"Put yourself at the top of that list!" John calls after, and then purses his lips when he realizes everyone is frowning and talking amongst themselves. Some of those talks aren't even remotely nice, however, and his anger flares out at them when he swings the bo staff towards the group and waits for their Marshall to dismiss them. Needless to say, he is unamused by the way this turned out, and the way that Mycroft is looking at him with such a cold calculative stare that it burns him to the core.
He's not a genius, he has no idea that this is exactly the reason he'd been brought back, to save a Marshall's brother from being utterly wasted in R & D. That he'd been misled. That he's being used right now. Right this very second. A pawn. It doesn't matter. It likely wouldn't matter even if he did know.
The conn-pod is so close. He can taste the plasma from the helmet. He can feel the neuro-spinal connector nodes. He can almost sense a drift. The way all of his hairs stand up on the back of his neck and his arms--
He wants this too badly now.
Using the staff now like a cane, he walks slowly towards Mycroft. The air he'd put on hasn't diminished. He stands up straight and as tall as his frame can muster. He's proud, even now.
"Why does everyone say that there's something wrong with him?" he asks. It's probably not that polite.
Mycroft, however, will answer truthfully. "Sherlock can see people for who they are at all times. It's...unnerving."
John arches an eyebrow. "Perception is one thing but--" He doesn't understand. Not yet at least. Not yet. "It doesn't matter. If you need me, I'll be... I don't know."
He does know, though. He's going to pound on Sherlock's door.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-08-05 01:43 pm (UTC)He's not a genius, he has no idea that this is exactly the reason he'd been brought back, to save a Marshall's brother from being utterly wasted in R & D. That he'd been misled. That he's being used right now. Right this very second. A pawn. It doesn't matter. It likely wouldn't matter even if he did know.
The conn-pod is so close. He can taste the plasma from the helmet. He can feel the neuro-spinal connector nodes. He can almost sense a drift. The way all of his hairs stand up on the back of his neck and his arms--
He wants this too badly now.
Using the staff now like a cane, he walks slowly towards Mycroft. The air he'd put on hasn't diminished. He stands up straight and as tall as his frame can muster. He's proud, even now.
"Why does everyone say that there's something wrong with him?" he asks. It's probably not that polite.
Mycroft, however, will answer truthfully. "Sherlock can see people for who they are at all times. It's...unnerving."
John arches an eyebrow. "Perception is one thing but--" He doesn't understand. Not yet at least. Not yet. "It doesn't matter. If you need me, I'll be... I don't know."
He does know, though. He's going to pound on Sherlock's door.