snowblindrpg | [log] Don't worry! [closed]

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[log] Don't worry! [closed]

Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Franken Stein, Marie Mjolner, Death the Kid
Location: Building 235, and building 34...with stops in between
Date: Evening of 233; evening of 240. Potentially there will be some intermingling between as there is some travel time
Summary: Stein and Kid meet up with Marie at the aquarium. They then will double back and return to the hot water house to meet up with John, Sherlock and Mycroft for Kid's blood transfusion.
Warnings: Blood, sickness, general Norfinbury nonsense. Will change if needed.

235: A small aquarium. It has the feel of a small-town tourist attraction, the sort built to give people just stopping to get gas a reason to stay for an hour or two. There are various aquariums inside that, according to plaques beside them, once showcased various Alaskan fish, but they're all empty of fish now. Various fish names are carved into the plaques: catfish, dogfish, mousefish, and birdfish. A piece of paper stuck on the lip of the catfish-labeled tank reads, in childish text and red pen, as follows: "You have to put your own fish in the tanks. DO NOT put Birdfish, Mousefish, or Dogfish in the tank with the Catfish!" The water still runs here, and even runs hot in the sinks, though there aren't any showers or bathtubs to use. The whole atmosphere is kind of eerie, with the water casting rippling patterns on the walls, ceilings, and floors.

34: Most of this house is in ruins--to get to the door requires walking over some rubble of the ruined house, although it seems like someone has moved the worst of it, allowing easier access to the house. The intact door leads to two intact rooms, and therefore it can be used as an overnight shelter. The door opens to a master bedroom with a large mattress and a thick comforter--too thick to carry without trouble, but nice for staying overnight here. The master bedroom is attached to a functioning master bathroom; the most important thing to note here is that it has a working shower with about ten minutes of hot water every day. Some of the tiles in the shower have been shattered and broken away, revealing a metal wall beneath. One nightstand has been broken apart and burned.

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[Even with the prospect of running into Stein, John's feeling rather good about today. They'd managed to find Sherlock another set of violin strings, he's going to be helping Kid (even if that's temporary), and nothing has gone horribly wrong in a few days. The Molly anomaly is still on his mind as something horrid, but there's not much he can do about that. She and Fiona's anomaly sometimes blend together in his mind and it really doesn't do anything to help.

But they're here to help now. John sets up by folding the large blanket on the mattress aside and laying out his plastic tarp there. He heads into the loo and does his best to clean his pair of syringes as thoroughly as humanly possible. He'll have to rely on Sherlock being meticulous about it after this, as his assistant for the procedure, but for the first time he's the one cleaning up.

John can be found there. Or, when he's finished, he's digging through his pack for fruit cups from the school. Marie will need something sugary after donating the blood. There's also some ibuprofen for the sore arms that they're both going to have after getting stuck so many times.

[Kid is hesitant when he pokes his head into the bathroom, but he is in no way quiet. Coughing precedes him, and he tucks his mouth into the sleeve of his coat, hiding the blood it brings up. His hair is still damp from the shower he'd been encouraged ~~forced~~ to take by Marie (under strict instruction by Stein). Pushing damp hair from his face, he leans heavily against the doorway, shivering in the cold.]

Do you need help, Dr. Watson? [He's nervous, clear in his anxious rubbing of his remaining eye. It was a bad habit he'd picked up over his time in Norfinbury.] I do not mind. You have come far out of your way to help.

It's fine. I'm happy to help. I'm actually all right here, but are you cold? I have a blanket we can wrap around you.

[His pack is at his feet, and he pulls out a navy blue and white-striped blanket to offer to kid.]

I have an extra coat, too, if you're needing that. We'll need to take it off for the procedure, though.

I am always cold. [A byproduct of the fevers. Still, he won't turn down the blanket and wraps it around himself, still perched in the doorway.] Thank you, though. It is better.

[As John returns to instrument washing, Kid resumes watching.]

You are sure Miss Marie will be all right?

Her arm will be a little sore, but that's all. We're only drawing a pint. The human body can handle losing that much easily. And you'll probably feel a little less cold once we're finished.

[John glances up at Kid.]

At least with that part. I'd also like to get those stitches out of your eye while I'm here. They're going to start being a problem before too long.

[Kid hesitantly steps away, the color draining from his face. The anxiety on his face morphs into something less rational.]

Professor Stein said that. That they needed to come out. [Kid shakes his head slowly, sounding timid.] So did Mr. Holmes. But...I don't...when the professor looked I didn't stay still, so...

[So, as Kid had told Sherlock was his biggest fear, he had been held down so it could be done.] I didn't want to let him look at all.

[Considering John's own recently-developed phobia about anyone touching his eyes, he understands. John sets aside the syringe he's working on and holds up a hand.]

He doesn't have to touch anything, and if it would help, I do have some medication that'll just make you sleepy while I do it. I don't want to scare you, Kid. But it really is dangerous for those to stay in.

I talked with him earlier. Your friend, the detective. I...Professor Stein told me to ask you about it myself, but I wasn't going to. Mr. Holmes convinced me. [It's very true, though the reality is that he had been cajoled by many to address the stitches for some time. John will have to infer Kid's fear as the teen pulls the blanket up to cover his head as well, leaving just his face exposed. He's shaking again, and shakes his head "no" just slightly.]

I don't want medicine! The cough medicine is how...being sleepy from the cough medicine is how... [Stammering into nervous silence, he stares at Watson, panic in his stomach.]

[He's hesitant, speaking slowly.]...If I t-try my best to stay st-still, you will not need to...?

[He gets it and regrets suggesting the medicine.] I won't need to hold you still at all. We can do it in here, or out in the bigger room, if that would make you feel more comfortable.

[The bathroom would be better for the privacy, but John's aware that the Stein's attack had happened in the aquarium loo, as well.

If you are sure...

[Kid glances back at the open bigger room, and then tips his head back towards it. He doesn't flinch away, but his breathing is quick and shallow and he's careful to lean his form against the door frame for balance.]

I'm sure they need to come out. Beyond that, where we do this is entirely up to you. [John stands and pulls a small set of sewing scissors from his pack, inside his sewing kit. He uses the handkerchief with disinfectant he'd been using to clean the needles with to wipe the scissors down. A pair of tweezers also comes out of his pack to get disinfected.]

Just sit down or stand where you'd like and tell me when you're ready, okay? If you'd feel more comfortable, I have some cotton swabs that I'm gonna put some disinfectant on. You can use those to clean around your stitches, yourself.

Sitting is better... [Kid watches the scissors warily, stepping back to the larger master bedroom. He wants to ask what's best, where the best spot to sit, the best position, how he can help. It's easier than thinking about those scissors close enough to snip sutures from his empty eye socket.

He ends up sitting on the bed, lightheaded and watching Watson suspiciously. He's small and not necessarily easy to reach while seated, but he's not convinced he'd be able to stay upright. Wringing his hands, he mumbles:] I...I would prefer to clean them myself. Ah--please, Dr. Watson.

[John follows Kid out after a moment, bringing the cotton swabs and a bottle of disinfectant. He coats one of the cotton balls and offers it to Kid.]

Dabbing or small swipes. Please try to avoid rubbing.

[The doctor keeps his eyes lowered demurely, relaxing his posture, as he kneels down and tries to appear as small and non-threatening as he is capable of.]

[While John is exceptionally non-threatening, the entire process still is, and his hands shake as he works. His movements are careful but he still irritates the skin around the stitches and that causes several of them to bleed.

Kid keeps his uninjured left eye focused on the open room, searching for signs of movement around him. Even a deep breath from John will get his over-anxious attention.

He works until he his hands are shaking too much for him to do; only then does he notice the blood on the cotton.] ...is this enough?

[John frowns at the blood when he looks up.]

Yeah, that's more than enough. What's going to happen is I'm going to use my tweezers to grasp the knot, I'll slip the scissors into the loop and then tug the stitch out. There'll be some pressure, but it shouldn't hurt at all. Can you try counting your breaths in your head to keep calm? I know you can do this, Kid. Eight in, eight out. I'll probably be done by the fourth count.

[Kid nods, balling the small cotton ball between his fingers. His hands continue to shake as his remaining eye watches John warily. He takes a slow breath in, lips moving just slightly as he counts--even still a whistling wheeze accompanies each careful inhale and exhale. It's almost musical, if it weren't also distracting Kid from his counting.

The eye watching John squeezes tightly shut and Kid sets his jaw.] I...will try very hard not to move, Dr. Watson.

I know you will, Kid. You're doing great so far. Would you mind counting aloud together? It'll help me concentrate, too. [No, it won't, but it will hopefully distract Kid.

John pinches the first knot between the tweezers and moves the scissors to cut it free.]

Yes, very well. One, two, three--

[The thread itself is old and brittle from being cleaned and dried many times over. Tense as John works, Kid tries to focus on the counting and his breathing...and it works. Until the cool metal of the scissors presses against his cheek, and he's suddenly somewhere else.

All promises about staying still are promptly forgotten. A trusted doctor standing over him, the cold metal of a scalpel pressed against his face, the limited mobility. Kid doesn't go to strike him, but he does reach for John's hand to stop the doctor. Despite both the illness and his size, his panicked grip is surprisingly strong if he manages to get a hold of him. His strangled cry is more tears than shout.]

St-stop, P-Professor-- [He doesn't wrench at John's arm, just holds tight.] Please--

[John snips through the first knot and then pulls the scissors away, dropping his hand down if Kid allows him to.]

I'm John, Kid. It's just John. We're through the first one. You're doing so well. Only four more knots. I know you can do this, Kid. I know you can. This isn't like with your professor. It's just us. You and me. Deep breaths.

[When John snips the knot and pulls the stitch through, blood drips from the site. Kid's arm drops with John's, but he doesn't let go. His breathing is shallow and panicked, and though John is talking Kid isn't processing. He can't hear through the rushing blood in his ears.

He tries to pull away, but he's too tangled in the blanket to move.]

[They're going to have to do this very slowly, one stitch at a time. With Kid tangled up, John simply shuffles back. He wants to take care of that blood, but it will have to wait. The doctor doesn't pull his hand out of Kid's grip, just goes to arm's length and drops his head down and breathes.]

In. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Out. One, two, three...

[He keeps going, voice low and soothing, trying to induce Kid to follow his lead like this.]

[It takes several counts for Kid to finally settle (six, actually). Then he realizes that he's not quite where he started and John isn't working. That he's gripping John's hand tightly, as if he were going to try and pull the doctor away from his face. That there is blood on his cheek from what was presumably one removed stitch--it isn't too difficult for the teen to put together the pieces.

He lets go of John's hand, coughing, his entire demeanor shifting. The fear hasn't vanished, but there's an awareness that had been missing moments before. He scrubs his sleeve over his good eye, attempting to hide nearly-shed tears but mostly smearing the drips of blood.]

I-- [His voice cracks, and he ducks his head.] --I'm sorry, Dr. Watson. [He's every bit as small as he looks, and sounds it when he murmurs:] I do not think I can do this.

[John sighs heavily.]

I think you can, Kid. It's gonna take us a while, but I can be patient if you're willing to keep trying. One stitch at a time. We can pause in between each and count. It really needs to come out. I know this is hard. I know how hard it is, but you're brave, Kid. I know how brave you are with everything you've been here. You've helped me in so many ways. I know this is frightening, but please, let me help you. It's the least I can do. I don't want you to be hurt. I won't hold you. I won't force you, but this needs to be done.

[And John is pretty sure that if they don't do it here, Kid is going to have to deal with Stein holding him down to do it later.]

I know they do. I know. [John's presumption that the next action would be Kid enduring Stein removing the stitches himself, forcefully, isn't wrong. The teen has been quiet, but he'd already endured a very uncomfortable physical exam. An exam that included looking at his eye, which had gone exponentially worse than this.

Kid shudders, taking a shaking breath. He's not willing to admit that physical comfort would be helpful--it's in times like these that he misses his weapon partners the most, the way Patti would settle against one side and Liz against his other and tangle themselves around him until he was finally still.

Head bowed, he nods slowly. The sniffle he attempts to hide by clearing his throat.] I want to try. What sort of...what sort of grim reaper am I, if I cannot tolerate this? [He scrubs his hands through his hair.] There is no excuse. Please, forgive my earlier behavior.

You're the kind of grim reaper who's still a teenager and still learning, Kid. [John's not overly physically affectionate, but he does pull his wrist loose from Kid's grip if the lad will allow it and shift his scissors to his other hand with the tweezers so that he can reach up and squeeze Kid's shoulder.]

You're trying your best. That's all I can ask for, Kid. I wouldn't want anyone near my eyes, either. We'll just take it slow. One stitch at a time. There're four more. You can do this. Try counting again for me, okay? Out loud. As loud as you need to be. [It might bother the others, but they can go hang for the moment. If Kid wants to scream counts of eight, that's fine.

One last squeeze and then his scissors are back in the left hand and John pinches the next knot with the tweezers.] Just count, Kid.

Right. Counting. [His hands wrap in the blanket tightly, gripping the fabric till his knuckles turn white and his arms shake with the effort.]

One, two, three, four-- [When the tweezers grip the knot of the stitch, Kid stiffens.] J-Just Dr. Watson, t-taking out the stitches. It-- [Kid squeezes his left eye shut, takes a shaking breath of air.] It's all r-right. Just the stitches.

Edited 2017-06-04 14:44 (UTC)

That's right. It's just me, Kid. You're doing great. Just me and you. Five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three...

[He continues counting as he slips the scissors through the loop and snips quickly before tugging out the stitch and dropping his hands down a moment to let Kid recover and finish the latest count to eight.]

Three more stitches. Just three more, right? How many counts of eight d'you think that is?

Four-five-six-seven-eight. [Rushing through the counting defeats the purpose, but considering he's been holding his breath it wasn't so bad. As soon as the stitch slips through, he lets out the breath he was holding. Erratic breathing leaves him coughing, the deep cough bringing up blood. Warily, he opens his eye and glances up at Watson.]

...I do not know. [Taking a shaking breath in and out, the teen looks away.] Too many.

But you're going to make it through. [John really doesn't like the sight of that blood.] And then we'll get you sorted to help with that problem, too, all right? It won't be permanent, but you'll have a little relief. You're still really pulling together here, Kid. Deep breaths and a few counts of eight, and then we'll do another. It'll just be two more after that. D'you need some water to clear your throat?

Edited 2017-06-05 01:33 (UTC)

[Kid swallows, shaking his head. The movement sends the room spinning, but Kid stays still where he's seated with his hands balled tightly beside him. He's careful to keep his breathing controlled.] No thank you.

[Fidgeting, Kid glances up at John before quickly looking away.] ...I would just like to finish.

We'll be finished soon. [He offers Kid his most reassuring smile.] Could you start counting for me again? [John raises the tweezers and scissors again. He'll keep at this method, reassuring Kid and giving him time between each time. When it comes to the last stitch, John's just about ready to shake out of his own skin. Kid's nerves are getting to him, but his hand is steady as ever. With one final snip and tug, the last stitch is free.]

That's it. You're done. You were great, Kid. Here. Let's get some fluids into you. Really, thank you for letting me do that. I know that was one of the hardest things you've ever done. I'm bloody impressed. Not many people would be able to make it through that without flinching. You were amazing, Kid.

[Kid counts, meticulous, though much of the time he holds his breath with his lip between his teeth and hands balled into fists. When John states that they're finished, Kid exhales weakly, leaning against his knees, lightheaded and exhausted.]

I flinched plenty. [But he doesn't go on, fighting to let the vertigo pass, breathing slowly and carefully.] Do you think we might take a break, before we go on?

Edited (Trying to get to a wrap point here ;;) 2017-07-03 00:05 (UTC)

Sure. [John offers Kid another bracing smile.] I'll go fill up your water bottle and you can rest for an hour or so. I do mean it. You did really well, Kid. Thanks.

[With that, John will go off to fetch the water for Kid and leave him be for the next while to recover before the next procedure.]

[Marie and Kid are at the house well before lockdown, primarily due to Stein's prodding. He's exhausted and half-frozen and makes quick work of showering, which he was under strict instruction to do. After that's done, he does exactly what he'd done when he'd stayed in the house with Stein: immediately heads for the comforter and buries himself beneath it.

His nervous energy before Watson arrives and starts the transfusion process is obvious. Under the blanket, he makes quite a sight: on the floor in the corner he's got the contents of his backpack out and in front of him, rearranging and repacking them. Again. If the teen isn't a blanket blob rearranging his things he'll likely be in the same spot but passed out asleep, a handful of items still left out in front of him. There's a water bottle and some food among the items, if you're that sort.]

Edited 2017-05-21 02:24 (UTC)

[He doesn't take the food, but he does pause in front of Kid and glance down at him in mild concern.]

You should have those stitches removed during the procedure.

[He knows Sherlock, but even still as he groggily awakens the fact that someone is standing over him results in a spike of panic.]

I...what? [As he wakes up, he understands: and he slips just slightly deeper beneath the blanket.] They have been in without issue for some time.

Precisely, more than long enough to do the job they were initially intended for, any longer and you risk the possibility of your skin growing around the thread and making it impossible to remove without further incision.

[Kid pulls the blanket tighter around him, and his expression shifts to something even more reminiscent of panic. It isn't unlike the look on his face when he'd run into Sherlock briefly while running out of the aquarium almost two months ago.

But he's still a teenager. Which requires some level of stubbornness.]

Then perhaps they should remain in place.

Didn't you hear what I said?

[Surely not, because what imbecile would think that allowing the stitches to become embedded in the skin was a good idea? Even a non medically trained professional can see what a bad idea that is.]

[Kid winces, color draining from his face. When he answers, he's mumbling.] I heard you. And I know they should come out.

[Fidgeting under the blanket, he swallows.] I do not want...I can not allow anyone near--I am scared. [He sniffs, panic creeping into his voice and scrubbing his remaining eye.]

[Ah. There's a moment where he almost walks away and looks for John or someone else better equipped to deal with a child's fear, but he doesn't. He crouches down to put himself more on Kid's level.]

That's sensible, having had a traumatic experience with your eye, being wary is natural. It is a mark of bravery to be able to face such a fear for necessary reasons. John is a competent surgeon, it would be sensible to let him take a look.

[Even crouching, Sherlock towers over him; Kid shudders slightly and shakes his head.] I don't want him to look. If he looks, he will want to take them out and if he takes them out--

[He hesitates.] I don't want to be held down again. Do you think it's necessary?

Yes, it's definitely necessary.

[A bit gentler he might be at the moment, but he's still not about to lie about this.]

But you needn't be held down, as long as you can remain still then there's no reason for you to be.

Very well. [Kid blinks up at Sherlock, clearly uncertain, but takes the man's answer for what it is.

A few moments of hesitation linger, and Kid returns to the nervous sorting of his backpack. The various bits of food are left where they are and he removes everything again, starting the process over. It's better than nothing.

He doesn't look up when he speaks again.] I...ah....I apologize for being unreasonable. [He coughs, and if he were looking up Sherlock would see his expression is truly chagrined.] Thank you.

[He had been expecting more protest than that, so he's a little taken aback when he apparently succeeds so quickly.]

It's not unreasonable to fear that which can hurt us, it's the most basic of survival instincts.

[Even he's scared sometimes, not that he'll admit that.]

Now come along, we should get those stitches out immediately.

I--ah, I need to--

[What Kid really needs to do is not make excuses. What he is going to do is he is going to make an excuse.

One hand weakly gestures to his small collection of items on the floor, the other choosing an old sheet to unfold and then fold again. The coughing--a symptom of the MN poisoning that had brought them together in the first place--rattles his chest as he works through his "sorting" of items.]

Edited 2017-05-31 09:38 (UTC)

[Sherlock is well acquainted with avoidance techniques, he uses them himself a lot of the time, but he isn't qualified to fight harder.

He simply nods and straightens.]

I'll make sure John comes to see you shortly.

[Most of their travel days have been cut short by MN poisoning. Kid can't walk as far as they need to every day, and Stein can't carry him the whole way.

It's getting late by the time Stein stumbles through the ice tunnels into the aquarium, not late enough for the lockdown alarm to have gone off but late enough that they could turn around and backtrack.]

Anybody home?

[He calls, listening carefully for a response.

It's been a rough few months, and it shows. Stein's clothing is a tattered mismatch of layers, fabric piled and wrapped with no real care for aesthetic (not even stitching), and there's a strip of blanket wrapped around his head and face that leaves just his eyes showing (he doesn't have a need for glasses anymore).

He's carrying Death the Kid piggyback style, and the young god is just as bundled up against the cold as the meister is.]

[Kid has struggled with how quickly they have been traveling. He's tried to hide how much of a struggle it's been from Stein, but by mid-to-late afternoon there's been no hiding that it's harder to move and harder to breathe and harder to keep up with the doctor's long strides. By early evening, Kid hasn't been able to move enough air in and out of his lungs to keep walking. The end result has been making less headway than they'd like each day: Kid trudging through the snow for as long as he's able until he's near collapse and Stein carrying him to safety most evenings.

It's a terrible travel plan, but neither of them have died and for Norfinbury, it's about as good as it gets.

Kid has a bandage wrapped over half of his face and covering his eye--it looks like it was once a fabric napkin--and when Stein lets him down he slips to the floor, curling up tightly as a violent and wet cough wracks his smaller-than-usual frame.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks.] Miss Marie?

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[log] Don't worry! [closed]

Building 34

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Evening 240/Building 34

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impossibly late at the aquarium

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