Charlie Price (![]() ![]() @ 2012-05-04 15:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | {john watson, {sherlock holmes |
Who? The doctor & the detective.
Where? Some beach shack somewhere.
When? Backdated to Thursday night, after John gives James the drugs.
What? John has been taking risks, Sherlock is raging. Fighting descends into BDSM. No, really.
Rating? NC-17. Drug-talk, violence, sex, etc.
Sherlock was angry. Really angry, and John knew that he really had every right to be. If it had been the other way around, John would have been more than pissed off. He hated their fights - there hadn't really been any of them, beyond childish bickering, since they'd got together, and John could only imagine how much worse it would be, emotionally charged. Sherlock didn't cope with with emotionally charged at the best of times.
John had all the best intentions. In his mind, there really hadn't been an alternative - James needed painkillers, and opium was the best that Tortuga had to provide. But the thing was, that even in being selfless, John had ended up being selfish. He'd risked his own life for another human being - that was in his nature. That was who he was. But he hadn't just risked his own life - he'd risked leaving Sherlock alone. And deep down, John knew that he really didn't have an excuse for him. He would fight his corner, he would try to reason with his partner, but really... what made James his responsibility?
As promised, he had picked up some food for them (not that the 1700s idea of dinner was much to look forward to) and an excessive amount of rum (he had the feeling that they might be needing it) but he didn't think it was going to be anywhere near enough to placate Sherlock in a mood. He'd managed to clean himself up in the infirmary, but it was still quite clear that he'd been in a bit of a brawl. He was hoping that the details wouldn't come up, but with a detective on the case... it was unlikely.
John took a deep breath as he approached their little shack, uncharacteristically nervous as he thought for a second that maybe he better knock rather than walk right in. Was that even more ridiculous? Probably. Instead, he sort of knocked and opened the door at the same time, biting into his lip as he peered inside, half-wondering if he was about to get punched in the face. "Sherlock?" he said softly, closing the door behind him. He could hear his own heart beating, hard and fast with anxiety. He would forgive him, eventually. Wouldn't he?