[When he speaks, the relief is strong enough to leave her extremities momentarily numb in the emotion, her knees sinking into the snow as she wraps her arms around him. At first, she's holding him loosely. He's not hurt, and she's supposed to keep her knowledge of the video she'd sent him under wraps. If she knows about it, knows he'd seen it, knows he'd acted on it--then her Bakerstreet Boys will know that she knows of her death.
But she can't quite help herself. Her plan worked too well. She'd not only gotten the infamous John Watson invested, however buried in grief he'd been--she'd dragged herself along for the ride, despite how far away she'd been.
It had been such a good plan. She just was supposed to be entirely dead for it.
Regardless, she grips him tighter, forehead against his shoulder. Her heart is racing, and she wonders if he can feel it through the layers of fabric between them.
Don't let him know. He can't know that she remembers the video. He can't know that she knows. Her words are chosen carefully, regardless of how true they are.]
You are an idiot, Sherlock Holmes. After the Joker? You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed!
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But she can't quite help herself. Her plan worked too well. She'd not only gotten the infamous John Watson invested, however buried in grief he'd been--she'd dragged herself along for the ride, despite how far away she'd been.
It had been such a good plan. She just was supposed to be entirely dead for it.
Regardless, she grips him tighter, forehead against his shoulder. Her heart is racing, and she wonders if he can feel it through the layers of fabric between them.
Don't let him know. He can't know that she remembers the video. He can't know that she knows. Her words are chosen carefully, regardless of how true they are.]
You are an idiot, Sherlock Holmes. After the Joker? You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed!