[ The feathered appendages twitch a tighter embrace over John's shoulders, some attempt to hold on even as he feels his heart begin to sink. And there's a clawing of anger, too, the churn of bile and a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. It's something close to reliving the event over again, the tremor of the voice over the phone and the dark pedaling of limbs, sharing their helplessness with the way John had held his mobile at the time.
John does look this time, eyes drawing over naturally as Sherlock pushes to a stand. He watches the long line of the other's back and the tremor of the jacket. His mouth is exceedingly dry and Sherlock is saying he's not dead, but it's better if he is. Sherlock is saying he's not dead, but he is.
He's saying the world is better not to have him in it, at least, that's what John hears.
The thought snaps John to his feet, more power than he thought he'd have after a night of no sleep. It'd been bad enough trying to defend Sherlock against the press and his peers, but to have the man depreciate himself (and by extension, John) and suggest he didn't matter enough to anyone to be more than a gossip story or some slab of dark marble beneath a tree...
John shoves him, both hands hard against the shoulder blades, a motion that's both reproachful and challenging. ]
You stupid bastard. Are you having me on? When the hell did you start giving a damn about offending anyone?
no subject
John does look this time, eyes drawing over naturally as Sherlock pushes to a stand. He watches the long line of the other's back and the tremor of the jacket. His mouth is exceedingly dry and Sherlock is saying he's not dead, but it's better if he is. Sherlock is saying he's not dead, but he is.
He's saying the world is better not to have him in it, at least, that's what John hears.
The thought snaps John to his feet, more power than he thought he'd have after a night of no sleep. It'd been bad enough trying to defend Sherlock against the press and his peers, but to have the man depreciate himself (and by extension, John) and suggest he didn't matter enough to anyone to be more than a gossip story or some slab of dark marble beneath a tree...
John shoves him, both hands hard against the shoulder blades, a motion that's both reproachful and challenging. ]
You stupid bastard. Are you having me on? When the hell did you start giving a damn about offending anyone?