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

[formersurgeon]

"You can do this."

She meets his eyes, her own glassy with pain. He's doubting himself, and he can't. He's got to see that his self doubt isn't helping.

She drops her gaze back to the wound. Blood is still seeping from it, and the longer he takes, the more the blood will obscure.

"It will be fine."

[i_favour_you]

He starts the next stitch. HIs heart is racing, and his hands are shaking, but he wills them both to be calm. For Watson's sake.

"How could you possibly have wanted to do this for a living?"

[formersurgeon]

She watches, watches the needle go into her skin, out the other side. Watches the thread pull through.

And feels every bit of it, the pain singing along her nerves.

Slow breath in. Hold. Slow breath out. Distance. The pain is a thing, separate unto itself. Not her. Not her.

"It's a challenge. Fighting injury and death. Putting people back together."

[i_favour_you]

"I can see the appeal," he admits. "I simply prefer my own challenges."

Even this was too much. No, no. If he's honest, he loves the challenge, loves the running, loves breaking the law with Watson. But he also hates what it does to her. She is far more important than his challenge.

[formersurgeon]

She nods, slow, so she doesn't tremble.

"It's not just the puzzle," she says. Her voice is a bit more faint now, almost as if it's slowly becoming transparent. "It's the people."

She doesn't explain, her thought process starting to crumble. She knows he understands, though.

[i_favour_you]

"Of course," he says. "You save them, make a difference."

He ties off another stitch. He pauses before beginning the next.

"Are you sure you won't have that alcohol, Watson?"

[formersurgeon]

She shakes her head, again slowly.

"I'm fine. Finish it."

Things are fading, the lines going soft, and she knows it's her body blurring the edges of her senses to soften the pain. She can make it, she tells herself, insists sternly to her body. She can stay awake and upright until he's finished and the pain lessens.

[i_favour_you]

She's going into shock. He needs to be more quick about it, to stop the bleeding and get her juice and protein. He focuses, moving quickly and silently at first before he speaks again.

"If he'd killed you, I'd---"

He'd have never forgiven himself. More than that, he wouldn't have had to. His life would have become finding the man and everyone involved with them, give them more retribution than he'd already planned.

[formersurgeon]

She moves her hand to his leg again.

"I know," she says softly. "But he didn't."

[i_favour_you]

"This time," he says. He knots another stitch. "We shouldn't risk this again, we should get you somewhere safe."

[formersurgeon]

"Sherlock..."

She takes a breath, summons the last of her strength, closes her eyes.

"I won't be safe. And I'm not leaving you. You need me. Now, finish stitching so I can pass out."

[i_favour_you]

"Only a few more," he promises. He knots another stitch and moves to the last one. He feels as though his stitches are sloppy, that he's not fixing her correctly. He doesn't fix her, she fixes him. She must know this.

Last stitch knotted, he wipes the blood off of her arm and moves to put a square of gauze over the wound.

[formersurgeon]

She waits until the gauze is secure, then carefully lowers herself to the bed, lying on her good shoulder, without bothering to move her legs up from off the side of the bed. She's shivering slightly, but doesn't notice as her senses grey out.

[i_favour_you]

He reaches out to help guide her down to the bed, and then reaches over to lift up her legs. She shivers, and he pulls the blanket over her. She will be fine, he tries to tell himself. She will be fine.

He goes to the door, reaching for some of the cash as he does so. Juice. Water. Something from the vending machine.

[formersurgeon]

She's vaguely aware of him leaving, and there's a glimmer of concern. Not for herself, because she'll be fine. Not because she thinks he'll leave her, because she knows he won't. She's worried for him going out alone.

But she has to trust he'll be okay. She can't do anything else.

[i_favour_you]

He doesn't even think about leaving. He has his destination, and he goes to it. The only stray thought is that of finding a street corner, of finding someone who might give him some much-needed diversion. Something to take the guilt away.

The feeling is far from fleeting, but he rejects it, shoveling bills into the machine and getting out juice, water, and crisps. He returns to the room with the snacks and unscrews the bottle of orange juice.

"Watson," he says, kneeling next to the bed. "Drink this."

[formersurgeon]

It takes her a moment, but she opens her eyes, and slowly struggles to half sit against the headboard before reaching for the juice with her good hand.

[i_favour_you]

"Might want to take off your shirt as well," he says. After a beat, he adds. "To clean you up."

[formersurgeon]

She can't keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

"Right. Just for that." She hands the juice back to him. "You're going to need to help me with the shirt."

[i_favour_you]

"You're injured and vulnerable," he says. "I wouldn't dream of taking advantage. Dream of it, maybe, but what occurs in my own head after sleeping is not something I can control."

He takes the juice, setting it aside before moving to her side. He picks up the scissors.

"Don't want you to pull a stitch."

[formersurgeon]

She gives a quiet laugh, leaning back wearily against the headboard.

"Too bad. Because that's really kinky."

[i_favour_you]

"Having you actually injure yourself is a hard limit of mine," he says with a small smile. He raises the scissors to her shirt and begins cutting up the sleeve, sliding the metal along her skin and shearing carefully.

"Besides, I usually prefer to be the one injured."

[formersurgeon]

"Well, next time you can be the one that gets shot."

She opens her eyes. Once the scissors move on from her good arm, she reaches out to touch his cheek.

"Thank you."

[i_favour_you]

He looks up from his work as her hand touches his face. Where the last time they touched intimately, he felt sexy and in control, right now he feels lost. He's putting her in danger, he can't lose her, he loves her, he can't---

He reaches up his other hand to touch her wrist, to keep her hand on his cheek.

"I'm sorry I can't fix you properly," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

[formersurgeon]

"You did fine."

He touches her wrist, keeps her hand at his face, and she smiles, faint and sad. Gently she smooths her thumb over his cheek.

"I know you think this is your fault. It's not."