"It isn't that. I know you are human, Holmes. I've tried to get that part out so often I doubted it a few times, but..."
She keeps her eyes focused on a point. Her hands clasped together. She knows about failure. She knows about disappointment. She'd seen it in her parents eyes the day she told them she was quitting. Better stop now then live the rest of her life as a shunned and disgraced surgeon, unable to get a job in what she spent her life training to do in any decent hospital. Forced to move from home and find some low rate position in a hospital use to malpractice issues.
"I'm disappointed in how things have turned out." she worded carefully. Slowly. "Not in you. Maybe not even in me. Just-- the situation."
Every part of it. Down to the day she put on her surgical mask and walked into that room to the day he had first put a needle in his arm. What a pair they made. But in the end what frightened her the most...what made this all so horrifying was the idea that she knew he didn't want her to leave and if they knew of his relapse that was exactly what would happen. He'd be off back in the system for god knows how long away from what kept him sane and she would end her yet another career on another failure.
And she-- cared. How could she not? He was a child at best sometimes and maybe that was what made it so hard. He needed someone. He needed a friend. And she wanted to make sure he had one in Alberto or someone before she was gone.
"You are not a dead person, Sherlock." she sighed faintly, "Just- a troubled one. A troubling one. And that is very.. human."
no subject
She keeps her eyes focused on a point. Her hands clasped together. She knows about failure. She knows about disappointment. She'd seen it in her parents eyes the day she told them she was quitting. Better stop now then live the rest of her life as a shunned and disgraced surgeon, unable to get a job in what she spent her life training to do in any decent hospital. Forced to move from home and find some low rate position in a hospital use to malpractice issues.
"I'm disappointed in how things have turned out." she worded carefully. Slowly. "Not in you. Maybe not even in me. Just-- the situation."
Every part of it. Down to the day she put on her surgical mask and walked into that room to the day he had first put a needle in his arm. What a pair they made. But in the end what frightened her the most...what made this all so horrifying was the idea that she knew he didn't want her to leave and if they knew of his relapse that was exactly what would happen. He'd be off back in the system for god knows how long away from what kept him sane and she would end her yet another career on another failure.
And she-- cared. How could she not? He was a child at best sometimes and maybe that was what made it so hard. He needed someone. He needed a friend. And she wanted to make sure he had one in Alberto or someone before she was gone.
"You are not a dead person, Sherlock." she sighed faintly, "Just- a troubled one. A troubling one. And that is very.. human."