Dr. John H. Watson, M.D. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lightconductor) wrote2012-01-11 05:13 pm
lightconductor) wrote2012-01-11 05:13 pm
An Unexpected Vacation
Watson's brain hadn't quite caught up with the reality of his situation. That they were in danger, he understood. That Moriarty was behind it, he grasped easily. That it was necessary to flee the country, he could not argue with even if he wasn't happy about. And it was easy to understand why he had to take this convoluted route to the station, separate from Holmes, even if he didn't naturally fall into step with whatever Holmes's latest plans were.
But here he was, at the station in one piece, still with the feeling that he only knew half of what was going on, or even less than half, and there was no sign of Holmes. Their compartment was occupied, too, by some Italian priest who seemed to speak little English, if any at all, and could not be made to understand he was in the wrong compartment.
Where was Holmes? Watson was beginning to feel more than a little desperate. Had something happened? Was this part of their escape plan? Had there been a last minute change? Ought Watson to get off the train and see if he could, somehow, manage to track him down? Should he stay on the train and wait to see if Holmes rejoined him later on?
He had no idea, but his heart was pounding away in his throat.
The train was pulling out of the station, then, and Watson was craning his head, searching for sign of Holmes, and seeing nothing. He hardly looked at the priest across from him, clutching at the sides of the window in his anxiety.
But here he was, at the station in one piece, still with the feeling that he only knew half of what was going on, or even less than half, and there was no sign of Holmes. Their compartment was occupied, too, by some Italian priest who seemed to speak little English, if any at all, and could not be made to understand he was in the wrong compartment.
Where was Holmes? Watson was beginning to feel more than a little desperate. Had something happened? Was this part of their escape plan? Had there been a last minute change? Ought Watson to get off the train and see if he could, somehow, manage to track him down? Should he stay on the train and wait to see if Holmes rejoined him later on?
He had no idea, but his heart was pounding away in his throat.
The train was pulling out of the station, then, and Watson was craning his head, searching for sign of Holmes, and seeing nothing. He hardly looked at the priest across from him, clutching at the sides of the window in his anxiety.
no subject
He picked up his coffee cup, and had a sip, deliberately slow while he tried to calm himself of his own righteous fury. His look across the table was one of challenge, daring Holmes to continue to protest, daring him to offer any further objection.
"We will be far safer together than separated," he said, with all the finality he could summon.
no subject
He lights another cigarette and forces himself to relax, but the tension in his shoulders won't dissipate.
"We'll leave this afternoon."
no subject
There could have easily been an edge to that question, but his voice lacked it entirely, merely being faintly wry and resigned. He sighed, exhaling some of his anger. He had a fierce temper, true, but it was as quick to fade as it was to flash.
"Incidentally, I shall never forgive you if you attempt to give me the slip and carry on alone."
no subject
He needs silence; he needs to get a better picture of the situation they're in, of how they will travel together and remain safe, of how quickly Moriarty will be able to track them. He pushes his chair back and closes his eyes, shutting Watson out entirely.