@LucyLiu  Working w one of my favorites -Jon Michael Hill in the precinct. Day2!  Guess who else is here today @elementary_cbs


"Kitty Winter is Sherlock’s (Jonny Lee Miller) new apprentice in New York who immediately becomes rivals with her predecessor, Joan Watson (Lucy Liu). Kitty’s reasons for undertaking Holmes’ partnership are nebulous, and her new arrangement with Sherlock will have ongoing repercussions for his relationship with Joan."


Adam Levine.

v. injury (+ windows)


written for joanbell fest day six, also with a day five prompt because i felt bad about missing it. also because i have a morbid interest in putting my faves in a lot of pain.

Marcus knew about the risks involved with police work sort of like how he knew about the risks involved with eating raw cookie dough — the risks were always there, but he always figured that if he played it smart he could come out unscathed.

Well. That’s what he used to figure. But of course the risk of getting killed in the line of duty was a far cry from the risk of getting salmonella, and in two years twice he’d seen his life flash before his eyes and he knew better. Still — call it denial, call it whatever you want — a part of him had a hard time coming to terms with the idea that it was something that could happen to someone he cared about.

He was never one to be scared of doctors or hospitals, but after the crises of the past year, he recognized the disconcerting crawl of invisible revulsion up his spine whenever he found himself surrounded by bright white lights and colorful scrubs and the smell of latex gloves. But he pushed down his discomfort, like he always did, because he knew he had the option to walk out whenever he wanted; most of the people in the hospital didn’t.

Joan didn’t.

He had watched her from the hall through the window, nearly pressing against the glass to see through the wire mesh. It was from this vantage point that he had exchanged hurried conversations with Holmes and sent reassuring texts to Gregson updating him on her condition. For hours, it seemed, he had watched her breathing as she slept, took careful note of the steady peaks of the monitor.

A nurse — the nurse who he had exchanged countless nods of greeting with over two days — gave him a sympathetic smile as she passed. “You can go in, you know.”

He knew. “Yeah, thanks,” he answered. He gave her a smile that tasted like cardboard in his mouth.

He wasn’t even sure what was keeping him. The sense of being out of place, maybe, like he was intruding where he wasn’t wanted or needed. Or, even worse, the incessant nagging feeling that somehow somehow it was something that he could have prevented.

But Joan was blinking awake, and whatever had floored Marcus before betrayed him as Joan turned her head to the window. Realizing that he couldn’t duck away this time, he gave in to what he had been aching to do from the beginning despite his reservations, and he pushed the pushed the door open and walked inside.

"Hey," he said, and crossed the room to stand by the side of her cot.

"Hey," Joan managed in response. She shifted, struggling to sit up.

"How you feeling?" he prompted. "Waking up for real this time?"

"M’okay," Joan mumbled. It sounded like a mix between a drawn-out sigh and a groan. "M’all right."

Marcus couldn’t help but give a short, strained laugh. It was so Joan, to sound like she was assuring him that she was fine even when she so obviously wasn’t. He wondered dryly if she’d done the same when she had been kidnapped.

Carefully, to avoid surprising either of them, he slid one hand over hers, running the tips of his fingers over the top of her hand. Joan’s eyes slid down to see, and she smiled faintly as she turned her wrist to snag his hand with her fingers. Marcus held her hand like a lifeline, saying nothing but imagining that everything he couldn’t find the voice to say was being transferred through the surface of their skin — I am so glad that you are okay. I’m sorry.

© tardissauce