Sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I was stuck between smashing two chapters together awkwardly and having a dwarf chapter, so I went with the lesser of two sins. Enjoy anyway!
"We really should eat," I said, sitting down in my armchair and stretching out my leg. You had bought two sandwiches from the Sub Shop downstairs and left them on the table beside my chair when we came inside. Neither of us had bothered to touch them. I had an excuse not to be hungry, but you didn't.
"It's only Thursday," You tsked. "I'm alright."
"You say that, but you bought two sandwiches without me asking you to." I motioned. "Sit down."
Sighing, you lowered yourself into your own chair. I could see the small hesitation in your fingertips as you reached for your sandwich. I ignored it for the time, but I looked twice when I noticed the dark hollow in your cheeks. Obviously you had been avoiding food again, to your own disadvantage. But I had only seen you eat the other night. How could you get so pale in that short amount of time?
I brought it up. "You look like a ghost."
"You're one to talk," You deflected, taking a bite. "I'm out of nicotine patches."
"No wonder you look so exhausted."
"Running around in Brixton takes its toll."
I nodded. That seemed to be an acceptable excuse. "What were you doing there, anyway? In Brixton?'
"The case. Well, technically it's a case."
"Were you with Lestrade?"
"No, on my own." You turned your shoulders toward the web. "Mycroft sent me Argall's file, and so I went to pay a visit to some of his old acquaintances. Lots of interviews."
"Argall, our burglar?"
"Yes."
"Ah. Anything useful?"
"A lot, actually." You stood up, stepping toward your web. "There wasn't much they could tell me about Argall's current activities, but I did get a very interesting picture of his ambitions. He has friends in high places: politicians, businessmen, ambassadors - wealthy men. Men of importance. He demands his pay high, so his overhead is definitely not short of funding."
As you spoke, you side-stepped along the wall, trailing your fingers along each of the pages. My eyes fell on your shoulders and your back. You were tense and guarded, your entire stature echoing with tension. I briefly wondered why - you had apologized, I had forgiven you, there wasn't anything left to say. But still your muscles were still tight as you stepped closer to the wall.
"In that way, then, while investigating Argall, we can catch just a glimpse of our mastermind's shadow," You contined. "The fact that he chose to bite down on you shows both sadism and intelligence. She has identified you as a pressure point of mine, which means that she has the ability to gather personal information through some source. She is in a position of management, but is also managed herself, by some kind of power. And of course we already know that she is a woman, and that her initials are EL."
"E, then... She's just after me to get you?"
"It's what I'm assuming. Unless you've been getting into some kind of business you haven't been telling me about." You grunted and put your head in your hands. "This needs to be on paper."
You turned back toward your desk, fishing for a pen, and leaped back to the web. As you wrote, your opposite hand shook.
The realization settled on me. Maybe what I thought was exhaustion only looked like exhaustion. My stomach coiled with dread.
"John?"
Your eyes were sharp and alert. You scanned my face. Looking for a problem.
My words formed as they came. "You shot up, didn't you."
You froze. Slowly, your lips pressed flat.
I reached out for my sandwich, trying to busy my hands. I couldn't make eye contact. "Last night or this morning?"
"...John, I..."
"Where'd you get the drugs? Do you have a stash?"
"No. No stash."
"Just that dose, then?"
"Yes."
"Alright." I set my sandwich in my lap, fiddling with a leaf of lettuce.
You cautiously approached, sliding back into your chair. "...You're not angry?"
"No." I let out a long exhale, looking up at you. My whole body felt cold. "You can do what you want. But don't make me a part of it, Sherlock."
Silence. I leaned forward onto my knees and ran my hands through my hair.
"What do you mean?" You asked.
My voice wavered. "I'm tired. I want to help you, but right now I can't. I can't do anything. I can't even be angry. I don't want to grapple with you over everything, and I don't want any more conflict. Not with you, not with Greg, not with the doctor. It hurts, and I want it to stop. I'm not angry, I'm not frustrated, and I'm not disappointed. I'm just... miserable. And I don't want to be miserable anymore."
A visible wave of guilt washed over you, starting in your eyes and washing down your shoulders, your hands, your legs. I could almost feel the pain on your face. It radiated so heavily off you, it filled my eyes with tears.
"I'm sorry," You whispered.
I leaned back in my chair, covering my face with my hand and trying to keep myself under control. I hated to cry, especially in front of you, but I could feel the sobs building in my chest. I heard you stand, and you gently pressed your lips to my forehead, brushing my hair back before walking off into the bedroom. When you came back, your coat and scarf had been replaced with your bow and instrument. You began a melody as you came from the kitchen. It was soft and gentle, romantic and slow. I recognized it easily. It was one of my favorites.
"Just relax for a little while, John," You said, and moved to your spot beside the window.
I nodded and closed my eyes, letting the music replace my thoughts.
I never even noticed when I fell asleep, or when you moved me into the bedroom. I could still hear the short spurts of violin, floating through the house as you thought, stopping abruptly as you jotted down notes or adjusted your web. It was a pleasant thing to wake up to, but when I tried to stretch, the dull pain in my leg distracted me. Every muscle from my knee to my hip seemed to throb with pain. I moaned, rubbing my thigh gently.
As I stirred, I briefly wondered what had woken me. Then I saw the blue light coming from the screen of my mobile phone. It vibrated, clamouring along the surface of the bed-table before I could catch it. I had gotten a text.
Hey, John, it's Anne. Is everything alright with S? - AW
I yawned and typed in a reply. Yes. He's calmed down. Apologized, too. - JW
Her reply came within a few seconds. Oh, good! :) I'm glad. Did you still want to get together to talk? - AW
It took me a moment to think about it. I had told you I would be more careful, but at the same time, after what you did, you deserved a little bit of disobedience. I knew you were wrong about her, anyway, it was just a matter of your trust. But I figured there was no harm done if you didn't hear of it. You would be gone the better part of tomorrow. I could get out and back without you realizing I had left. I started to text.
Sure. How does tomorrow sound? - JW
Tomorrow is perfect! How about you come to Camden? The café where I work is darling. - AW
Sounds good to me. Text me the address and I'll met you there. What time? - JW
About noon? Here's the address. - AW
Alright, noon. I'll see you then. - JW
Looking forward to it! :) - AW
I shut off my phone and set it back on the table. You continued to scratch away at your web, and I laid back down, watching the ceiling for a long time while I tried to block out the pain.
I bet they planned it all out, like the shows, went everywhere I review.
Next update Sunday