i_favour_you

Entry tags:

AU

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."

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"That they've been compromised," she answers. Her voice is soft, and anyone else wouldn't be able to tell how much she hurts right now. But Sherlock probably has a pretty good idea. "That the people coming after us have police resources, have probably infiltrated the department. I didn't..." She stops, lips pressed, and breathes for a moment. "I wasn't calling to warn him."

It had already happened by the time they knew.

"No, I know you weren't," Sherlock says. "I'd already tried texting him. I thought---"

He'd hoped that he was somewhere with his family. It would make sense, considering his closeness to Bell. He hadn't thought that they'd have followed him on holiday.

He takes a deep breath.

"Watson," he says. "I'm going to need you to pull over and make another phone call."

She checks the rearview mirror again to make sure they're still alone on the road. They appear to be. She pulls onto the side of the road, shuts off the car, and turns off all the lights so that they will be harder to spot in the dark.

"Who do you need me to call?"

He takes a breath.

"Your mother."

She stares at him in the dark for a moment.

"You want me to make sure they're not targeting my family."

He swallows back a sharp retort and offers her the phone.

"There isn't anyone else. Ms. Hudson hasn't been responding to texts, either."

She accepts the phone, and again sits and stares for a long moment. She doesn't want to know. If her mother is fine, great, but if not...if not there's nothing she can do about it. So what was the use?

She swallows though, and dials the number.

Sherlock can see the hesitation, and he knows she's in pain after Gregson. After Gregson, Bell, Alfredo---

He's always found hope to be a useless thing. But right now he hopes that Watson's family are all right.

Her mother's cell rings. And rings. And rings. With each ring, a cold fear draws tighter around Joan's heart. She had accepted the danger that comes with this job for herself, but her mother didn't choose this. If they've killed her...

And then she answers.

Joan draws a breath.

"Mom. It's me."

Sherlock straightens, alert.

"Get her to London. Holiday. Immediately."

"Yeah...yes mom, I'm...I know, I... no, I can't."

She glances at Sherlock.

"Mom, listen...no, you need to listen. Someone is attacking people that Sherlock and I know. You need to get somewhere safe. You and Oren. Sherlock has family in London. You'd be safe there."

"Inform her she won't be losing the funds, I'll have my father give them to her once we get to London."

She nods at Sherlock.

"No...yeah, Sherlock's here. He's fine, we're both fine, I just can't... yes. No, Sherlock's father has the money. He'll reimburse you. This is important, mom. We need to have you and Oren safe. Okay...yes, call this number once you have plans. Don't call it any other time, and don't give this number to anyone. Not even Oren."

She's alive. That's good. That's---it's something. Sherlock takes in a breath, trying to focus his mind on the next step. Getting Watson's mother somewhere safe.

He pulls out the final phone and punches in a number. His own voice is quiet, controlled.

"Hello, this is Sherlock Holmes, I need to speak with my brother."

Her mother is alive, and it's a relief. It's also a relief that it sounds like she's actually going to listen, actually going to get somewhere safe.

Joan says goodbye to her mom and hangs up. She turns to Sherlock, watching his outline in the dark.

"Watson's mother needs advanced protection out of New York," he says. "Detain her if you have to, I don't care. Just get her safely to London."

He is silent as he listens. "No. I'll get the tickets on my own. Watson herself is the bigger target."

He's silent again, and then he hangs up.

"Ready?" he asks her.

She's not ready, she wants a moment, right now, to fall apart, under the weight of pain and fear and relief. But she won't. She can't.

"Ready," she answers, and turns on the car, pulling back onto the dark road. After a moment, she speaks softly.

"Thank you."

He doesn't respond to the gratitude, he just looks out, away from her.

At least he can help save one person.

"We'll change cars once we get to Pennsylvania."

He never does respond well to gratitude. At least he didn't reject it outright.

They have a ways to go to get to Pennsylvania. The sky is starting to lighten, the eastern horizon slightly tinged with pink.

"I'm not going to stay with my mother," she says finally. "You know that, right?"

"She'll want you to," he says. "For your protection."

"Me staying with her will only put her in more danger. And I'm not going to hide. I'm going to help you find this guy. I'm going to help you bring him down."

She pauses for a moment, sliding a glance his way.

"You suggested yesterday that I take my family somewhere safe and stay with them. Which is why I suspect that it's not only my mother who will want me to stay for my own protection."

"Was that only yesterday?" he says, voice low.

It was. So much has happened in only a few weeks.

"Doesn't seem like it, does it?"

It feels like an eternity. All of this.

"I need to find this person, Sherlock. Alfredo, and Bell, and Gregson...they were my friends, too. You asked me not to stop you from getting revenge. I need to ask you the same."

He needs her, and she needs him, but she knows that couching it in terms of needing each other will only make Sherlock feel guilty for being the one putting and keeping her in danger.

He turns to look at her again.

"I'm going to put myself in the spotlight, have all of their guns targeted on me, and see if they'll shoot," he says. "Sound all right to you?"

"No."

Honest. She doesn't want him hurt or killed, any more than he wants her hurt or killed.

"But I know why you're doing it. They haven't killed you, even though they could have. I imagine you want to know if they're willing to kill you at all."

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