Normally, Sherlock would comment. Normally, with someone he found infuriating, he would point it out, bluntly, both the nervousness and the lie to it - the shaking, reverberating declarations of not only their position but their intent - but he doesn't. He doesn't, because he knows why Punchy doesn't care, and he shares it. He understands it.
He may not be quite the pacifist that Punchy is, but he is determined not to shrink from his death.
Not this time.
And equally determined not to bring it on another.
They're lucky, though, and no one is summoned, no antagonist figures lurk in the shadows, or behind the stairwell doors, and they reach the parking level without incident. Joan and John are still up on the sixth floor, he's been working on his set up without them for a little while, though he's planning on bringing them down soon. As he approaches the car he pulls the keys out of his pocket.
no subject
He may not be quite the pacifist that Punchy is, but he is determined not to shrink from his death.
Not this time.
And equally determined not to bring it on another.
They're lucky, though, and no one is summoned, no antagonist figures lurk in the shadows, or behind the stairwell doors, and they reach the parking level without incident. Joan and John are still up on the sixth floor, he's been working on his set up without them for a little while, though he's planning on bringing them down soon. As he approaches the car he pulls the keys out of his pocket.