InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "superman! he's shot? WTF?"

Charlie Price (charlieprice) wrote in expresslogs,
@ 2012-07-18 16:15:00

Entry tags:

{james moriarty, {john watson

Who? John Watson & James Moriarty
Where? Mini-kitchen.
When? Wedenesday afternoon.
What? John runs into someone he hoped he'd never see again. James meets John for the first time. Oh, time travel, thou art a heartless bitch!
Warnings? Language, PTSD/flashbacks, cruel, cruel words. Will update if any shit goes down.

Since his birthday, John had pretty much been on a constant high. It had taken a long time for it to sink in; he'd forget until he went to wash his hands or something and saw the ring again. The other day, he'd gone running into the room he shared with Sherlock, grabbed him into a hug, and screeched 'we're engaged!' over and over to a very confused ~~boyfriend~~ fiancé. Sherlock was having a much calmer reaction, but John was enjoying the extra smiles he was getting out of him. Sherlock was happy, he could tell- they were both happy.

So happy, that he had just about forgotten about the rather unwelcome passenger on the train. Even when Sherlock had drugged him, and he'd ended up spilling the truth to James about their future connection, it didn't seem that important. Moriarty wasn't the same man, yet. He was a potential threat, certainly, but not an immediate one. Plus, he and Sherlock were quite a few steps ahead of him. It would take Jim time to plan something, and hopefully there was enough to keep him busy on the train. Hopefully, he wouldn't have a chance to get too bored.

Still, that didn't mean that John really wanted to spend any time with the man. When he walked out of the infirmary and into the kitchen, he felt frozen to the spot at the sight of James Moriarty. Shit.

He looked behind himself, considering backing quietly out of the room and back into the infirmary, hoping that he wouldn't notice. His left hand felt at the small of his back, the sight reassurance of feeling his gun on him. Not that he wanted to use it. He would back away- he took a slow step back toward the entrance... but it was too late. The eye-contact sent a chill of dread through him.

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charlieprice
2012-07-29 12:04 pm UTC (link)

John managed to just nod along, hoping that the conversation would end there. We can't be friends, but we're on the same side. That was enough of a conclusion, wasn't it? Everything in John's body was just screaming at him to get the hell out of there, it was only by sheer determination of the mind that he was managing to stop his muscles from walking him right back out the door. And it was apparent- everything was taught and tense, his shoulders ached with tension.

And then the mood changed. John felt his heart sink- or perhaps it was more his stomach. That sick, queasy feeling was back. He was silently cursing himself for using the word romantic. Was he just putting ideas in the other man's head, now? No- it was a mind game. He had to keep his cool, he had to play the game. His eyes were drawn to Jim's hand, fearing the possibility of a touch- he moved half a step away, just as Jim decided against it, anyway.

"Uncomfortable? No, no-" he responded, less than convincingly- he was angry. Really angry, and now it wasn't just about someone trying to steal his partner, it was much, much deeper than that. He hated him- he hated every single thing about him, and it was really, really difficult to keep that out of his tone, his expression, his stance. Even if he hadn't been involved with Sherlock, he would have hated him.

"Look, best of luck to you and all that. It's really- it's not you, I'm just- like you say, it's not the ideal circumstances for someone in my condition. The train, I mean. Any of it. I'm not- I won't interfere. Sherlock can make his own decisions, I just- I just want him to be happy," he rambled, getting rather twitchy, looking desperately for the best way to make his exit. "Just- don't hurt him. You won't hurt him-" he insisted again, it was more a request than a question, his voice shaking slightly with the stress. As long as Sherlock was safe- Jim could say anything. John didn't even mind if he hurt him in Sherlock's place, although he doubted Sherlock would agree to that one.

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so_changeable
2012-07-29 07:13 pm UTC (link)

"I understand. Really, I do. It's difficult in any case, isn't it? When you think someone might steal your friend away." Small pleasures or not, John was a joy. Sherlock being his own kind of pleasure entirely, and he came with little plastic toys on the side, as well. He took a few steps forward, just short of actually taking John's hand with concern.

"Thank you. Really. It know it's hard for you to say, but thank you- for your support, your luck. I know it's only been a few dates, but-" He looked away, blushing. "I won't make it worse, going on about it. But I'm not going to hurt him. Of course I'm not. Everything's going to be just fine, really." Jim sounded almost desperate to comfort the other man. Memorizing every detail of his face, even from a sidelong glance. He had other people to entertain him, but surely this was the best.

"You see now? Why I wanted us to be friends."

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charlieprice
2012-08-01 12:52 pm UTC (link)

And there it was: steal him away. Such a simple suggestion, and yet it sent a chill right through him. There was the crux of the matter- there was his worst fear, apparently.

It wasn't that he thought Sherlock could be stolen away. He knew that Sherlock would never let it happen; he had promised he was never going to leave him again, and he had a ring on his finger to prove it. He didn't think for a second that Sherlock would leave- not willingly. And that was what he was afraid of; Sherlock also hadn't willingly committed suicide, but that was the kind of power this man had. John hoped that the same feat wouldn't be possible on the train- and yes, it would certainly be more difficult to pull off, but if there was something they had plenty of, it was time. He knew what James Moriarty was capable of; maybe there would be nothing they could do to stop it. If Moriarty wanted them apart...

Now, he really felt sick. Sick and dizzy, and he was sure his expression was sinking even more with every passing second. He felt about ready to just cave in on himself.

Dates. He gritted his teeth at the word, feeling his jaw clench visibly as though he'd almost been struck in the face. His normal reaction was an urge to threaten him- he wanted to get right up in his face and make it very, very clear that Sherlock was his and no one touched him. With anyone else- well, he was sure anyone else would have been sporting a bloody nose by now. He wasn't himself with Jim. It was like playing with a live grenade, he didn't want to accidentally pull the pin.

He gave him a stern nod, swallowing back any cruel words that came to mind. He forced a sort-of smile. "Mmhmm. Well, give it time. I'm sure I'll..." -God, he hated this, he hated every second of it, he wanted to fucking scream - "... I'm sure we'll get on just fine."

Was that convincing? Doubtful. He needed out before he made it any worse. "Well- I'll... let you get on," he said, waving his hand in the general direction of the kitchen.

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so_changeable
2012-08-01 08:58 pm UTC (link)

Jim very nearly wanted to cry out. Oh no, stay, let me make you some tea, but he'd pushed it just far enough, and if he wanted to play again later, it wouldn't do for the good doctor to burst a blood vessel and stroke out right there on the kitchen floor. They were in a survival situation, you had to make rations last, and anyway, Jim had never been one to gorge himself. There was never enough for that, no matter where he was.

"I hope so, John. I really do. Because I can tell he means a lot to you, and well- I know you want him to be happy. I can see that." He took a tentative step forward, as though unsure, looking nervously at the ground, but ultimately stuck out his hand in John's direction. "Thank you for coming to speak with me. It means the world. You're a good man, John Watson."

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charlieprice
2012-08-01 09:37 pm UTC (link)

John wasn't even listening anymore; he couldn't. The part of him that wanted to get the hell out of there had taken over, and he could feel every muscle just quivering as the flight response took over. He was nodding, wide-eyed and clearly desperate for him to just let him leave. He hated that his military composure always seemed to slip around Moriarty. He hated feeling so exposed and vulnerable, especially with him.

He was still nodding as Jim moved closer, although he instinctively took a little shuffle back, out of harms way. He looked at Jim's offered hand as if it were a loaded weapon, ready to go off. His heart was racing; a snide, dare he say jealous part of him wanted to deliberately ignore the hand and walk away. That would be a ridiculously childish snub, but one that he felt would give him great satisfaction, as pathetic as that was. Furthermore, the thought of feeling his skin made John feel rather queasy.

No, he had to do it. He had to keep up the act, for Sherlock. He gritted his teeth again, gave him a stern nod, and made sure that his handshake was firm and confident, the absolute opposite of what he felt. "Good day, Mr Moriarty. It was- a pleasure," he lied, dropping his hand again. He gave him another little nod, and backed toward the exit for a few paces before he risked turning around to leave properly.

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so_changeable
2012-08-01 09:59 pm UTC (link)

Cameras. He needs cameras, when they stop in civilization, he needs them everywhere, because memories are pristine and all that, but what he wouldn't give to be able to watch this over and over and over again.

It's a passing fancy, and he turns back to his sandwich, completely unwilling to wipe the grin from his face. Pleasure. That was exactly what it was, Jim thought, steadying his food to bring it back to his own cabin. A pleasure indeed.

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