consequences of haste

[searchingfordistraction]

He'd intended to refrain from using anything other than telekinesis until he'd got at least the bones of the new system in place, but.

But conversation with the Bar confirmed that Milliways's built-in safeguards would step in to regulate his magic use in lieu of his magic being able to regulate itself. It would, after all, require a remarkable series of stacked coincidences for Milliways to sustain any kind of damage; nothing Jim could do now would be anywhere near enough to set off that kind of cascade.

He still takes the precaution of having a room with extra buffers set up, just in case.

There is, of course, nothing Milliways can do to prevent Jim from injuring himself as he practices, and he finds very quickly that without his own system to guide his focus, his control over anything non-telekinetic is exceedingly poor.

It was worth experimenting with, anyway. And at least the infirmary is handy.

Comments

[searchingfordistraction]

Now who's underestimating him?

He doesn't say it.

Instead he says,

"I think we know different sides of him."

[jumperfucker]

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" asks John.

[searchingfordistraction]

"No," he says, accurately.

[jumperfucker]

"Shame."

[searchingfordistraction]

"It's interesting - well, no, it's not, but it's worth noting that you accuse me of running a con when I've been nothing but honest for this entire conversation," Jim observes.

"You're not paying attention, Dr Watson."

[jumperfucker]

"Well, you'll have to excuse me for not trusting you," John says. "But you've not really given me much of a reason to."

[searchingfordistraction]

"Oh, god no, don't trust me," Jim says, as though the prospect of such a thing is vaguely horrifying and just a touch insulting. "But do listen to me. To me, not the caricature passing for Moriarty that exists in your head."

[jumperfucker]

John fails to see the difference.

"Was that supposed to be reassuring?"

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim rubs his good hand down over his face.

"It's like talking to a rock."

[jumperfucker]

"Maybe you should try it. You might have more luck getting it to believe you."

Maybe John can talk Jim into an early suicide. Not that he'd deliberately try to do such a thing. Oh, no.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim gives the wrapping over the IV catheter a tug. It comes undone far more quickly and neatly than it should be able to do.

"It would be a better use of my time."

[jumperfucker]

John goes right on pretending like this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having.

"I think I saw some outside," he says easily.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim knows, from previous visits, where the bandaging materials are kept. It's almost painfully tempting to reach out telekinetically to tug the drawer open and bring what he wants to him, just to see the look on John Watson's face, but he resists.

He's saving that surprise for Sherlock.

He gets up to go to the drawer himself instead, saying,

"I just hope you remember, when this all goes wrong. At least I tried. It could have been very civilized."

[jumperfucker]

"I'm sure you did," John agrees. He's not actually sure what Jim tried to do, other than wind up up. Which he clearly accomplished. "Unfortunately, I don't negotiate with terrorists."

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim laughs softly as he gets out the materials.

It is, pointedly, an entirely ordinary sound; there's nothing sinister about it at all.

[jumperfucker]

John should be helping, but he'd really rather not. Sorry, Jim.

Instead, he just watches to make sure he's not about to turn around and pull a gun or something mad.

[searchingfordistraction]

Jim removes the catheter and presses a wad of gauze into place to catch the blood. The swap is deft and smoothly made, despite the fact he's doing it one-handed and with his non-dominant hand to boot.

"I wasn't aware your lover's peace of mind was a subject for negotiation at all. What a wonderful relationship that must be."

[jumperfucker]

"You mean like how he's not been sleeping well since meeting you?" asks John. "Right. You're clearly the good guy in all this. How silly of me."

He's still watching Jim, idly wondering about fandom's speculation to his being left-handed. It's entirely possible, he realises, that it's just the actor that is.

[searchingfordistraction]

Along with the gauze, Jim took out a small, sleek tube of something not unlike liquid bandage. He shifts his weight now, turning his back to John dismissively and, not coincidentally, blocking the tube from his view.

It makes it much easier to discreetly pick the tube up with his magic so he can apply its contents without having to put the gauze aside.

[jumperfucker]

John just glares at his back.

"Any time you're read, the door's right there."

[searchingfordistraction]

He pretends to fumble with tube and gauze for the sake of appearances before putting the tube back in the drawer.

The bloodstained gauze he leaves on the counter.

[jumperfucker]

Of course he does. John expected nothing less of him.

[searchingfordistraction]

On his way out, he pauses long enough to look back at John and say,

"Whatever you think it is you've won, it's not going to be worth it."

Then he's gone.

[jumperfucker]

John doesn't bother to reply. He just glares and scowls some more before gloving back up and cleaning up the mess.

Which seems to be his lot in life quite frequently these days.