaw. However, he smiled ever-so-slightly when John reclaimed his hand. "Do you think you can make to my house?"
Stranger: "I guess I need to, don't I?" he asked with a small smile, slowly sitting up and frowning. Yeah. Okay. Not better at all. He had a hard time moving his shoulders from the knots, and he grimaced. He sighed, and tried to make his way to his feet, losing his balance one he stood up completely though.
You: Sherlock was on his feet faster than you could blink, ready to assist John he getting to his own feet. Seeing that John was definitely having problems standing, he practically hovered over him. Once he was certain his friend wouldn't be standing on his own, he carefully wrapped an arm around John's waist, to support him the best he could.
Stranger: He growled, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's shoulders. "This is ridiculous. I should be able to walk and be just bloody fine." He needed to relax in a hot bath, let his muscles relax and stretch back out, and then ice his jaw.
You: "It's fine," Sherlock responded, leaning over to grab John's backpack and sling it over his shoulder. "It's not a long walk..." he commented needlessly.
Stranger: They began their way to Sherlock's house, John needing to take slow and measured steps to avoid tripping and falling, which only hurt him worse. "I hate him," he said after a moment, breathing hard.
You: Sherlock did his best to keep his friend as steady as possible, going at the pace he set. At his comment he couldn't help but think "Well, no wonder," and the words, "So do I," came out before he even thought about it.
Stranger: He looked over, at Sherlock for a moment before needing to look back down quickly. "What? Why do /you/ hate him? You've met the man three times," he said, measuring his steps to the next large root he would need to step over.
You: "Once would have more than enough," he responded with a frown. "Anyone who'd hurt you the way he does is certainly deserving of my hatred, don't you think?"
Stranger: He stopped looking at the ground, unable to look away from friend. Sherlock would care that much that he would waste energy to hate his dad? Well, apparently. The thought nearly made his chest warm, once ice cold and guarded. Almost, though. He completely missed the root, and his foot caught, grip on Sherlock tightening.
You: Sherlock felt John's gaze on him, and couldn't help but look down at his friend as well. Though, the look was short lived as, suddenly, John's grip was tighter and he was taking on more weight than he had expected. He hadn't had time to prepare for it and, unfortunately, John's trip took Sherlock down too. Mid-fall, he did his best to maneuver them so he'd take the brunt of the fall.
Stranger: John bit his lip, making it bleed as he landed on Sherlock, head hitting his chest. "Jesus, are you alright?" he asked, sitting up slightly and looking over Sherlock, pushing the horrendous pain away from his mind. Assess Sherlock first. If not okay, apply treatment. Then worry about self. His hands went to the back of Sherlock's head, ensuring no blood. He sighed with relief. Nothing.
You: Sherlock propped himself up, doing a quick check of himself. Scraped elbow, small bump on side of head, possible bruise on chest, and bruised hip. "I'm fine," he replied immediately. Because, really, in comparison to John how could he be anything but fine? "What about you?" he asked, following John's suit and assessing him.
Stranger: "Manageable," he said, running his hand through Sherlock's hair to check for a concussion. Fingers found a small bump that he was sure would go back to normal within minutes as long as he was careful. Possible concussion though. He rolled to his back, allowing Sherlock to get up. He hid his face as the pain flashed across it, squeezing his eyes shut. "Sorry," he murmured.
You: Sherlock allowed his friend to needlessly check for injuries. Once he was no longer pinned to the ground by a John, he pulled himself to his feet. "Don't apologize, it's fine," he told him, ready to assist John back up.
Stranger: He slowly began to stand, and when the ankle that had caught the root pulsed with pain when he tried to step up on it, he shook his head. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. His other leg was pinned beneath him, and he wasn't able to get it out. "Just...never mind," he muttered, picking up a rock and throwing it at a tree. "Obviously fate wants to keep me here where daddy-o can find me." His eyes darkened.
You: Sherlock frowned, looking down at his friend. "Well, then screw fate," Sherlock declared, crouching down and pulling John's arm across his shoulder, taking as much of his friend's weight as he possibly could. "We're five minutes, at most, away. On three, we're going to get you on your feet," he took control of the situation. "One... two... three." He lifted his friend as gently as he possibly could while still getting him up.
Stranger: He yelled out, dropping his head as pain coursed through him. This was Hell. As much as he had to thank Sherlock for this, this was Hell. "Let's just go," he whispered, trying to relax his jaw before he only made it worse. He heavily leaned on Sherlock whenever he put down his bad foot, wincing every time.
You: Sherlock grimaced, "Sorry..." he muttered. Though, he knew, this would be better for John in the long run. He did his best to keep John from having to put weight on his newly injured ankle as possible.
The five minutes thing was lie. It took them closer to ten minutes. Sherlock knew it would but five minutes sounded a lot more reassuring than ten, he had figured. Once they were in his house, he asked John, "What first?"
Stranger: "Aspirin," he said, closing his eyes. Sweat had beaded on his brow and upper lip, and he was sure he smelled like roses and sunflowers. "And then I need to get in the bath for a few days with my foot elevated." He felt safe, for once in such a long time. This house was his home for a long time, and it still was.
You: Sherlock nodded, leading his friend to the couch before departing into his kitchen. It wasn't long before he returned with the bottle of aspirin and a tall glass of water. He handed the bottle to John and set the glass on the side table wordlessly before returning to the kitchen. When he returned, he had a bag of frozen vegetables. "Turns out we don't have any icepacks or anything..." he explained, holding out the vegetables.
Stranger: He took the medication while Sherlock was in the kitchen, drinking nearly half of the cup by the time he got back. A small smile lit up his face when he saw the bag and took it after thanking Sherlock with his smile. "May even work better than an ice pack." He pressed it against his jaw and his eyelids fluttered at the amazing sensation. He hadn't realized it was so hot. "And I think it's time for my muscles to finally relax."
You: Sherlock hovered for a moment in front of John, trying to think of something more he could do for his friend. It was then, he decided, he'd help with the relaxation of John's muscles--perhaps as a small way to apologize for being so rough earlier. He sat down next to his friend and started to give John a massage--beginning up on his shoulders. He certainly wasn't the best at it but, perhaps, it'd help if just a little bit. "Might hurt at first," he warned.
Stranger: Oh. Was Sherlock really this concerned about him? He leaned his neck forward, ignoring the initial pain of the knots being worked. Sherlock's fingers, if he ignored the pain, were soothing, calming. If he wasn't careful, it would even end up being sleep inducing. "Really, you don't need to," he murmured, breathing a little more deeply than he had been before.
You: Sherlock worked the knotted and tight muscles to the best of his ability. "It's fine," he grunted in response. Really, he didn't mind. Surely John would do the same were he in John's place. In fact, John would probably do more. He moved his hands down to lower part of John's back, working those muscles next.
Stranger: (I'll be right back!)
Stranger: His eyes rolled with delight when Sherlock continued working down his back. Oh, Jesus, was this better than just a bath. His calm seemed to radiate into John, turning any worry he had into something small and insignificant. Amazing. Sherlock was just...amazing.
You: Sherlock continued the massage until his hands were so tired they probably weren't helping much anymore and he had to stop. Though, he prided himself slightly at how much more relaxed his friend was. That was certainly an accomplishment he was happy about.
Stranger: John was smiling when Sherlock had stopped, finally able to move his shoulders properly again. "Jesus Sherlock," he mumbled standing straight up again and stretching his back. Light years better. "I might keep you in my pocket for when I get another knot somewhere." He turned, looking at his friend, appreciation and thanks visible in his face.
You: Sherlock smirked, "Don't think this will be a common thing," he joked lightly. He glanced down at John's foot as he stood. "We should wrap your ankle. Did you still want to bathe?"
Stranger: "Preferably," he said, wondering if he would give the ice up for his foot or keep it to his chin. Didn't matter, really. He should probably just alternate them. "I can always wrap it once I'm finished."
You: Sherlock nodded, "I trust you remember where everything is?" He stood up, adding as almost an afterthought, "Do you need any help?"
Stranger: He flushed, looking down and then nodding. "Just to get there, at least. Then I can sit down and get undressed, and I should be fine from there."
You: Sherlock nodded, once again wrapping an arm around his friend's waist to help guide him to the bathroom. He was glad the bathroom with the really nice tub was on the first floor. Once there, he led him to the toilet and told him, "I'll go get a towel." He grabbed a towel from the linens closet before returning and setting it on the counter. "Just shout if you need something," he told him, shoving his hands in his pockets for retreating from the bathroom.
Stranger: He watched Sherlock come and leave, smiling the entire time. He was utterly endearing. Clothes off and tub filled, John slowly eased himself into the water and sighed, his back reacting pleasurably while his legs...not so much. He rubbed out his legs until they were somewhat better and then put his ankle up. He bathed quickly and then sat to soak, letting everything really just calm down, the touch of his father melting away. He had Sherlock now. Well, he might've always had him but it was different now. Finally, when the water began to get colder, he tried to stand up on one foot and slipped. Oh great. He carefully slung one leg over, cupping himself for protection, and slowly rolled out of the tub, hitting the ground with a thud. Better, at least. He used the toilet to stand up, and dried off before he realized he didn't have any clothes.
You: Sherlock had decided to take a seat just outside the bathroom door. Just in case. He decided it was a good plan when he heard a loud thus come from the bathroom. Instantly, Sherlock was on his feet. He almost decided to barge right in but, realized, John might not appreciate that. Something about privacy and personal space. He settled for calling through the door, "Are you alright?"
Stranger: He looked at the door, afraid that Sherlock had come in. Relieved, he wrapped the towel around his waist and hopped to the door and opened it with a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just..do you know why my backpack is? I forgot to bring clothes in and..." He shrugged.
You: Sherlock waited for answer, he could hear him shuffling about but that still didn't get rid of his urge to open the door just to be sure. Then, finally, the door opened. Good. "Oh, uh, yeah, it's in the living room. I'll go grab it," he responded. The backpack had been unceremoniously discarded onto the ground shortly after they had walked through the door. Grabbing the bag, he returned to the bathroom. "Here," he walked into the bathroom and set the bag on the counter for his friend.
Stranger: John smiled again, tightening the towel around his hips. The minor scrapes on his chest and stomach he could easily say was from falling yesterday, he decided as he turned away from Sherlock. The minor cut on his shoulder as well. Thank God he couldn't see John's hips though. He would've killed his dad. "Thanks, Sherlock."
You: Once again, Sherlock nodded. He briefly wondered if he was turning into a bobble head. As he left the bathroom, he couldn't help but give John a quick glace over--assessing just how much damage had been inflicted on him.
Stranger: He let a breath out and dropped the towel, assessing the bruises on each of his hips in the mirror. They were dark and ugly, and it made John tremble. He quickly turned away and gave his attention to getting dressed. Five minutes later he finished, hopping out to Sherlock. "Definitely one of the best baths I've had," he said with a smile.
You: Sherlock returned with a small smile of his own. "Good. Back to the couch?" he didn't wait for an answer before leading John back. Once that was done, he was going off to find his first-aid kit. "Shall I wrap your ankle? Or did you want to?" he questioned.
Stranger: Sherlock certainly was taking control of this. "You really don't need to," he said, setting the thawing vegetables on his swollen ankle. "You've done a lot already." He smirked. "Now here I thought you didn't want to be a doctor."
You: Sherlock snorted at the idea of him being a doctor, "Just should be wrapped properly," he retorted, setting the bandages on the table before taking a seat on the couch.
Stranger: He leaned forward and began to carefully assess the swollen area -- sprain, certainly. Wrapping it gently but firmly, he kept moving it until it was perfect, and when he was finished, he tried to figure out how to elevate it. "Mind if I...?" he trailed off, motioning lying down in Sherlock's lap..
You: Sherlock watched as John worked. He'd make a good doctor one day, he decided. Though... he wondered if he'd ever be able to considering he wasn't finishing school anymore. At the question Sherlock shook his head, "Feel free."
Stranger: He carefully moved his foot up onto the couch, setting the veggies on and then laid down, placing his head carefully on Sherlock's thigh. His eyes closed, finally feeling better physically as well as emotionally. One of his hands reached to play with Sherlock's curls. "You know we lost the game, right?" he murmured, alluding to last night.
You: Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning into John's touch slightly. He found himself enjoying the way his friend's fingers felt moving through his hair. "What game is that?" he responded with a hum.
Stranger: "Football, of course. Talent scouts were there and so was my dad. He expected big things out of me last night." He raised his other hand slightly, looking for Sherlock's hand. "So naturally, he gave me a training session for four hours, after the game. Didn't get home until ten. I was exhausted and tired and just wanted to go to bed. He tossed me around a bit, jostled me, said some things, and then hit me." He paused, not wanting to talk about the rest of it yet. He wasn't sure if he would ever want to talk about it. Maybe Sherlock could guess and then they just wouldn't talk about it. That seemed like the best idea.
You: Sherlock instantly took John's offered hand, not really thinking about it as he listened. What he had said fit pretty well with the theory he had come up with. Still, hearing John actually say it rekindled the previous anger that he had felt last night--and then some. Though, he merely inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling the emotion. "...I'm sorry."
Stranger: He frowned, opening his eyes to look at his friend. Well, he was glad he didn't say it all. "It's hardly your fault, Sherlock. If anything, you're getting me out of there. You're saving me from him." He gently tugged a perfect curl.
You: Sherlock shook his head lightly. "You don't deserve to be treated that way," he responded, attempting for it to sound more like a statement of fact than one fueled with the anger he felt. The way his hand tightened on John's might have also been a giveaway.
Stranger: "Well, I'm not going to be treated like that anymore, am I?" he asked, hand moving to gently rub Sherlock's face. Wait. Just friends. It moved back to his hair. He rubbed soothing circles on Sherlock's hand, trying to help calm the other boy down.
You: "Never," was out of his mouth immediately. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, allowing himself to get lost in John's touch. It was then he decided one day in the, at least, semi-near future he'd convince John to give him a scalp massage.
Stranger: "So no need to get upset." He closed his eyes again, breathing more deeply. He could feel his breath again, which was a miracle after the last day, and he wanted to know what Sherlock was thinking. Was it about him? Them running away? His father? He frowned slightly. Sherlock would be giving up so much for him. It made him nearly sick with guilt.
You: Sherlock gave a noncommittal grunt in response. He opened his eyes again, as if sensing a change in the atmosphere. Looking down, he couldn't help but frown a bit to see John's expression had shifted. "What?" he questioned quietly, trying to determine what his friend seemed to be worrying about.
Stranger: "You," he mumbled, wiping the hair away from Sherlock's face. "You're too good."
You: Sherlock huffed, "Hardly." He looked down at John. "You won't be thinking that in three weeks time."
Stranger: He rolled his eyes, opening them. "I've known you for years and I've got an accurate good-or-bad meter. You're...you're giving up a lot. For me." He looked down at his foot, shy all of a sudden. "I know that absolutely no one else would do this for me."
You: Sherlock shrugged in his best non-nonchalant way. "Well, I can't understand why not," he responded honestly. "If anyone here is 'too good' it's you."
Stranger: "Yeah, okay, Sherlock," he said, shaking his head slightly. Pins and needles were beginning in his hand that was combing through Sherlock's hair so he dropped it, sighing at the loss of contact.
You: "You don't believe me," he accused quietly, analyzing his friend. He paused. "...You're my only friend, John," he admitted, quietly, biting his lip slightly as he shifted his gaze straight up--looking anywhere but at his friend. "I'd be giving up a lot more to just let you walk out of my life."
Stranger: He swallowed, and looked up, trying to see Sherlock's face to no avail. "And you're my best friend. Even more than that, if it was possible. You know I'd take a bullet for you, and.... and I've been fighting to stay with you for years." Maybe it was too much -- that the reason he didn't run away earlier was to stay with Sherlock. Of course, he had no idea that this would happen, that Sherlock would so willingly just leave and go with im.
Stranger: (just in case we lose connection -or i fall asleep on you because that's always likely- mind giving me your tumblr? :D)
You: Sherlock finally glanced back down at John, "I... really?" he responded, a bit incredulously. He honestly couldn't think of what more to say. Instead, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against John's forehead, hoping it'd say the gratefulness he just couldn't seem to explain.
(oh yeah! www.justananonymouslover.tumblr.com :D Yours?)
Stranger: (shadowwriter007.tumblr.com :D)
Stranger: He smiled at the kiss, closing his eyes and wishing he could sit up and reciprocate to Sherlock. He obviously just wanted to show how strong their friendship was -- more so than words, and it wasn't as though they had a normal one. Most of the time, when in private, John would reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly when either of them needed support.
You: When he sat back up, he couldn't help but smile back at John. "London will be great, John, just you wait," he commented, bringing his free hand to rest in John's short hair--playing with it similar to what John had been doing earlier.
Stranger: His smile grew slightly, eyes still shut and rolling when Sherlock played with his hair. "I hope. Are we still getting a flat together, once we can afford it? I should be able to get a job quickly enough."
You: "Of course," he responded to the question about the flat. Thinking about jobs, he added, though more to himself the John, "I wonder if the police will be receptive to my assistance..."
Stranger: "They should be, once they see what you can do. And if they don't their obviously idiots." He smiled at his own words, knowing that Sherlock would enjoy that.
You: Sherlock smirked, "Quite right you are." Suddenly, he was feeling quite tired. Letting his head fall back and his eyes closed, he relaxed a bit--keeping his fingers moving through John's hair.
Stranger: He watched Sherlock while relaxing and knew he didn't get a spot of sleep last night. He frowned, trying to think of how he could possibly make Sherlock more comfortable. "Take a nap. You should lie down or something though so your neck doesn't get messed up."
You: Sherlock shook his head. "I'm quite comfortable this way," he stated plainly.
Stranger: He frowned. "You could lie down next to me, if you wanted. Not much room, but better than that I would hope."
You: "Won't disturb your ankle?" he asked, sitting back up and glancing over at it.
Stranger: "I can make room."
You: Sherlock nodded, giving in then. He readjusted himself so he and John could lie comfortably on the small couch. It'd probably make more sense to merely go to Sherlock's room but... that, he decided, involved too much moving.
Stranger: John laid next to the back of the sofa and on his side, good leg propped beneath him and bag one elevated. He wrapped one arm around Sherlock, closing his eyes as he got ready for a little stay for a while.
You: Sherlock's long limbs just barely fit on the couch, he discovered, as he lied on his side as well. He, too, wrapped an arm around John, his other pinned slightly beneath his body. He curled against John, closing his eyes.
Stranger: John placed a small kiss against Sherlock's chest, and sighed, wondering if they would ever get a chance to do these things again. Well, if not, John needed to stop thinking about it then and just enjoy the moment.
You: Sherlock hummed contentedly, planting a kiss of his own on top of John's head. "Thank you, John," he murmured into his friend's hair.
Stranger: He opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. "I haven't done anything."
You: Sherlock shook his head, "But more than I could say..." he responded, feeling himself drift off.
Stranger: (I'm fall asleep right now, but message me on tumblr sometime, okay? xD You're brillaint.)
You: (Haha, I'm about to pass out too xD I'll be sure to message you sometime n.n You're definitely brillaint~)
