I haven’t said anything for thirteen hours.
Haven’t spoken a word.
John went out this afternoon for some shopping, so he hasn’t tried to have a full conversation with me yet. Probably for the best, as I wouldn’t respond to much anything. Verbally, anyway.
To be fair I did warn that I went without talking sometimes. Maybe John will remember that.
And it’s not as if I can give a proper excuse for it. It just…happpens. It’s complicated.
Maybe he’ll understand.
Or maybe he’ll worry. Either option is fine, I suppose. It was going to happen anyway. That’s better than what some people do.
While John was gone I went through my mind palace to find some people I was in contact with in younger years, in order to reach them. It takes a while to get to certain contact slots in my mind, so I haven’t gotten anywhere (or anyone) yet. I’m not ashamed to admit I filed some people far, /far/ away on purpose.
But the more I think about what Moriarty said to me (and believe me, I’d like to state I’m not thinking about him at all. But it would be untrue) the more I realize I need to make sure people in my life are unharmed.
I’m ashamed to admit that John is already one of the people that’s been caught in the crosshairs of Moriarty’s and my…relationship. He was the first person to be taken-and hurt-by Moran and Moriarty. I hate to think anyone else I knew by more than an aquaintance might be involved with Moriarty in some way.
Good or bad.
I haven’t contacted Mycroft yet- I’ve not the patience to deal with his worrying yet, John’s is more than enough, thank you. And I want to do some digging of my own before Mycroft’s office sends me some ungodly thick file folder of information I haven’t even requested yet.
So I’m with my laptop and the tea John made before he left (which has now gone cold). But after finding out some interesting information about who Jim’s been “dating” (I suppose I better make my way to Bart’s to see a certain Molly Hooper sometime soon) I slowly realize that harming people I know isn’t the only way to get to me. Moriarty admitted to knowing of me in University. Meaning anyone I could have known or talked to in length could have given him information. Molly Hooper’s recent dating ventures confirmed that.
After some more research I find that I can barely concentrate.
So before John returns I make sure to double check all the books on the shelves, leafing through the pages and looking at the words. Running the pads of my fingers over the text. And once that is done, I sit in the silence of the flat. One part of me revels in it.
The other part of me is only reminded of recent events, though, and I long for John’s return home.