S2 finale spoilers in-thread

[searchingfordistraction]

The key to Jim's room in Milliways seems to have disappeared.

Curious, that.



[OOC: Warnings for drug addiction and abuse, consent issues, and talk of suicide.]

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[consulting_detective]

There's a long pause.

"Yes."

[searchingfordistraction]

"Hmm."

With his free hand, Jim reaches back behind the headboard. There's the faint sound of tape detaching from wood.

Jim produces a small mirror, with a playing card and a tightly-rolled twenty pound note attached to it, which he puts down next to the bag.

The card is the king of hearts.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock pretends very hard not to notice what's going on.

He could get up and walk out of here. He knows he could. The door is right there, not five steps away.





He stays right where he is.

[searchingfordistraction]

One might think it would be awkward, one-handed, in the small space between them, to cut lines of cocaine on a little mirror with a playing card.

Jim does it with grace and ease, his movements almost casual. The surface is more stable than it would seem, with the duvet pulled taut between the weight of their bodies.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock hasn't looked over since Jim put the bag down, but he's still noticing things. Of course he is.

"The king of hearts isn't actually stabbing himself in the head," he says. "He's holding an axe, but the pip gets in the way and the axe isn't drawn in anymore."

[searchingfordistraction]

"There's little point in burning the heart of someone who's already dead," Jim says.

Once he's got the lines organized to his satisfaction, he picks up the twenty pound tube and holds it out to Sherlock.

"I'm assured it's the best," he says, "but people who know what will happen to them if I find out they were lying."

[consulting_detective]

There's a long pause before Sherlock finally pulls his hand free to take the note.

And an even longer pause still while he stares at it.

[searchingfordistraction]

Contrary to the popular opinion he has so carefully created, Jim is perfectly capable of patience. When it's important.

He waits.

[consulting_detective]

"I can't," Sherlock says, watching as his hand trembles. "I can't. I...John...I can't."

And yet, he's still not leaving. Or even putting down the note.

[searchingfordistraction]

"He isn't here," Jim murmurs. "No place like Milliways for anonymity. No one can know who you're with, or what choices you might make. And you can stay here until the effects of those choices are gone. Just us. The only ones who will ever know."

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock shakes his head. Five years. Five fucking years without so much as rolling a spliff. He can't do this.

And yet, despite himself, he finds himself inching ever closer to Jim and the lines drawn on the mirror.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim watches him quietly. Everything about him is neutral - his body language, his expression, everything.

This is Sherlock's decision to make. Jim has merely provided him with the tools with which he might make it.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock might argue that it's not a decision. It's a habit that's been put on the shelf and ignored for a very long time.

And it's just a matter of time before that habit takes over, and almost on autopilot, Sherlock bends down to snort the first line. Even despite his long sobriety, it's a very practised, natural move for him. After all, he's done it thousands of times.

"Fuck!" he shouts, though there's very little anger in it. He drops the note and falls back onto the bed, savouring this feeling.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim stretches lazily, arching his body, and smiling faintly.

His eyes never leave Sherlock.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock lays limply on the bed for a few moments before breaking into a nervous laughter.

"John's gonna be pissed," he says. "I probably shouldn't go home tonight."

Yeah, because that will make things better.

[searchingfordistraction]

"You're welcome to stay here," Jim offers generously. "Since you have a key."

[consulting_detective]

"You must have known I took it," Sherlock says. "I'm really not that good."

He twists the rolled-up note in his fingers, vaguely contemplating at the second line.

[searchingfordistraction]

"Of course I knew," he says. "I wanted to find out why. So I let you."

To find out why, among other things.

[consulting_detective]

"I don't know why. I guess I wanted to see what you'd do."

This was not what he expected, but he's hardly complaining now. Sherlock moves to do the second line, but thinks twice and offers the note to Jim instead.

After all, it would be rude to do all of the man's coke.

[searchingfordistraction]

He waves it away with a small smile, murmuring,

"No, no. It's a gift."

And it's a bit late to look for the strings that have come attached to this gift, so Sherlock may as well enjoy it.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock still stands by his original assessment. There are rules in place to protect him from people like Jim, and if Jim wanted him dead, he'd have done it already.

Whether or not there are rules about getting high around here, well... if there are, Sherlock was never made aware of them.

The second line is gone just as easily as the first, and any unpleasant sensations from snorting them are already being overpowered by everything else.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim smiles, murmuring something under his breath.

It sounds a lot like good boy.

[consulting_detective]

Sherlock drops the note and rubs his face against the pillow. It's not quite what he wants, but he'll have to wait until he works out what it is he does want before he can get it.

"Am I?" he asks.

Oh, apparently he heard that, Jim.

[searchingfordistraction]

"For my purposes," he says. "Some might disagree."

[consulting_detective]

"Mmm."

Sherlock suddenly reaches for Jim's free hand and presses his cheek to Jim's palm. He's in bad need of a shave, which will only get worse as the evening progresses, but all he cares about right now is the contact.