College is a little less stressful and uni interviews are halfway through, so this bitch is back for the time being!
Plus I missed you all too much.
Pretty pretty please can you send me any links to RP’s because my notification thing is dead and I only have two drafts.
Also I love you and thank you to those who stuck by me even though I’ve been awol for months.
Oh look, the rain has stopped. I think this calls for a celebration.
Anyone with me?
Sighing, Jo slipped beneath the sheets, pressing a kiss to Johanna’s forehead. “Alright, you win. But you can phone Sarah and explain that you’re not letting me out of bed,” she chuckled, pleased that her movements no longer mirrored that of a knife stabbing into her.
"Alright," Johanna smiled and leaned over the side of the bed to pull out her phone from the drawer on the bedside table. "Jo you just stay in bed, okay?" She asked and adjusted her girlfriend’s pillows once before slipping out of bed and into the hallway. Leaning against the wall as she carried out the conversation as quietly as she possibly could.
Chuckling softly, Jo breathed in her wife’s scent, sighing happily. Sometimes, it was almost worth the pain just to spend the time with her. Wincing as her shoulder gave a twinge, Joanna reached over for her painkillers. Two more wouldn’t hurt. Exceptional circumstances, after all. Keeping an eye on the bedroom door, she swallowed the extra pills. It would stop Johanna worrying.
johannaof221b asked: ☤ OR ❊
"Why can’t everyone just drive on the same side of the road? Why do they have to make it difficult for people?" Jo growled irritably as she pulled over to get her bearings. They had travelled to Boston for a medical conference and Jo and Johanna were having trouble getting used to driving.
"Do you want me to drive for a bit?"
"No, it’s fine. I just need to get my bearings. I’m not used to this at all." Jo stared out of the window, watching the other drivers, annoyed that they found it so easy. Being jet lagged didn’t help either.
"Er, Jo, we’re going to be late." Johanna murmured, checking her watch.
"Ah Christ. Right, okay. Let’s try again, shall we?" Jo signaled and pulled out into the traffic, doubly terrified at going on the highway in heavy traffic. If she thought driving in London was bad, Boston was ten times worse at least.
"People around here are so damn rude," she muttered irritably, wanting nothing more than to sleep.
Indicating to turn off the highway, Jo glanced up at the signposts. They were going the right way at least. That was something.
"Left here," Johanna piped up, reading the directions from the pile of papers the conference organizers had sent them.
"I know, love, I know," Jo pulled out carefully and didn’t notice the SUV coming towards them, tired as she was.
The force of the impact shunted the car and sent it spinning, making Jo’s head reel. Oh God, this was not supposed to happen. Her seatbelt bit into her chest, her neck crying out against the sudden movement. The hire car rolled over and she found herself being pinned upside down in her seat, until the pain took over and she blacked out.
Jo sighed as Johanna lay down and shifted so that she could wrap an arm around her wife. “Johanna, love. We’ve been in this situation before. If we could recover from the shoulder, you can recover from this. You know I’ll be here through it all.”
Jo sat back, breathing slowly. Now that there was no morphine, the pain had come flooding back and she was struggling to cope with it. “Oh great. She’ll come blustering in wanting to sue somebody.” Admittedly though, Joanna was glad that Holly was coming. They had been far closer to death than they had in a long time, and it had put everything into perspective.
"She already told me we weren’t allowed to drive a car for years." Johanna sighed and fussed over her wife’s IV drips. "You know she’s going to want to snuggle you. And it’ll be worse than usual."
Jo watched Johanna, knowing that it was a displacement activity for her anxiety. God only knew she wanted something of her own to do. “Oh dear Lord. In that case I want a warning and a huge dose of morphine beforehand to prepare myself,” she joked.
((So basically Tumblr seems to have eaten my notifications. If I owe you a reply,m please let me know. I’m trying to get them done tonight.))
Jo sipped at the water, sighing as it helped cool her down and ease her discomfort slightly. Settling down, she winced. With any luck, she would soon be far along enough to have an epidural to ease the pain.
"Get comfy, ‘Lock. We’ll be here for a while," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment.
Sherlock shook his head, finally taking a seat to the chair next to her bed. “Don’t mind me. Just take a rest, Jo. I’ll watch over you.” The detective whispered.
Though uneasy as he was when he’s in a hospital, he tried to calm himself and sit still. Jo doesn’t need to see it right now and so he composes himself and try to think of something else. Like her and their incoming firstborn.
Joanna smirked slightly. She knew him too well by this point not to notice the poorly camouflaged anxiety in his tone. Reaching a hand out, she brushed her thumb across his knuckles.
"You know, it’s meant to be the mother that panics," she joked, trying to put him at ease.
"Definitely not laughing. I had a tickle in my throat," she shot back with a grin, shrugging on her jacket. Really, the thought of Greg in a dress was hilarious. Perhaps she should try it when they went out drinking next. He had far too many embarrassing pictures of her. It was time she set the record straight.
"It’s hardly the most difficult thing I’ve ever done before. Should be easy."
"I believe you." He said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. He was determined not to let her do anything to embaress him.
"Youll be fine!" Nothing ever went 100% correctly, but he did verge on the side of optimism to make him feel better. The fact that it should be, doesn’t mean in will be easy.
Smirking, she pulled out a compact mirror, tugging on a loose strand of hair and checking her lipstick. Really, she didn’t like dressing up this much. A dress was fine, but she felt like a clown under all the make up that she never usually wore.
"Of course I will be. I survived Afghan, didn’t I? Come on, we’re not getting any younger. You especially."
Jo squeaked slightly as Sherlock took her hand, before chuckling as he argued with the priest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps they would get on after all.
She made an indignant sort of noise in her throat when she was addressed as Joanna Henrietta. She didn’t like it one bit. Her name was Jo, thank you very much. Joanna Henrietta was some old, higher class woman, not her. Not coming from her family, anyway.
"I hate being called Joanna," she muttered mulishly.
The priest looked exasperated this time, Sherlock quirked a brow, looking amuse. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so bad, after all. He could get used to that snark, as long as she was clever with it. He listened lazily as the priest quickly moved through the rest of the ceremony and concluded it.
"You may now kiss the bride," the priest informed Sherlock, and he gave a mild sigh as he leaned in and kissed her gently, pulling back after a moment to let the wedding proceed. It all couldn’t be over quick enough in his opinion, and as the party went on, Sherlock waited for the guests to begin getting distracted to pull his new wife over.
"So, might as well get to know one another," Sherlock mused, leading her into an empty room and shutting out the noise. Setting his glass of champagne on a table, he sighed and rubbed his temples, relieved to find a break from all the chaos.
Joanna folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. She was hopeless in situations like this. New people, not knowing what to say. Glancing up, she saw him rub his temples and frowned sympathetically.
"Headache? It’s pretty loud in there." She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the faint music to wash over her and the sound of a hundred voices rising and mingling as one. Letting out a sigh, she opened her eyes again.
"Just so you know, I’m not going to change who I am for you. I’m not going to turn into this obsequient little housewife who prepares dinner every night and churns out little brats. That is not and never will be me." Emily Watson would probably have killed her for saying that, but it was true. Maybe one day, with someone she had fallen in love with, but not with this stranger.
"I listen to loud music when I clean and I can’t dance or sing but I try to anyway. I like to sleep late and if you wake me in the middle of the night or too early in the morning I will probably hit you or at the very least be grumpy with you. I drink out of the carton and always forget to rinse out the bath after I use it." She rattled of her worst habits, not sure whether she was warning her new husband (she was still trying to get used to calling him that) or trying to put him off.