[log] Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary [closed]

[jumpthegun]

Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Royce Melborn, Alfie Solomons
Location: Building 29
Date: Night 281
Summary: Team meet-up turns to grieving when Mary is lost to an anomaly.
Warnings: Character death, dissociation, hallucination

[A small shed outside the school, going inside reveals sports equipment is being stored in here. There are hurdles, various sports balls, giant mats, and the like. There's nothing that could be used as a weapon, though, unless you're going to try to hurl a basketball at someone's head. This is the only place on the campus it's possible to stay in overnight.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

[Mary is dead. Again. Here.

John and Sherlock had done everything they could to drag her away, to protect her, and it hadn't been enough. It was never enough. Major Sholto is blessedly silent, although he sits quietly nearby in the corner of John's vision sometimes. It's not constant, but it's persistent.

He knows he should be comforting Sherlock or Mycroft or checking on Alfie and Royce, but all he can focus on is that monstrous version of Mrs. Hudson grabbing hold of Mary. What could he have done? There had to be something they could have done. And things are starting to feel distant, like he's not quite here.]

[devoutish]

Here you go.

[Alfie hunkers down next to him and tries to shove a cup of chamomile tea into his hands.]

Drink up.

[jumpthegun]

[John takes the cup and drinks mechanically.]

I fell apart without her, Alfie. [And it feels like things are falling apart without her again.] I need whiskey, not tea.

[devoutish]

I haven't got whiskey, so this will have to do.

[He settles on the floor, legs stretched out - leaning on Royce a little, if he's there too.]

You know she might very well be back.

[jumpthegun]

And when we get home? [It's one of the darker places he doesn't let himself stray very often. He's going back to Mary dead and a frantic race to save Sherlock's life.]

[devoutish]

[Alfie's quiet for a moment.]

I wouldn't worry too much about when we get home, mate.

[bywolves]

[ Royce didn't know Mary very well, but he does, even past the apathy, care about how it affects John. Especially because she's his wife. And because Royce knows how it feels. He lets John absorb it for a while, and then comes over to John and drops a blanket in his lap.

Royce doesn't say anything, just sort of... guard dogs, sitting next to John with his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, staring out at the shed. ]

[jumpthegun]

You don't need to. [He does glance over at Royce for a moment.]

[bywolves]

I want to. [ Royce murmurs. ] If you don't want me here, I'll move.

[jumpthegun]

No, it's... fine. [As fine as it can be.] Sorry. We'll leave ahead of you tomorrow.

[bywolves]

Don't apologize. [ Firmly said. ] We're heading into the school, I think. You're going opposite. It works.

[howdull]

[He hasn't spoken since he came around.

It's the same thing again, he's too slow to protect the people he cares about, and once again Mary is dead in front of his eyes. Worse, dead in front of John's eyes, like a macabre version of Groundhog Day that neither of them can solve the mystery of. Worse that it was Mrs. Hudson, her usual friendly worried face becoming twisted hatred.

Eventually he makes his way over to John and sits beside him, silent but there.]

[jumpthegun]

[Sherlock's presence is more welcome than some, at least. John doesn't move to lean against him, but the doctor does relax his vigilant guard marginally and lets his head fall back against the wall.]

Still want to grab the microscope and head to the new area. [It's muttered. After the row with Alfie about resting, he just needs to make certain Sherlock is on his side here. Keep working, push through. Give him something to do... people to save.]

[howdull]

Yes.

[It hadn't really been a question, but he answers it as if it had been one. He knows the need to keep moving because he has it too, if he just lets himself stop then he'll break.]

Though we may need to fashion a sledge soon, Mycroft is ill with MN poisoning.

[Has been for a while, but he hasn't hidden it as well as he might have hoped.]

[jumpthegun]

That'll be trouble over the places with debris. I'll keep an eye out for anything we can use, though.

[A pause as John considers what to say. There really isn't much that needs to be said between them, which is the reason Sherlock is John's best friend over Alfie. Well... some things to be said.

'He'll blame himself,' Sholto says.]

This wasn't you. Mary... it was random. She didn't throw herself in front of anyone. It was just... senseless. [That's almost worse. It's harder to understand the point of it.]

[howdull]

I know.

[He doesn't really blame himself this time, though seeing her die again is tangled up with the guilt he feels from her death back home. At least this time it should be impermanent, but then-- isn't her whole life here impermanent too? She'll go back eventually, they all will, and then she'll die.

He scrubs his hand over his face, fingers trembling ever so slightly.]

I suppose Major Sholto told you to say that, at least he's likely reminding you that it's not your fault either.

[devoutish]

[This kind of thing is exactly why Alfie doesn't like getting food at the school. It's hard to get in and out without spending at least one night in the shed, it's unusual to spend a night in the shed without running into another group on a food run, and too many people end up together... well.

After their failed attempt to save Mary, they all drag the unconscious men inside, and Alfie gets to work making tea. It's something of a makeshift affair involving a fire inside a stewpot and the tea itself boiled in a coffeepot, but it gets the job done... or it will, at least, until he inevitably runs out of matches.

Later in the night, after the tea's done and gone (he'll share it around with the others), he can mostly be found with Royce, stretched out next to him or curled up with him. He'll get up to pray in the corner and do a quick search of the shed, or maybe to talk to the others, but the rest of the time, he'll stay put.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce is on edge more than usual, tonight. He doesn't much trust Mycroft or Sherlock, and after Mary being dragged away, he doesn't want to put the burden on John to break up any fights. Royce isn't even sure he could manage a proper fight with anybody, these days - he hasn't eaten anything in... he's not even sure.

Everything is sort of blurry, when Alfie comes to sit next to him. He's tired and out of it and he can't focus, he's cold, and there's the feeling of what he thinks is hunger gnawing at him, with pangs of paranoia and fright from the people he doesn't trust. It's a little like a flashback, like living out a day on the street, and he's tense and closed off.

He looks half-dead, actually, sitting against the wall, staring at the floor. At first, he doesn't even acknowledge that Alfie is there. ]

[devoutish]

[Wordlessly, Alfie pulls a packet of crackers out of his bag and nudges them into Royce's hands. They should look familiar - they're the same packet of crackers that he'd given them earlier, and that he'd mysteriously found back among his things nog long after.]

[bywolves]

[ Oh. Oops. Royce looks down at the crackers, but doesn't say anything. Rule number one: never admit guilt until someone accuses you of something. ]

[devoutish]

Royce.

[He gives the packet another little nudge.]

Please.

[howdull]

[He watches when the others move, there's not exactly a lot of space to do otherwise, but he mostly lets them be until Alfie prays. He doesn't interrupt the prayer itself, though he does speak up when Alfie rises again.]

Do you still believe your prayers do any good here?

[devoutish]

[He prays standing, facing the wall, and when he turns back around his eyes go to Sherlock.]

You think I'm asking God to rescue us, or something like that?

[howdull]

Doubtful, it's more likely you're asking for protection for Royce.

[Though who knows what people pray about.]

[devoutish]

I'm not asking for anything at all.

[He moves back over to Royce, lowering himself onto the floor and climbing into the mess of blankets, tucking himself up against the other man.]

You think I want to protect him, but not myself?