[log] fuck [closed]

[devoutish]

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Emily Kaldwin, Gregory House, John Watson, Royce Melborn, Tifa Lockhart
Location: building 120 and building 101
Date: evening of 190 to morning of 192
Summary: when you see "House" and "Royce" in the same log you know it's gonna be a party
Warnings: ear removal

Catch-all for EVERYTHING - death, murder, torture, yelling, etc. Top-level and tag as you see fit.

Comments

[devoutish]

I dunno, mate. She was good at hiding her feelings.

[jumpthegun]

[Everyone is better at hiding their emotions than John. Or it feels like it sometimes.]

There's still a chance. There's always a chance 'til the end, right? She might come back.

[devoutish]

To this?

[To Norfinbury, to the eventual end that might very well be waiting for them.

Maybe it's better that she doesn't.]

[jumpthegun]

To a chance to get out properly, back to her sister.

[devoutish]

Yeah.

[He clears his throat.]

Yeah. Look at you, eh? I came over here to get you to stop fucking moping.

[And now he's the one trying to bolster Alfie's spirits.]

[jumpthegun]

[John leans against Alfie for a moment.]

That's the trick with me. Just be pitiful, yourself. I'll perk right up.

[He's joking. Mostly.]

[devoutish]

[Again, Alfie doesn't shove him away.]

It really is true. Fucking hell.

[jumpthegun]

[John pulls away again and runs a hand through his hair before taking another bite of apple.]

Good to know you won't kick a man when he's down. Thank you.

[devoutish]

I would.

[In general. Sometimes. But... not Watson, not even now.]

[jumpthegun]

[John just sighs.]

Let's stay nice a little while longer. It's... nice.

[devoutish]

I don't think it can last forever.

[But until then...]

What sort of food did you bring Sherlock, when you did the shopping?

[jumpthegun]

[It can't. There's too much tension and too many words between them.]

Did a lot of pastas, different sauces. Brisket and stews. Nothing fancy. Just something to fill him up. He wouldn't eat, sometimes, when we were on cases. Or he'd get into a snit and just not wanna eat.

[devoutish]

I'd never have the patience for it.

[jumpthegun]

We ate out more than a bit, too. He'd never cook, but we'd go out after finishing up a case of on a case on a stakeout. Angelo's was the first place he ever took me. Little Italian joint. Helped get the Angelo off a murder charge.

[devoutish]

Italians. Mm.

[His tone says he clearly doesn't think much of them, because anytime is time for a little casual racism, apparently.]

You cook, then?

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. I did a lot of cooking when I was a kid. Harry didn't much care to learn or do it herself, and Mum and Dad were busy. [He shrugs, and tries to throw on a joking tone.] It was self-preservation.

[devoutish]

That's a bit sad, mate. Your mum should have cooked for you.

[jumpthegun]

[John backpedals.]

She cooked sometimes. She and Dad were just working a lot. They wanted to have food in the cupboards, I don't think it's too much to ask us to pull it out and do something with it ourselves.

[devoutish]

How old were you?

[jumpthegun]

Old enough. Does it matter? We made do.

[devoutish]

This sort of thing is why mothers should stay at home.

[jumpthegun]

And that sort of talk is why women are still paid less than men for the same work. You can't expect a woman to sacrifice everything if you're not willing to do the same. There are stay-at-home dads these days, too. And there are kids who've got two dads and no mums for gay couples. And there's day care and things if you've got the money for it. Or your kids can't figure it out. Me and Harry, we sorted it. It worked.

[For a given value of 'worked.']

[devoutish]

All right, then - it's why one parent or the other should stay at home.

[jumpthegun]

We survived, none the worse for wear. [In spite of what Sherlock's deductions yesterday about John and Harry making up a secret language together might have said.] It's not like they left us to starve or out in the cold. Maybe it was better. I learned to take care of myself. Life skills, right?

[He lightens his tone again, trying to get Alfie to just laugh it off as the bizarre vagaries of the future.]

[devoutish]

[He doesn't laugh.]

It's a sad story, John.