An Unexpected Vacation

[armydoctor]

Watson's brain hadn't quite caught up with the reality of his situation. That they were in danger, he understood. That Moriarty was behind it, he grasped easily. That it was necessary to flee the country, he could not argue with even if he wasn't happy about. And it was easy to understand why he had to take this convoluted route to the station

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[mustbetruth]

Frankly, Holmes is sick with worry. He's mostly very upset that Watson is here because he knows precisely what Watson's involvement in all this is; they love each other, and Moriarty wants to use that to hurt Holmes. He relented to bringing Watson with him because at least he could keep Watson safe if they were together, even if he doesn't really think that his side is the safest place, either. The hardest part of all of this is keeping this quiet from Watson, but he isn't sure he has the courage to tell him.

He's glad, too, that this journey starts out with him in costume; he vents some of his unease in his little act, and he watches Watson's anxious face with some detached amusement. Once the train begins to move, however, it's safe to shatter the illusion.

"My dear Watson," he says, hiding his smile, "you have not even condescended to say good-morning."

[armydoctor]

To say that Watson was surprised was an understatement. He very nearly cried out, although he did manage to stop himself. He did turn, staring at Holmes in astonishment, amazement, immense relief. Now that he had Holmes alive and well before him, it was much easier to be genuinely engaged in what they were doing, very nearly excited. Their current situation was dangerous, to be sure, but that was nothing he had ever shied away from.

"Holmes!" His voice was not loud, hushed in fact, but he abandoned the window and sank down beside him, catching Holmes's hands in his. Any more affectionate greeting would have to wait, unfortunately. "Good heavens, you gave me a start. Is all well? Have we been followed?"

He bit back the thousand other questions he had, and merely clutched at Holmes's fingers, running his thumb over Holmes's palm.

[mustbetruth]

"There; you may see for yourself," he says, tense. Holmes nods out the window, where the tall figure of Moriarty can be seen pushing through the crowds, but the train's already speeding away, and he won't be able to catch them -- not here, anyway. Not yet. What's most infuriating is he can't deduce what would happen, should Moriarty catch them; surely Holmes is the prize, but would killing him or robbing him of his heart be the more satisfying punishment?

"I'm relieved to see you are well. Did you read about our rooms? I only hope the fire damage wasn't too severe."

[armydoctor]

Watson craned his neck to catch what glimpse he could of this Moriarty person, trying to see him well enough to remember his face, but... well, the man was awfully distant, and growing more so.

He shut the blinds, and turned to Holmes hastily, kissing him briefly but hard. There was no way to explain exactly how desperate he was to greet him properly, how glad he was to see Holmes in one piece, and he could not have waited any longer to demonstrate that fact.

"I did see," he said, sitting back again. "I suppose that's why you had me go to a hotel. Is Mrs. Hudson all right, do you know?"

[mustbetruth]

This trip is intoxicatingly distracting. It's tempting to think of this as simply a holiday, like their first holiday together; it's tempting just to enjoy his time with Watson, but he can't relax completely, not until he knows that Moriarty and his gang are captured. He makes a conscious effort to keep his mood in decent spirits, however. He doesn't want to be upset; he doesn't want to let it show how worried he is, not really, but it's difficult.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette and doesn't glance at the clock. A telegram should be coming soon, and every second that it's not here has him more nervous.

[armydoctor]

Strasbourg was pleasant, if nothing else, and the cafe in which they sat was charming, but as far as Watson was concerned the highlight was the company. It was a strange and disturbing sort of holiday, but he couldn't help but enjoy it. The alternative was, after all, to dread every minute.

He was aware of Holmes's tension, but wasn't sure how to broach it, if at all. With his lunch eaten, he sipped quietly at his coffee, wanting to offer some sort of conversation.

"How long shall we stay here?" he asked at last, markedly casual but with a sharp, worried eye on Holmes.

[mustbetruth]

He huffs and then breathes more slowly; he steeples his fingers together and forces himself to find something calming to hold onto as he keeps an eye out for the telegram. Of course it isn't Watson's fault that he doesn't understand; how can he understand, when Holmes himself hasn't let on to it? Moriarty is simply another villain; another puzzle that Holmes will solve, or not solve, and Watson will scribble it down in his journal, and he will publish it or he won't, and they'll continue on as they were.

Whether or not that happens depends entirely on this telegram. Holmes can't say why he knows that; he clings to that, that he can't predict the future, not like this, not on a feeling.

"How long would you like to spend here?" he says instead, and he shifts his eyes to Watson instead of straining them for the messenger. Watson is his life raft here, and he intends to sail his positivism to the end.

[armydoctor]

"Well, it's quite pleasant," Watson said, easily. It was, in fact, far more easy than he actually felt, but it seemed important to pretend to that sort of calmness. "I wouldn't mind styaing here for a few ays, and enjoying the atmosphere as much as possible. If you think that's wise, of course."

He took another sip of his coffee, stretching his legs a little under the table. "What do you think?" he asked. "Is it worth staying here?"