|John Watson internationally smuggles tea (imhisblogger) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2013-04-08 00:22:00
|Entry tags:||john watson, robin hood|
Who:Robin and John
What:Meet up at the range of random again.
He'd been trying to be okay. Trying to move on with his life. At the very least, trying not to bother the friends he had with it. It still hurt. Time wasn't a thing that was fixing this and John was worrying. The things he saw at night he couldn't even put into words. The things he saw during the day were hardly better, but at least there were distractions. Friends he could talk to, people who were still there and hadn't left. Sherlock was gone. Gone. He couldn't just come back, no matter how much John wished he could. No matter how many magical beings said they could. He shouldn't. Not like that. John knew it wasn't right. Still some of his thoughts veered away. So many magical beings that could do miracles but none could help.
It was windy out, John didn't care. He grabbed a sport coat and headed for the range. He needed to get his head together. At this rate they all probably thought he was batty and he wouldn't blame a single one. Some days he thought he was. Once he'd reassured Kat that he was going to be fine, he left. Once she had left him alone, and Rose had gone to sleep the house was full of memories. Full of things he wished to forget. He left a note and left it behind.
His only thoughts were that he needed to be away. He didn't care where, or how far he had to walk, just away. The wind tossed his hair and all sort of directions. It was nice though. It gave him exactly the numbing distraction he needed. He pulled his gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on both hands and just walked. A slight limp making the walk more difficult than he planned, but he didn't go back for his cane. He wasn't even sure where it was. There was no point. Just like he knew there was no real point to looking back at the past. Logically he knew that, but somewhere amongst the logic and emotions he got all screwed up. Everything was a mess and he didn't have the faintest idea how to fix it.
Pausing at the archery and shooting range, he stepped toward it. Staring down at the bench for a good long while before frustration settled in. He didn't want to sit. He didn't want to take a breather. He wanted things t be as they once were but he didn't know how to reset them. He kicked it over and glared at the rest of the range as though it were to blame.