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[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

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[jumpthegun]

[John is going to assume Alfie means Sherlock, and not him.]

Yeah, well. He's always been like this. The second day we'd known each other he had me drive across London just because he wanted to text someone with my phone. Said it was an emergency then, too.

[devoutish]

Don't know why you put up with him. He'd drive me-- yeah, he'd drive me up the fucking wall. Wouldn't fucking stand for it.

[jumpthegun]

He drives most people up the wall. [There's a long sigh.] And I've told you why. Hasn't really changed. [The whole... love thing. The idiotic self-sacrifice from Sherlock. The excitement. The connection after Mary...]

[devoutish]

Yeah. I'd smack him to the floor. The fucking floor.

[jumpthegun]

[This is entering into uncomfortable territory. John's picturing Sherlock on the floor, face bloody, eyes wide and teary. His voice is quieter for a moment.]

Not as satisfying as you'd think.

[He clears his throat.]

Where are you? Still downtown?

[devoutish]

Mm. Can't stand it down here.

[jumpthegun]

Sounds like you might be finding good supplies, at least? Last I talked to Royce, anyway.

[devoutish]

You talked to Royce?

[jumpthegun]

Yeah, a little while back when he made that post about trading and turning into a monster.

[Wait.]

Oh, right. Our conversation was private.

[devoutish]

Mm...

[He trails off for a moment, fuzzy-headed.]

-- Yeah. Yeah, that one; yeah, that's right.

[jumpthegun]

[There's a pause.]

Are you feeling all right, Alfie?

[devoutish]

Ah-- yeah, no, I'm a bit out of sorts at the moment, I'm afraid.

[jumpthegun]

What's happened? Is Royce all right? Are you hurt?

[devoutish]

We're, ah, a bit intoxicated, that's all.

[jumpthegun]

What?

[There's a small spike of jealousy that John knows is very unhealthy.]

You... weren't you the one who's said it's a bad idea to drink in this weather?

[devoutish]

It's a terrible idea.

[He's just past the point of caring. They're in danger of dying all the time, anyway. There's not much difference between 80% likely to die and 81%.]

[jumpthegun]

Alfie...

[There's another long sigh, this time actually directed at the other man.]

How much have you drunk?

[devoutish]

Polished off a bottle together. Wine.

cw: alcoholism

[jumpthegun]

[John licks his lips and glances toward the door. He shouldn't. He doesn't need to. But just a drink. Just one drink... No. No, that's how Harry thinks. 'Just one drink' becomes 'just one more drink.' He gives himself a mental shake.]

You two need to get out of downtown.

[devoutish]

Away from the liquor shops?

[jumpthegun]

Back to people who need your supplies.

[devoutish]

Yeah. Do you know of anyone in the south, at the entrance?

[jumpthegun]

Ginger, America, and England are there. Not sure about anyone else. I think most have come up to the residential area or gone over to the industrial zone.

[devoutish]

Is this because there's nothing to be found down south?

[jumpthegun]

No. I think people are just getting anxious. Those places are a hell of a slog and if we're following the spiral, they're the farthest from the path we need to take.