IC Inbox (v1.0)

[jumpthegun]

You've reached Dr. John Watson. Please leave a message.

Comments

[devoutish]

Six continents Watson.

[He chuckles again, and closes his eyes.]

[jumpthegun]

All the mystique of a soldier, all the practical skills of a surgeon.

[It makes up for his height, or so he tells himself.]

Hit a bit of dry spell about two and half years ago, though, if that makes it easier on you, mate.

[He's only teasing.]

[devoutish]

Oh-- no need to worry about me.

[He pauses for another breather.]

I don't get many of those. Only when I'm holidaying in Alaska.

[jumpthegun]

Here's a show-off, then. [He clicks his tongue in mock-indignation.] One I hear should be getting married here soon enough.

[Look, he overhears things. It's enough to tease the other man with.]

[devoutish]

That is what happens when a man and a woman travel in the same group, yeah? Instant matrimony.

[jumpthegun]

How could I have forgotten!? Fiona must be married half a dozen times over now.

[devoutish]

Now, don't tease Emily too badly. She's here in the room.

[jumpthegun]

[The reminder that there's a little girl in the room watching Alfie slowly bleed out and die by degrees sobers John quite a bit, even if that hadn't been Alfie's intention.]

Mm...

[His voice is softer.]

If you need to, you can take a few more of those Vicodin, y'know? Sleep out the rest of this, get a jump start on those dreams.

[devoutish]

Mm.

[Royce had suggested ending it early too, but Alfie gives the same answer here.]

No. I might not wake up. There's a good chance of it, yeah? I'd rather live as long as I can, even if it's here.

[Even if it's in horrible pain.]

[jumpthegun]

[There's a lump that forms in John's throat, and he has to swallow a few times to clear it. How did he get this attached? Of course, it had barely taken a week for Sherlock, and he's known Alfie longer, but Sherlock... bloody hell. Alfie is the man who held a scalpel to his neck, the scalpel he's carrying now.]

Okay. Yeah. There's still a chance, though. You're not getting rid of all of us that easy, mate.

[devoutish]

I'd like to dream of Camden. Those docks where my warehouse is; where you took your woman.

[Did he say that already? He can't remember.]

The bakery-- we really did bake bread sometimes, you know. It wasn't just a cover.

[jumpthegun]

[He'd mentioned, but that's fine. John's chest tightens, and so does his voice.]

What was your favorite type, then? Me, I love a good sourdough.

[devoutish]

Sourdough... mm, yeah, I like a good sourdough. A good rye. Rye's my favorite. Warm and fresh from the oven.

[jumpthegun]

We'll get you some when you get back, too, yeah? I've been meaning to see what's downtown. Good place to resupply for runs if the weather's good.

[There's a catch in his throat, and John falls silent for a moment, forcing down the emotion.]

I heard there's chocolate ice cream, too. Promised that to Ecks a while ago.

[devoutish]

You lot and your ice cream, in this fucking weather. I'll take the bread.

[jumpthegun]

It's dessert and she's never had it before. Can you blame her wanting to try? I think it's cute.

[devoutish]

Give her something warm. Another pie. Or was it cake?

[He wouldn't turn down either.]

Give her an apple cake.

[jumpthegun]

I'll see what they have at the grocery. Maybe apple turnovers. Those'd be nice.

[devoutish]

Apple turnovers with cinnamon and warm whipped cream.

[jumpthegun]

Mug of hot chocolate wouldn't go amiss, either. D'you have that back in your day?

[devoutish]

Yeah. Haven't had it much. I drink tea, coffee.

[jumpthegun]

I'd die for a cuppa. Nice earl grey. Not actually die. You'll be taking care of that for the both of us. They'd best put a few teabags in your pack for the trouble.

[He really is not going to be able to handle this if he doesn't fall back on some gallows humor.]

[devoutish]

They gave Ecks pie; did you see that? Two of the lads got cake, too.

[jumpthegun]

[He doesn't have the heart to tell Alfie they've already talked a little about Ecks getting a pie.]

I did. Lucky gits. Listen, Alfie... it sounds like you're having a little trouble catching your breath. Why don't you take a break? We can talk a little later, right?

[Maybe, maybe not. His heart is breaking just a bit at the moment, though.]

[devoutish]

I think I do need to close my eyes for a bit, yeah. But I'm not dead yet, am I.

[Still, he can feel himself fading, and the haziness is getting worse and worse.]

Later. Talk later.