bakerstreet | MINOR INJURIES MEME

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ After the business with Black Jack Randall, they reassign Jamie. It's all for naught, as Jamie could have told them, but someone on high reasons his chances of survival are better if he's on the other end of the country. Burying him in another precinct with a new partner is the best solution anyone's come up with, much to Jamie's dismay.

Of course, he's followed by a slow migration of Scots, so maybe this isn't quite the brilliant plan the brass thought it would be.

But at the end of the day, he's still got a job to do. Black Jack's reach is long, but those groping fingers haven't managed to root Jamie out. Jamie's free to work cases in relative safety. Or so he thought, right up until a bullet lays Holder flat as they pry into a missing persons case. ]

It's not so bad, [ Jamie tells him through gritted teeth. ] I cannae recall anyone dying from a shot up in the meat of their shoulder.

[ Meant to be comforting, though Holder's bleeding and they're pinned down for the moment, trapped behind the cheap plaster walls of this apartment. There's a woman crying in the next room. Not ideal. ]

S'lucky, [ he persists, voice full of false cheer as he wad up a t-shirt to press to the wound. ] You with me?

Man, fuck you.

[ it's safe to say things are going interestingly enough for holder and his new partner. jamie fraser is — well, he's not linden, that's for goddamn sure. despite the baggage he brings with him, the guy's like a ball of sunshine. he doesn't say no, he doesn't make waves, he says something upbeat or whatever in that weird accent of his and they're off again.

it's a pretty easy life, all things considered. until, of course, the bullet wound. hands get lost, pushing and pressing, as holder remains propped against the wall. blood stains the patch behind him, sinking through the threads of his shirt. it'll heal cleanly enough, and it's sure as hell not his first brush with death, but christ, the shit hurts.

his teeth are clenched, his body tense. he's breathing in and out through his nose, but there's little calm to be had now. holder's head leans and he watches jamie down the bridge of his nose. ]

Next time, I'm usin' that pretty face of yours for a human shield, yo. Shit.

Ah, so you think I'm pretty?

[ Angry's good. Murtagh taught him that when he'd been a lad, though admittedly at the time Jamie's fights had been on a much smaller and less lethal scale. But in the moment, anger and cursing means Holder's well enough for someone who's been shot, and Jamie's worry shifts tentatively into relief. ]

Someone's keen to keep us from asking questions here. I'd say it means we're on the right track.

[ Clearly, Jamie's pleased about that. He likes the feeling of progress, even if it's limited simply to the work they're doing within the confines of the precinct. He has his whole life sunk into New York, held captive by Black Jack. Jamie'll take what he can get while he sorts out how to destablize Randall's hold. ]

We need to get you out of here. And her.

[ Meaning the woman crying, poorly hidden on the other side of the apartment. No small feat. ]

You wanna eat this bullet I got buried in here — you keep on talkin'.

[ holder licks his lips, sweat pooling at the curvature of his neck and standing out against his forehead. his gaze turns toward the sound of the sobs. if it ain't one thing, it's almost certain to be another, right? he exhales, breath wavering. ]

Here, c'mere. I gotta — shit.

[ he attempts to reach for jamie's shoulder, but his hand slips, and he trembles, falling into the wall again with a huff. already too pale, the color is draining from his face, but he's never been anything short of stubborn, and decides to go again, this time, hooking himself closer to his partner. ]

We gotta get her outta here. Last thing we need's another shoot-out, you feel me?

[ There's blood soaking the fabric of Holder's jacket. Jamie's medical expertise is limited, but he knows they need to move. Now, if not sooner. ]

Aye, we're in enough trouble as it is.

[ Though getting out is easier said than done. Jamie grits his teeth, braces an arm around Holder and lifts. There's going to be a streak of blood on him now, which hopefully they'll have opportunity to bicker about tomorrow. ]

There's got to be a back way out, eh? We'll take the alley.

[ Or he could foist Holder onto the woman in the backroom and go play human target out the front door. Jamie isn't sure how that would go over. He pats Holder's chest absently, leaning his shoulder against the door jam. ]

MINOR INJURIES MEME

stephen holder — the killing

6x3x3 / i got this au going just humor me.

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR

LMFAOOOOO

first of all how dare u

i saw my opportunity and i fuckin' took it NO REGRETS