"Wise choice." He didn't mean to be short with Armand, but it was not only him he was cross with. John was tired. The fact that everyone kept on about it didn't help. Friends were concerned and he supposed it was only natural, but he was tired of being the subject of concern yet again. Tired of hearing that name Moriarty return over and over into his life when it ought to be laid to rest with the mans death. "This goes beyond protection. I've to look over my shoulder constantly for a damn ghost that ought to have been laid to rest thrice over. Do you have any idea how tired I am of people getting caught up in this stupid game? Of losing friends? I won't have it anymore." He snapped finally at the wrong man.
It wasn't Armands fault he was under so much stress. Not even close, but the stress was enough to rattle even his nerves and he hated it. Moriarty was playing him and winning again. John couldn't see anything but red. He folded his arms uncomfortably as he fell back into silent step beside him for a time.
"All of us should be armed. His threats are not only threats he will make good. He'll get what he wants, he always does. Be armed, be prepared. Don't try to befriend me. It's your best shot at a better life really." John had been hopeful once, that this place would mean a new beginning for him. A chance at a new life, but every damn time he tried Moriarty got in his way. His past followed him and never once did Sherlock.
"He's taken everything from me at one time or another." He looked back over his shoulder, the graveyard nearly out of sight now.