IC contact for snowblindrpg

[devoutish]

Yeah?

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

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[jumpthegun]

Because I know you're probably going to want to have this conversation on audio, and I'd rather not have Emily listening in while I freeze to death. Cave-in in Hsiaoke Pass. Didn't make it inside.

@ASolomons; audio

[devoutish]

[There's a longer pause than usual as he hauls himself up, broken ribs and all, to excuse himself to the next room.]

Yeah.

Fucking hell, John.

audio

[jumpthegun]

I was pushing us to move too fast. It was my own damn fault.

[John's voice is noticeably thick, like he's been crying.]

audio

[devoutish]

Are you gonna complain if I tell you to keep yourself as warm as you can?

audio

[jumpthegun]

[There's a mildly hysterical giggle from John.]

No, no, no, no, no. I'm not... No.

[He gets himself under control, but his breathing is shallow for several seconds.]

Sorry. No. I won't complain. No.

audio

[devoutish]

Yeah. All right. Good. Will Sherlock let you touch him, share body heat?

audio (cw: mentions of suicide)

[jumpthegun]

[There's another laugh, this one outright hysterical before John goes silent for nearly a minute.]

He's dead. Committed suicide. He had this idea if he were dead I'd strip him down and slit him open so I could use the warmth inside his body to last the night. I've got hold of him for right now.

[So he's cuddling with a corpse. That's a thing.]

audio

[devoutish]

He--

[What the fuck, Sherlock; that's horrifying.]

Right. All right, then. I'll stay on the line with you.

[jumpthegun]

[Yeah, John thought so, too. This is the man he loves. Just being a bro, trying to sacrifice himself for John in the most traumatizing way possible. As you do.]

We made up. [He'll just... put that in there.] Sort of. I told him I didn't hate him. Bit easier when he was dying to say it, y'know?

[devoutish]

Surely he knew you never really did, yeah?

[jumpthegun]

He's an idiot. [There's a break in John's voice at the end, and he has to clear his throat.] He's really oversensitive about some things. He doesn't care about what people think, but he cares about what I think.

[devoutish]

Yes. I could tell.

But he does know you, doesn't he.

[jumpthegun]

[John's not sure if that 'yes' is in relation to the being an idiot, Sherlock being oversensitive, or the man only caring what John thinks. Maybe all three things.]

Not well enough, apparently, if he thought I was gonna bury my hands in his bloody organs.

[He clamps down for a moment and just breathes.]

Tell me something else. Tell me anything else. Tell me a story. Please, Alfie.

[devoutish]

[There's another pause as Alfie slowly sits down on the living room couch, stifling a groan of pain.]

Of home?

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. Sure.

[He had said anything.]

[devoutish]

All right.

[Home feels so far away that for a moment, it's a little hard to think of anything.]

All right. Yeah.

I've told you I've got two brothers and a sister, yeah? Henry's a year and a half younger than I am. Leah's six years younger. Adam's seven years younger. Now, growing up, Henry and I would go off and do things together. It made sense to us, right - were the big boys, and the two little ones would rightly stay home and play with each other. I'm sure you can imagine what Adam thought of that.

[jumpthegun]

So, he chased after you one day?

[devoutish]

Oh, not just the one day, mate; no, he chased after us every chance he got. But there was one day when he was, oh, seven or so, which would have put Henry and me at thirteen and fourteen. We went out onto the streets and told him to stay put, but he followed - staying a bit behind, in hopes we wouldn't see him. That worked out well enough for him, until we found ourselves on a more crowded street.

[jumpthegun]

[This is a decent distraction from the slowly-cooling corpse of his best friend. John tries to focus on the story, picturing a bustling Victorian street in London in his minds eye, along with a couple of young boys.]

Did he get lost?

[devoutish]

He kept us in his sights, for a time. But then he spotted a boy of my height on a stopped tram, wearing a coat that looked like mine. Quick as could be, he hopped onto that tram just before it started moving. But then, what did he see? Henry and me still on the pavement, making our way through the crowds in the opposite direction, as he was driven away from us.

[jumpthegun]

[John raises a brow.]

Bit more of an adventure than he bargained for, I reckon.

[devoutish]

He shouted to us - "Alfie, Henry, Alfie!" And we turned round and saw him, and started chasing after the tram, cursing him. But we were too far off and it was moving too fast; we weren't gonna catch up with it. So one or the other of us yelled at him to stay on until he saw the Bevis Marks Synagogue, and then hop off as close to it as he could. And we took off on foot.

[jumpthegun]

Was there a stop for the tram there?

[devoutish]

A block away. Not far. But it was a long run for us. He was gonna reach it before we did, and we didn't know if he was gonna sit tight like we'd told him. He was only seven, yeah?

[jumpthegun]

This is where mobile phones would come in handy in the past.

[And why, while it might be fun to visit, John would be thoroughly disinclined to stay in the past anywhere.]