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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

i_favour_you

He shifts his own hips to accomodate her hands on his belt. The condoms are in the grocery bag on the floor, but he'll worry about them later. He'll worry about all of it when it becomes relevant. His hands need to focus on tracing over her body, over memorizing every last piece of her.

"It is entirely possible that I greatly underestimated the time I want to spend with you," he says. "12 hours will, most likely, not be enough."

From:

formersurgeon

She loves the feel of his hands on her, everywhere on her, and she makes a mental note that when she's better she's going to be the one examining him, touching him, kissing every inch of him.

"Really," she murmurs back, her hand now working on the button of his trousers. "Do you have a revised estimation?"

From:

i_favour_you

"Still working on specifics," he says. "But I know at least a very long weekend will be involved."

She only has the one hand, and he has very little patience. He moves one hand away from her to help with lowering his trousers.

"Possibly two."

From:

formersurgeon

"How about a week? I mean, 76 positions is just the positions, right? There's a lot more variables than just that."

His impatience amuses her, and she helps as much as she can to push down his trousers, then his boxers. She wants him naked, but she hardly has to tell him that.

From:

i_favour_you

"We'll make it a very long holiday," he says. "Test every individual variable.

He rolls to the side to kick his boxers away, and then rolls back towards her. He presses his mouth to her collarbone again, and then down her sternum, towards her belly.

His voice is serious again. "Please."

From:

formersurgeon

She moans again. She wants. Wants his mouth on every bit of her, his lips pressed to every inch of her skin.

"Yes," she whispers. "Sherlock, yes."

From:

i_favour_you

He presses his mouth to her left thigh, and moves to press his mouth to her clitoris when---

There's a sharp knock at the door. Sherlock jerks up, eyes going immediately towards the door.

"Who is it?" he calls, voice breathy.

"Police," comes the response.

From:

formersurgeon

She's biting her lip in anticipation when the knock sounds, and her eyes fly open when she hears the response.

SHIT.

They can't run. They're both naked, the cops are right at the door, and she's in no condition to outrun anyone. The only thing they can do it pray these are not the cops who are gunning for them.

"I should talk to them," she says quietly, struggling to push herself up. "Either they'll be more likely to trust me, or they'll just shoot me and get it over with."

From:

i_favour_you

Sherlock reaches out for her forearm, his eyes bright with panic. The idea of her being shot, after everything, it's too much. She's right, though. They're more likely to trust a woman.

He releases her arm and nods, getting to his feet. He grabs her his tee-shirt.

"All right," he says.

From:

formersurgeon

"I'll get it sweetie," she says out loud, loud enough for the men at the door to hear, then raises her voice still more. "Hold on a minute."

She manages to get to her feet. "Help me put this on," she whispers.

From:

i_favour_you

He takes the shirt and moves to slide it over her injured arm, before stretching it over the more flexible arm and her head. He's lucky his shoulders are much broader than hers. He grabs her discarded underwear and drops to his feet to slide them over her legs.

From:

formersurgeon

She helps him, steadying herself on his shoulder and lifting her feet one by one. Once her underwear are on, she leans down, tilts his chin up with her hand, and kisses him, brief, but firm. If it's the last, she wishes it could be longer.

From:

i_favour_you

He returns the kiss just as firmly. It's not going to be the last, he tells himself. He'll kill them before they hurt her.

He tugs on his jeans and moves back to the bed. By the rumpled bedsheets, it's fairly obvious what they've been doing. But by the cut-up bloodied shirt, they might assume something else. He knocks the shirt to the other side of the bed, as well as the alcohol and scissors.

From:

formersurgeon

She straightens, heads for the door, leaning against the wall but trying to sound well, perky even. "Sorry, sorry, had to put something on..."

She steadies herself at the door, fumbles the chain open, then unlocks and opens the door, just enough so they see her and not much of the room.

"Can I help you?"

From:

i_favour_you

There are two officers. Sherlock notes the cut of their trousers, the way their shoes are muddy, and the hats. Both worked about 5 hours so far, long shift but small town. Legitimate police. This is something routine. Perhaps. There's a buzz on the walkie, and Sherlock gets the impression it might not be.

"A stolen vehicle was found in the parking lot of this establishment," the officer says. "A potential hostage situation may have occurred."

From:

formersurgeon

She notices most of that as well, as well as the fact that their guns are still very much in their holsters. She relaxes just a little. She might actually survive this encounter.

"Oh my god," she says, looking concerned with a touch of shocked. "Are we in danger? Should we stay inside and keep the doors locked or something?"

From:

i_favour_you

It's everything in Sherlock not to burst into laughter at how she sounds.

"Is everything okay?" Sherlock asks from the bed, sounding like he'd only caught a snippet of the conversation.

One of the officers speaks to Watson. "No, but we'll be by in the morning, need to get a few statements." Her lack of attire clearly makes the officer uncomfortable.

From:

formersurgeon

"Hold on, sweetie," she says to Sherlock over her shoulder before turning back to the officers. She can't help but notice the officer's discomfort, and she mirrors it, tugging at the hem of the shirt a little to suggest that she wishes it covered more. Hoping her own discomfort coupled with his would encourage them to move on quicker.

"Yeah, sure, of course. We're glad to help in any way we can."

From:

i_favour_you

"We've got your information, Mrs. Morstan," the other officer says. "We'll be by early in the morning. Try not to head out before then."

The awkward officer moves to try to go to the next room, and Sherlock eyes the window cautiously. They'll be watching for who might try to leave earlier. Of course they will be. This is going to be significantly more difficult than he originally thought.

From:

formersurgeon

"Sure, no problem. Thanks."

She closes the door, turns the lock, replaces the chain. Then she leans her forehead against the door, closes her eyes, and does a slow count to five to make sure they've moved on.

From:

i_favour_you

He steps up behind her, putting a hand to her hip.

"You should get some sleep," he says. "We'll need to leave before they come back tomorrow."

From:

formersurgeon

She nods, steps back, and sags against him. She had to work hard to be on her feet and look normal for the cops, and now her legs are failing her.

From:

i_favour_you

He wraps an arm around her, relishing in the feel of her so close. Close, alive.

"My dear Watson," he murmurs. "Come back to bed."

She needs to sleep. He needs to plan.

From:

formersurgeon

"Yeah, just...you might have to help me a little here."

She holds onto him, forcing her legs to work as much as possible, to take them back to the bed.