IC Inbox (v1.0)

[jumpthegun]

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

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[devoutish]

Mm, yeah.

[He understands.]

You're traveling with how many people? That's a lot to feel, innit.

[jumpthegun]

Three others. Amber's decided she's off on her own for something. Not sure what. Mary and Sherlock are heading to where I'm holed up, bringing my... things.

[Clothes and things. Clothes are things, and that sounds much less terrible.]

[devoutish]

You went off on your own, then. Or did you die?

[He could have died and come back before the obituaries have gone up - or, maybe, the obituaries have gone up. Alfie hasn't checked in a while.]

[jumpthegun]

I was a great bloody dog who wanted to rip people apart for their light and their eyes. Of course I went off on my own. Couldn't carry anything, but I found a tablet in the house last night.

[Hence why he'd been able to answer Alfie's call.]

[devoutish]

How many lights did you collect?

[jumpthegun]

[There's a part of him that wants to dissociate what he did as the hound from who he is, but John's aware that's probably an unhealthy coping mechanism... not that wracking himself with guilt is much better. It has the benefit of not making him feel like a complete ass who won't take responsibility for his actions, though.]

Two. Amber and Alphonse.

[devoutish]

[Because he's sure that Watson is beating himself up about this, and because Watson knows that Alfie's was also taken, he says:]

Right. Well, I'm feeling normal myself. Nothing missing.

[jumpthegun]

I reckon we'll see what comes of it later. Like the eyes.

[The eyes where the choice he made meant he wanted to murder people.]

[devoutish]

Yeah.

Girls aren't back.

[jumpthegun]

[A lot of people aren't back... John doesn't say.]

It can take a couple of weeks. You remember that one bloke who came back after nearly two months?

[Hope is the last thing they have to hang their hats on.]

[devoutish]

Don't.

[He what Watson is trying to do, and he knows there's still a chance one or both of them could come back. But still, the words are like a knife twisting in his heart.]

[jumpthegun]

[John is silent for a moment.]

What would you like me to say? I'm just sorry they're gone, Alfie.

[devoutish]

I dunno. I can't tell you why I brought it up in the first place.

[jumpthegun]

You miss them. Is there any other reason? [He misses them and he's losing hope, which is why John tried to provide some.]

[devoutish]

Mm.

[No, there's not really any other reason.]

It's worse at night; worse when we settle in for the evening.

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. [John knows how that goes.] There's more time to think when you aren't walking. Might help if you can find something to occupy yourself with at night. Even just playing games with Royce.

[Make certain you don't retreat into your own thoughts.

You'd always talk to me more, then, Mary whispers in his mind. He catches a glimpse of her at the corner of his eye and turns his head, but no one is there. John blinks a few times, trying to clear his thoughts.]

Or exercising or something? Just force yourself to stay busy. Won't solve the problem, but it'll... it helps put it off.

[Which probably says a lot about John's coping mechanisms.]

[devoutish]

Exercise, no. No, when I've got the time to rest, I should take it. I'm always dead fucking tired at the end of the day.

I don't need you to solve this for me. Can't be done.

[jumpthegun]

[And they're back to this, John wanting to fix it, and Alfie telling him he can't. The doctor grits his teeth.]

They're just suggestions to try to help. I know we can't solve it. We can make it more bearable, though.

[devoutish]

Mm.

I won't talk to you about these things in the future, if you'd prefer that.

[jumpthegun]

That's not what I'd prefer. I just... I want to be able to do something for you when you're feeling this way. I want to listen.

[And he wants to solve it. Is that so wrong?]

[devoutish]

Then listen. I haven't asked you for anything more.

[jumpthegun]

Talk, then.

[John is biting tongue and schooling his tone not to be snappish. Alfie really does drive him up the wall sometimes. Even Sherlock isn't this reticent when it comes to having John try to help him or play the knight in shining armor.]

[devoutish]

I did. Not much more to say that I haven't already said.

[jumpthegun]

[He runs a hand over his face.]

Okay. Keep safe, then, and try to keep your mind on other things. Let me know if anything changes for you.

[Since Alfie lost his light.]

[devoutish]

Yeah. All right.

[He goes quiet. He sets his tablet aside. He shuffles around the room... and then he comes back.]

We'd tell Emily stories at night. Big fuck-off collection of children's books, we've got here. Eight, nine, ten of 'em; Royce might have more.

How old's your little one, again? Just a few months, was it?