damnmyleg: (pic#)
Dr. John Watson ([personal profile] damnmyleg) wrote in [community profile] crypt 2011-12-28 08:00 am (UTC)

16.

[The jibes and insults he could forgive. The, quite honestly, annoying violin playing at 3 in the morning was not the worst thing he'd ever been kept up by. Constantly running after him apologize for him was no trial either.

But finding fingers in the biscuits. Really. Fucking really? He just wanted some food. He was tired, hungry and his shoulder was acting up again with the rain. (What kind of medical science justified weather affecting healed injuries?) All he wanted was a biscuit and instead he grabbed onto some ladyfingers. Not the food. Actual. Ladies. Fingers. Well done. He made a noise of surprised disgust and fumbled for words to start where he couldn't find any.

This was absurd. He was a doctor, not a sidekick or a nanny or a consulting detective like Sherlock. The more he began to think about it the more he realized how awkward it was that he was here. It just...suddenly felt wrong. Sherlock was the one doing all the work here, the most John ever went after was the wrong hunch or amusing question. Sure he'd saved Sherlock's life one or two times but that was his luck wasn't it? Sherlock always had someone to save him. John just ...didn't know if that person was supposed to be him suddenly.

God, he was tired. ]


I can't do this anymore.


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