InsaneJournal

Who: John Watson and Rose Tyler
What: Confessions of the Sherlock Holmes variety
When: Thursday evening
Where: 221B Baker Street-Complex Edition
Warnings: Language, probably, and maybe some disturbing imagery



It was a little strange for her to be leaving the room she'd been living in since John had finally relented to giving up Sherlock's old room. Granted she didn't always sleep there. She still had her room on the TARDIS, she stayed over with Guy many nights, and there were even nights where she just needed to be alone and she slept in her old flat. But that's where she was staying now because now, someone needed that room in John's flat far more than she did. As she tucked the blankets around Bo, she found herself wondering more and more about the little girl's life before arriving in Lawrence. The fact that Rose typically hid her pain pretty damn well and yet the child had still picked up on it said a lot. And the dreams... Always the dreams.

She came out of the bedroom and into the living room, off into the kitchen. The pair had fallen into companionable silence long ago, habit of living together and knowing each other so well. So she knew how to approach him with most things. Almost all things.

Almost.

But this? This was complicated. This was difficult and would take careful edging. Because she knew John loved his friend, had missed him horribly. But she also knew that if the Seal dropped her version of the Doctor on her doorstep yet again, she'd be reluctant to get too close. There were only so many times you could lose someone before it hurt too much to love again. Particularly when it was the same someone. And both Rose and John knew what that was like.

Without even asking, she poured herself a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and then carried it over to John's cup, topping his off without so much as a word. When she returned the kettle, she took her usual spot beside him on the couch, the spot that lately had been filled in the middle by a little girl with lots of questions. Now it was empty, except occasionally Toby's head sitting there, waiting for attention. "She's asleep," she announced needlessly. Which wasn't what she'd come over to talk to him about. But it was easier. And she needed more time. Desperately.