He hasn’t slept with Mary since it happened. Well, strictly speaking he hasn’t slept with Mary for months, but this is different. They have made up. It should be fine now. And yet John can’t bear the idea of being touched (again), not even by her, not so soon after –
That’s usually the point in his thought process when he has to leave the house to find something to beat his fist against.
Mary notices that something is wrong, of course she does. John can tell that she’s worried; once or twice she looks at him with a deep frown on her face and takes a breath as if to ask, but she never dares. John is grateful for it; he doesn’t know what might come out of him if she did. It’s still raw, this new peace between them, still fragile and delicate, and John would rather not put it to the test. Not when his whole world is already tearing itself apart at the seams.
Two days after his visit to Sherlock a black car stops in front of him on his way to work. John lingers at the kerb, fists clenching in his pockets, and considers fighting his way out of this. Which would be pointless, of course; there’s no telling how many agents Mycroft has hidden behind the tinted windows. They’d be onto him in seconds.
FILL (3/4): "The dragons within" (TW: non-con & aftermath)
That’s usually the point in his thought process when he has to leave the house to find something to beat his fist against.
Mary notices that something is wrong, of course she does. John can tell that she’s worried; once or twice she looks at him with a deep frown on her face and takes a breath as if to ask, but she never dares. John is grateful for it; he doesn’t know what might come out of him if she did. It’s still raw, this new peace between them, still fragile and delicate, and John would rather not put it to the test. Not when his whole world is already tearing itself apart at the seams.
Two days after his visit to Sherlock a black car stops in front of him on his way to work. John lingers at the kerb, fists clenching in his pockets, and considers fighting his way out of this. Which would be pointless, of course; there’s no telling how many agents Mycroft has hidden behind the tinted windows. They’d be onto him in seconds.
John heaves a deep sigh and gets in.