And Sherlock sees it all. Like it had been sitting there all this time, why she became a companion. Penance. Help save lives because she'd lost one but this wasn't where she belonged. He knew it but somehow ithad just lit up with such vibrance and possibly he now understood just what this situation was doing to her.
There was nothing but the coffee slowly coming to a stop that sounded through this house. He reaches out for a cup and takes one, pouring. Not for her, for him. Putting aside his talk about caffeine addiction, he was going to start burning out in - now, more or less. Sugar. He needed lots of sugar.
"Moriarty," he finds himself wandering over to the table to take a seat; both hands coming to wrap around the warm cup. He scrapes his hands over his mouth and rubs along it. He's not stalling. It's fair. It's time. How to tell it, this fantastical story he is not even sure of it's truth. How much of it was halucination from his drug use? In retrospect -- But Moriarty was a real person real close to being the reason Sherlock almost was not here today.
Irene found him, that night. The night Sherlock lost.
"I can't go back to London," he starts there. "I can't go back," his hands ache for movement. They seek whatever they can get as he speaks. "because I am wanted for murder. I am wanted for murder because of Moriarty, the only reason I was permitted to enter America was because Scotland Yard knows I did not do it. Even if all the evidence points to me that I did. Friends, lets say."
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Date: 2012-12-08 06:03 am (UTC)There was nothing but the coffee slowly coming to a stop that sounded through this house. He reaches out for a cup and takes one, pouring. Not for her, for him. Putting aside his talk about caffeine addiction, he was going to start burning out in - now, more or less. Sugar. He needed lots of sugar.
"Moriarty," he finds himself wandering over to the table to take a seat; both hands coming to wrap around the warm cup. He scrapes his hands over his mouth and rubs along it. He's not stalling. It's fair. It's time. How to tell it, this fantastical story he is not even sure of it's truth. How much of it was halucination from his drug use? In retrospect -- But Moriarty was a real person real close to being the reason Sherlock almost was not here today.
Irene found him, that night. The night Sherlock lost.
"I can't go back to London," he starts there. "I can't go back," his hands ache for movement. They seek whatever they can get as he speaks. "because I am wanted for murder. I am wanted for murder because of Moriarty, the only reason I was permitted to enter America was because Scotland Yard knows I did not do it. Even if all the evidence points to me that I did. Friends, lets say."