AU

[i_favour_you]

Follows this.

It wasn't until he found the beach that he realized they had made it to Cape May. Of all of New Jersey, this was possibly his least favorite place. It was so nice here. Cosy shops, happy people, and homes that cost far too much money.

Also, art supply stores. Sherlock purchases the needle, thread, alcohol, and some glue. Can't look too obvious, even with the blood under his fingernails and the tears in his tee-shirt. Not long after, he parks the stolen car in front of a chain hotel and goes in as calmly as possible to book them a room. His body is vibrating with panic. He can't remain this calm for much longer. Watson is bleeding. She's injured. He has to smile and wait in line and be bloody calm.

He pulls a coat out of the bag of clothes to put over Watson's shoulders once he gets back to the car.

"There's a vending machine and room service," he tells her. "We can get you orange juice and water for the blood loss."

Comments

[i_favour_you]

His hand moves down to her thigh, tracing up the warm skin there.

"We could run together," he says, moving to press his lips against her jaw. "Until they give up."

[formersurgeon]

She sighs, shivering slightly at the touch of his fingers along her thigh, and caresses his side.

"Do you want to run?"

She's not sure they will give up. That they won't have the means and determination to run them to ground. They've been running so long already, and they've been one step behind, the whole way. Someday Joan and Sherlock would slip up, be unlucky.

[i_favour_you]

"No," he admits, moving his mouth to her throat. "But I don't want you to die."

Gregson is still alive. Ms. Hudson is still alive. If they run, perhaps he can save Watson, too.

He moves to lean over her, to look down at her. "I'm going to get you killed, Watson."

[formersurgeon]

She gazes up a him, eyes determined and unafraid.

"I have no intention of dying. And I have no intention of leaving you. If you want to run, we run together. But I think we should finish this."

[i_favour_you]

"If Bell were still here to help protect Gregson, I'd suggest we run," he says. "But you're right. If we don't finish this, we'll stay running."

[formersurgeon]

"Then we'll finish it together."

She slips her hand beneath his shirt, and caresses the bare skin of his side with her fingertips.

[i_favour_you]

He lets out a quiet sigh at her cool fingers against his skin. They should leave. He shouldn't stay here, letting her run her hands over his skin and telling her that he wants her.

Then again, he rarely does what he should.

"I want you."

[formersurgeon]

"Yes."

Not the smartest thing, perhaps. But they've been yearning toward each other all this time, returning to touching and kissing every time they get the opportunity. She wants this, so badly.

"I want you."

[i_favour_you]

Apart from a guarantee of her safety and the promise of an old age, there's very little Watson could say right now that he'd want to hear more than that. He moves back to peel off his shirt again before moving forward to kiss her.

[formersurgeon]

She watches him take off his shirt, how his muscles flex in the action, and she reaches out to touch his chest. He's beautiful.

He kisses her, and she returns the kiss, runs her fingertips up and down his back, then curls her fingers to draw her nails along his skin.

[i_favour_you]

He makes a small keening noise as he kisses her. The sharpness of her nails versus the softness of her mouth is incredibly arousing. If only he could shut off the part of his brain that reminds him over and over that wanting her is dangerous. Loving her.

"How's the arm?" he murmurs, moving back enough to try to take off her shirt.

[formersurgeon]

She moves to help him, wincing as she moves the arm in question.

"It hurts, but not as much. Still stiff, though."

Once they manage to take the shirt off, she glances at the gauze, sees the thin line of blood that has seeped through. Not terrible.

[i_favour_you]

He traces his hand above the gauze and leans down to press his lips gently to where the blood marks it. He'll protect her, he decides. Always protect her.

"They'll pay for it," he says.

[formersurgeon]

"They've done worse," she says quietly. "I'll be fine, Sherlock. I promise."

She leans in to press her lips to his forehead.

[i_favour_you]

"They'll pay for that, too."

She kisses his forehead, and he's shaken by how intimate this is. They're both half-naked, holding each other, and talking. Even with Irene, sex came first, and then talking. Never like this.

[formersurgeon]

"Are you okay?"

Even as the words leave her lips, she sighs inwardly, and closes her eyes.

"You don't like that question. You've never liked that question. But I'm not the only one they've hurt. And we need to take care of ourselves, and each other, if we're going to survive this."

[i_favour_you]

"My dear Watson," he says, reaching up to cup her face. "Whenever am I not?"

He isn't, now. Not really. Right now, he's aching. Aching and wanting at the same time.

[formersurgeon]

She cups his face as well. She knows the answer to that question. And knows that it's not what he wants to hear. He's not okay, and she needs to watch him. Needs to make sure this doesn't destroy him.

She leans in, draws him closer, kisses him.

[i_favour_you]

She kisses him, and he relaxes into her. Leans his body against hers, just exists with this kiss, with their contact. There are condoms in the bag on the floor, and he's still got his trousers on, and there's just never enough time---but he'll worry about them later. This kiss is wonderful.

It's her, bringing him back. It's what she does.

[formersurgeon]

If they could be like this forever, just like this, just holding each other, kissing each other, being with each other...

But they can't. Not now, not yet. They don't have time.

So she moves her hand from his face, runs it down his back, slips her fingertips beneath the waistband of his trousers.

[i_favour_you]

"Watson," he breathes against her lips as her fingertips go beneath his trousers. Of course, it's probably a bit strange to call someone by their surname in a sexual situation, so he looks down at her and tries again.

"Joan," he says.

[formersurgeon]

Her hand pauses, and she looks up at him, meets his eyes.

"No. You were right the first time."

She's been Watson to him through everything, through the struggles they've had and the victories, through every moment as they've become friends, then more. She's Watson. His Watson.

[i_favour_you]

He smiles, slowly but genuinely.

"Watson," he says. His dear Watson.

He leans down to kiss her again, and he puts an arm around her to turn them both over, to have her on top of him. In control.

[formersurgeon]

Her laugh is short, and a little strained by the flare of pain in her arm. It's not too bad, though. She kisses him, then pushes herself up to look down at him.

"Sherlock," she whispers.

She moves her hurt arm deliberately, and uses that hand to caress his cheek. Then she kisses his lips, then his chin, then his neck, working her way down.

[i_favour_you]

He lets out a little moan as her mouth touches a sensitive place on his neck, and then down his chest. There are fulfilled fantasies and then there are fulfilled fantasies, and then there's this.