He can feel the last stretch of nodding fall away. Typical for it to last so long, he took the first hit late into the night and it was almost 2PM now. Now comes the slow roll of consciousness; the guilt. The horrible crushing of all that you couldn't feel before. Physical ache. Sickness. Gut wrenching depression. It all comes back. Reality. The memories, too.
"She used to find me like this. 'Where would you be without me?' She'd ask. 'If you could ever catch me." He looks up at Joan as the shirt falls onto his lap. If you could ever catch me, he said. Irene. The only person in the world to slide through his fingers every single time. He leaned his head back and let out a morose laugh as both hands covered his face.
"You can't fix a person, Watson." It's more stern in tone as his hands drop and he tugs on his T. Slowly, Sherlock manages to his feet. His eyes slowly roll from the evidence in her hand to the look on her face. Finally moving away from the wall, he follows. The sun catches him enough for am arm to cover his eyes. Much later: "You can't fix a persons mind."
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Date: 2012-12-07 10:05 pm (UTC)"She used to find me like this. 'Where would you be without me?' She'd ask. 'If you could ever catch me." He looks up at Joan as the shirt falls onto his lap. If you could ever catch me, he said. Irene. The only person in the world to slide through his fingers every single time. He leaned his head back and let out a morose laugh as both hands covered his face.
"You can't fix a person, Watson." It's more stern in tone as his hands drop and he tugs on his T. Slowly, Sherlock manages to his feet. His eyes slowly roll from the evidence in her hand to the look on her face. Finally moving away from the wall, he follows. The sun catches him enough for am arm to cover his eyes. Much later: "You can't fix a persons mind."