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'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.