bakerstreet | (no subject)

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ANGST MEME

Sometimes we all want to play some angst and see just how far our characters will fall.

- Post your characters, name and series in the subject along with any preferences.

- Go to random.org and roll.

- Play!

1. just depressed.

Things are tough, you're feeling worn out, or whatever the case, you're depressed. You need help or someone else thinks you do anyway.

2. abandoned.

You were left behind by everyone you hold dear and now you're forced to see how well they've adjusted, how happy they all are while you're screaming inside.

3. sick.

Cold, flu, or something even worse, all you can do is lay back and let someone take care of you.

4. fight.

You've been fighting nonstop with the other person and it just keep escalating.

5. break up.

You're being broken up with and they won't reconsider... Damn.

6. separated.

For some reason, you've been separated from the other person for a long time.

7. kidnapped.

You've been held captive for how long now? Maybe they've been torturing you even, using your blood to write ransom notes, threatening to cut off fingers to send next, etc. Rescue is on the way though, right?

8. beaten up.

Just because someone didn't like you or maybe they wanted something you had, whatever the case is, you're coming home sporting some nasty wounds and bruises.

9. jealousy.

You just have this undeniable jealousy suddenly and you need to let it out.

10. cheated on.This goes beyond just suspicion and you have full on proof of what your lover has done. How do you handle it?

11. apathetic.

You're not sad, you're not happy, you just... don't feel much anymore. The sparkle of life has gone right out of you and you're just going through the motions now.

12. addicted.

Drugs, alcohol, whatever your drug of choice is, you can't fight the draw and you can't draw yourself out of the hole, but the other person is going to try.

13. bad romance.

You know this isn't good for either of you, but you can't stop now.

14. fear.

Nightmares, the feeling someone is following you, etc. You can't shake the feeling.

15. insanity.

You're seeing things and hearing them, waking up only to realize you've done things you don't remember or you're in a place you weren't before. You're losing it and you don't know what to do.

16. guilt.

It's eating you up inside and you have to tell someone about it now. You want to be punished and you won't take no for an answer.

17. loss

You've lost something dear to you.

18. wild card.

Combine some options or make your own!

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They've been keeping track of you ever since. But... nothing as blatant or face-threatening as this until now.

[He looks over his shoulder toward the bags of shopping on the back seat. His Gatorade is in one of them - the closer one, actually - so he stretches his arm back there to grab the bag and bring it to the front.]

It's possible they made it look like they were coming after me to lure you out.

[She glances at him.]

You've probably thought of that.

Not entirely.

[Yes, he's already thought of that. He'd thought of it while he'd been in the warehouse.]

There was no pretence in their targeting you, but it was a deliberate attempt at smoking me out of the rabbit hole. I was sloppy somewhere along the way, haven't pinpointed the moment yet - give me a minute.

[He actually sits there and thinks about it for that minute, too.]

Angola. Three months back.

You think they figured out you were alive then. Or suspected strongly enough to bait you.

[She wishes his affection for her wasn't such an obvious weakness.]

A suspicion. I wasn't that sloppy.

[Doesn't mean it's not 'too sloppy' already.]

Unfortunately, I just thoroughly confirmed their suspicions.

Theirs and mine. And faking your death won't exactly work a second time.

[Nor can he protect her by just leaving her behind.]

I won't be faking my death a second time. It would be entirely pointless.

[Nor would he be killing himself truly or abandoning Joan. Now that he's had time to recover a little from the dehydration and the haze it had left his mind in, he can think through things much more clearly. After some rest, he might even be able to formulate a reasonable plan. Well, as long as he's lucky enough to avoid infection in any of his injuries.]

You'll have to come with me, of course. Not much choice in it now. We'll first need to handle this small group, then there's a few other loose ends that need knotting before coming back in any overt fashion.

[It makes no sense for him to leave her now, but even if he tried, she wouldn't let him. She'd track him down.]

How long do you think all that will take?

Eighteen hours to finish my recovery. Up forty-eight to track the group - we already know where they are, so that makes it simple. The rest is not so easy to predict. Rough estimate would be one month minimum, but upwards of six months. Ideally, we will be able to return in two to three.

[His situation has changed. Sherlock knows that travelling with Joan would put her in danger, but leaving her to follow after him would be more risky. It will be safer for him to have someone to watch his back and keep him from walking into stupid traps. too.]

Six months. We're going to need more than five hundred dollars if we're going to last for one.

[Five hundred minus the Walmart purchases, of course.]

Where have you been getting the money for all this?

I don't keep all my money in one place.

[He trusts Joan enough to tell her this, even if he doesn't think she'll approve.]

At first, I used the cash that I kept around the flat. ['Hidden' in envelopes, sometimes between book pages, and other various locations.] And, I also have several illegal bank accounts - In Switzerland, Russia, Poland. All involving alias identities.

Mmm.

[She actually doesn't disapprove as much as he thinks she will. They've done plenty of illegal things. They were in a stolen car, after all.]

How much is left?

[This particular bit of illegal activity has been going on since before they met.]

More than we'll need.

[Sherlock could be more specific, but he doesn't see a reason for it. He lowers the back of the passenger seat down a little, so he can recline and lessen the risk of slumping forward when he falls asleep. The amount of gas in this car will get them at least five hours of driving time before they'll have to gas up or swap again. They could switch positions then.]

[He doesn't give specifics, and see doesn't ask. He's stayed alive for this long; she trusts that he knows his resources. It would be stupid to misrepresent them now.

He's leaning back, doubtless to sleep. She glances at him, then looks back at the road. After a moment, she speaks quietly.]

You're probably just going to brush this off as sentient, but I missed you. That's part of why I couldn't stop looking for you. I couldn't accept that you were dead. That I'd never see you again.

Anyway. Rest.

[Sherlock settles against the seat, lifting one of his arms up to curl behind his head to use it as a pillow. His body is as exhausted as his mind, but the awkward position and the bruises and cuts from his interrogation will keep sleep from arriving instantaneously.

He recognises what Joan's saying to him as sentiment, and he does in fact brush it off.]

You're seeing me now and I can guarantee I won't use the same tricks twice.

[Meaning, if he dies again (which he has absolutely zero plan on doing), it will be for real. It would be severely unhealthy to let emotionally induced blindness lead her to chasing after a ghost. If sentiment's kept her going this long, there's no saying it won't do the same later on. Perhaps it's a bit of himself being sentimental in worrying over such a thing.

He closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. He'd missed Joan too through everything. Having a friend is something he didn't realise the value of until he had one and lost her.]

Wake me if you stop somewhere.

[It's starting to get dark, sunset perhaps ten minutes away. Joan turns on the headlights, checks the rearview mirror again. They seem to be the only ones on the road at the moment. Other drivers are probably either home or stopping for dinner.]

Should we get a hotel room for a couple hours?

[Sherlock's sleep had been dreamless, brought on by the exhaustion and the subconscious feeling of safety having a trusted companion at his side.

The sound of Joan's voice makes him wake with a start. He looks around the car groggily, taking a moment to decide where he is. Right, he'd been captured and Joan had come to his aid. Now, they're on the run together. He sighs and brings a hand to his eyes, rubbing them so it would be easier to ignore the desire to just drift back off to sleep.]

Hotel. Yes, that sounds good.

[Maybe he should check their surroundings before making that kind of agreement. He does, then chooses not to amend his statement.]

[He's looked around and not changed his mind. Good. Joan trusts Sherlock's danger assessment, and if he thinks it's safe to stop, then it's probably safe to stop. She drives on for another hour or so before starting to look for lodging signs. The first couple are for small, independent places, and she passes them up. It would be easier for someone to remember a place like that, much harder to remember the Days Inn at exit 34 as opposed to the one at exit 43.

Which is one one she chooses.]

Sherlock, we're stopping at the hotel.

[Sherlock had taken a few sips of his Gatorade before drifting back to sleep within a few minutes of being woken up.

This time, he's alternating between a half-sleep and being awake. It's the perfect physiological state for dreaming, which he does. As with most of his dreams, they're mostly abstract with images here and there. His resting mind is filled with unending hallways with thousands of doors - each holding something he may or may not be willing to face in his waking life. Thoughts, fears, memories, and everything else in between.

He's just opening a door leading to a rather painful memory from a few months back when he hears Joan's voice. He doesn't jump this time, and instead turns to see a dream projection of Joan standing just behind him.

The hotel. Right. Time to wake up.

He stirs and stretches. He looks around the road lazily. There's more people driving around them now, but he assumes Joan would have noticed if they were being followed by any of them.]

Hotel. Yes, good.

[She has been watching, and although the dark has made it difficult, she's pretty sure no one has been following.

She pulls into the Days Inn, and parks somewhere dark.]

Stay here. I'm going to tell them I'm alone.

[Joan checking into the hotel room alone will give him enough time to fully wake up, so he just nods.]

Better that way. I'll keep a look out here.

[He will. Even if he's groggy, his observation skills are far superior to most.]

[It doesn't take her long to check in, and she returns to move the car to the other side of the building. She shuts the engine off and pops the trunk.]

Room 112. Give me a hand with the bags.

[Sherlock complies with the request and even brings his nearly empty drink bottle out of the car with him. He doesn't want to leave anything at all in the car that might be noticed, no matter how insignificant. He slips said bottle into one of the bags before picking up his share.

He's more stable on his feet than he has been so far, but Joan might notice he's favouring his right leg slightly as they walk toward their hotel room.

He scrutinises the parking lot and the walkway leading up to their room, then the door itself before gesturing for Joan to unlock it. It's unlikely, but not impossible, for someone to predict which hotel Joan would stop at. Maybe it's paranoia, but that's been the key to his survival so far and he doesn't plan on dropping it just yet. Once inside, he looks the room over much more thoroughly than he'd checked the first room they were in. He's feeling much more like his typical self now that he's gotten several hours of rest.]

You'll want to charge the phone you bought. I need to send a few texts.

[The room is small, but clean, and in a little better shape than the one they checked into and left earlier in the day. There's one queen-sized bed.

Joan digs the prepaid phone out of the bag, connects the charger and plugs it in. Then she straightens and turns to him.]

I should examine you. Make sure there aren't any injuries we should be addressing.

[She noticed that limp.]

You should take the opportunity to sleep. You've been driving all day and you didn't get very much sleep last night, either.

[Sherlock will look over his own injuries while she rests. He's gotten quite used to doing that, though he tends to only address the ones in need of immediate attention and chooses to ignore the lesser wounds for the sake of saving time. Joan could probably guess that much about him and how he treats his 'transport' in other aspects of his life.]

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Psh...damn "m"...

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