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]

"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.

[i_favour_you]

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?"

[formersurgeon]

"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."

[i_favour_you]

Sherlock's expression stays grim, but his voice gets harder.

"This is exactly what you sound like to me when you tell me you'll stay," he says. "Putting yourself right as the target."

[formersurgeon]

She's silent for a minute. She understands, of course, even if she might not agree with his conclusions.

"I know," she says. "You're afraid for me. It's even worse in my case, because I don't think they'll actually shoot you. It's pretty clear they don't want you dead, they want you alive and suffering. But I wouldn't stop you, if that's what you want to do. What you need to do. I wouldn't like it, but I also understand that you can't hide forever. And doing something is better than doing nothing."

They've reached the highway, and she pulls onto it. The sun isn't up yet, but the sky is light. They're still the only car on the road.

"Another reason I'm different is that the target won't be off of me just because I leave your side."

[i_favour_you]

"Leaving you with my brother would be essentially removing you from the game board," Sherlock says. "You will be utterly safe."

He doesn't like it. He doesn't want to leave her with his extremely dull older brother, but he has to keep her safe.

"If you could understand---why I can't lose you..."

[formersurgeon]

She tightens her hands on the wheel again.

"Tell me. Tell me why."

[i_favour_you]

He shakes his head, turning his gaze away.

"Does it need saying?"

[formersurgeon]

"You say I don't understand. So apparently it does."

[i_favour_you]

He takes a breath. "If you die, Watson, there will be no one left. He'll have killed everyone I care about. Starting with Irene, and she wasn't part of anything. And you---"

He looks back at her. "I can't live with that."

[formersurgeon]

She looks at him, then turns back to face the road.

"And when we get to London, you'll hand me over to your brother. Have him detain me if necessary."

[i_favour_you]

Sherlock feels something cold in his chest. His voice is hard, set.

"Yes."

[formersurgeon]

She nods.

"I'm not going with you to London."

[i_favour_you]

"Yes, you are," he says. "Because that's where we're going and it's the only way to keep you safe."

[formersurgeon]

"Really."

She pulls over, turns off the car, and turns to him. She's furious, but keeping it at a tight simmer.

"I will not be a prisoner to your fears. If you think that you can tuck me away and keep me safe and somehow you'll still have me? Then you don't want me. You want the idea of me. You don't want a partner. You want a mascot. And I will not be your mascot."

[i_favour_you]

"No, Watson, I don't want you to die," he says, voice still calm. "Like Gregson, like Bell or Alfredo. You can't die, too."

[formersurgeon]

"You'll make me a prisoner, take away my agency, just so you can congratulate yourself on keeping me safe. I'm not your prop, Sherlock."

She hurts. She hurts so badly. But she knows what has to be done.

"Get out of the car."

[i_favour_you]

He doesn't hesitate, he pulls open the door and gets out. Without a word, he starts walking towards the boardwalk.

Temper tantrum? Yes. Does he care? No.

[formersurgeon]

She turns on the car and drives away. She wants to fall apart, wants to cry, but she won't. She won't let herself. He's probably going to find some drug dealer and buy heroin and get high, and blame her. Hate her for leaving him. And that's too bad. Because she's nobody's object. Nobody's good luck charm, to be locked away so there's no chance of being broken.

Not even for Sherlock.