drwhitly | Closed to formersurgeon

Closed to formersurgeon

Martin Whitly had made a deal with the devil, but he was completely content with that. He had to fake his death with the help of a wealthy professional and relocate to a whole new town. It was still a luxurious lifestyle he was brought into but fairly confined. He would still be used for his skills as a surgeon and a killer, but be paid and housed for it.

He had to wait a few weeks after pretending to be dead - he was sure by then that his ex wife had flushed his ashes down a toilet by this point - before seeking Joan out. He was escorted by the people who had managed to get him out of Claremont and located the place that she had shared with this Sherlock fellow.

He could have spent hours looking through the things collected there, but found his way to her room and stayed there. It wouldn’t do him much good to be spotted by her roommate. His appearance was cleaned up despite his age still showing on his face, but his hair was in better shape. He was still unmistakably him even if he wore a disguise the majority of the time he was in public.

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Now there was a thought. She was still picturing her rendezvous with Martin as being secretive affairs, in the dark or behind closed doors. The idea of the two of them being able to be together, out in the open...

"Wow. I don't know. Maybe somewhere in the Caribbean? I've never been, but I've always wanted to. How about you? Where would you like to go?"

“Ah, the Caribbean, it’s beautiful there.” He spoke as if pulling from a memory.

“Maybe Paris.” He pondered. “Although now you’ve got me thinking of somewhere warm and secluded. Our own little island to do with as we pleased.” He looked to her for a reaction. “We could do what those kids are calling ‘glamping’. Have you heard of it? Fancy camping with indoor plumbing.” Because he really didn’t want to rough it at his age now. Not when he had the means to do otherwise. “I could cook for you, we’d have wine. Just enjoy ourselves.”

"Mmm. That sounds really nice." Joan herself was not exactly a fan of roughing it. She was a little younger than Martin, but not by much, and she appreciated creature comforts far too much to enjoy sleeping in a tent.

"There are private islands for rent in the Caribbean. Which I'm sure you know." Of course, he could probably afford to buy one.

“There sure are,” he agreed. “Ship in some food and just hunker down for a while. Catch fish if we want or just lie around on the beach all day.” Somewhere he had never seen himself returning to.

“We’ll do it one day,” he says with his normal confidence. Rarely did much throw Martin off of his guard seeing that he demanded control from his environment.

“But until then I’ll just have to find us a place of our own.” He gave her a squeeze. “And avoid your roommate.”

"Sounds perfect." Joan was a city girl pretty through and through, but there was definitely something to be said about being able to be with Martin without worrying about him being recognized or her running into someone she knew.

That thought touched off others related to the difficulties of being in a relationship with a presumed dead serial killer. She'd never be able to introduce him to her parents, or her friends, or bring him with her to parties or weddings. She wanted to share her life with him, but even now, with him on the outside, there were significant limits to that. And not just on her side. He doubtless wouldn't be able to tell her anything about his work. Not that she wanted him to.

"Oh...give me a minute." She extricated herself from his arms and went to the door, deadbolting it before returning to his side.

"Just to make sure Sherlock doesn't walk in on us."

Martin certainly had considered over the time that he was locked up, how limited his experiences with any lover would be. He wanted to be in their lives, but knew even now, that the circumstances hadn’t entirely changed. He wanted to meet her coworkers, go to parties and weddings, meet the family, be in her life, be shown off and to show her off. She made quite the piece on his arm and he would have thrived off of that. He was a man who enjoyed monogamy when he found a good partner. It saddened him that they couldn’t be more public without a disguise.

Martin laughed, “If he did would he be the type to turn around immediately or introduce himself to the naked man in your bed?” The respond would say a lot about who he was.

It would have been nice to have a "normal" relationship. But she was more that used to unusual relationships by this point that the difficulties here were far from a deal breaker.

"Oh, you laugh!" she said, amused. "But if Sherlock came in, he would introduce himself, then ask you how many orgasms you'd given me tonight, possibly going on to tell you I need more and you'd better up your game. If he didn't recognize you as the Surgeon first."

Martin kept laughing, “So what you’re saying is that I need to continue to pleasure you all night.” His arms opened to welcome her as she returned to the bed. “Just in case.”

“And what would happen if he did recognize me?” He posed to her, smirking as if having figured out a puzzle. “Are they going to lock me away again? I already served my ‘life sentence’, didn’t I?” That life had ended technically so he didn’t see how he would have to serve any more time.

She smiled and crawled into his arms, then kissed him. "What can I say? It's the only way to be sure."

His second question gave her pause, though. He was playing it for laughs, but beneath that was a deadly serious issue. What would happen?

"Martin? I need you to promise me something."

"It is," He agreed, kissing her back and squeezing her sides.

"Anything, darling." His tone was still light even though he did pick up on her mood shift.

"Promise me you'll never hurt Sherlock."

Sherlock was more than her partner and her roommate. He was her best friend, and she loved him. She would be devastated and feel incredibly guilty if something happened to him as a result of this relationship.

Martin didn’t mean to laugh at her but he was surprised by the request. “I have no reason to even consider it.” He explained, shaking his head. “He’s also really not my type.” Since serial killers typically had one and he knew she knew this; not that it would have stopped a necessary killing, which she also knew.

"I promise I'll never hurt Sherlock." He knew those were the words she needed to hear.

"I don't think you'd target him as the Surgeon," she agreed. "But what happens if he finds out about you? If he finds out you're alive and is going to tell the police?"

He'd have reason to consider it then, wouldn't he?

“Then I’ll have to run,” he figured out loud. “And if you didn’t come with me, I’d never see you again.” Thanks, Sherlock.

“Although- and I’m quoting you - I will defend myself if he attacks me. Then I can’t promise anything, darling.” She has to logically understand that much.

She nodded sadly. "Of course you'd have to defend yourself. I don't think he'd attack you unless he thought you were hurting me. As for going with you..." She shook her head. "I can't. I love you, but my life is here. My partnership with Sherlock...it's extremely important to me. He's extremely important to me. And it's important for you to know that now. I want to be with you, but I can't give that up." She studied his eyes. "Can we make that work?"

Martin looked genuinely disappointed to hear what she shared. Naturally he desired her to be loyal to him. More loyal than to this work partner of hers. After everything he had just gone through, she couldn’t even commit to him in an emergency.

“Then lets never put myself and Sherlock in a position where someone has to call the police.” He concluded to shift the mood. He had a mix of anger and sadness internally, fueling his desire to have all of the attention and control. “Or where you have to...’give up’ anything.” Her words.

Of course, the truth was Sherlock was far more than a work partner. They were not romantically or sexually involved, but their lives were deeply entwined. They were, in a very real sense, life partners. She wanted to be with Martin, but she wasn't going to give up her partnership with Sherlock. She couldn't.

She saw the disappointment, and it made her sad. She understood why he felt that way. He'd been through a lot just to come here and be with her, and that condition on their relationship must have felt like some degree on rejection.

"It's not you," she offered quietly. "If that helps. I hope it never comes to that, and I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't."

“I know.” And he spoke confidently never taking blame for anything he didn’t want to. He also believed the issue was her and Sherlock. Not him.

“And I know that you’re going to keep me informed about your schedule so that I can hopefully know when I’ll see you next.” He didn’t like being at the will of someone else but if he was kept informed he could work with it.

"I will," she promised. "I want to see you as much as possible." She lowered her head and nestled closer to him. "And I want you to spend the night."

She wanted to make that absolutely clear.

Martin paused as if considering her words and how he felt, an act he had perfected over the years. Then he released a sigh as if giving in to her when he truly hadn’t had a desire to leave in the first place.

“I’ll stay then.” He relaxed his body to hold her as they adjusted to become more comfortable. “Because I just want to be with you.”

She smiled to herself as she snuggled closer. She didn't think he would actually leave, but it was still nice to have him say he would stay.

She brushed her fingertips lightly up and down his bare side. "What's it like being free after so long?" she asked softly.

“Unsettling.” He admitted. “It is true that you become somewhat institutionalized. Dependent on the structure and routine that conditions you.”

Her touch was soothing and he breathed easy feeling it. “But I am a kid in a candy shop - not sure what I want to do next, but I want one of everything.

Oh and how I missed the food!” He laughed before adding playfully, “And the unsupervised sex whenever I wanted it.” He kisses her again to emphasize his point t.

She could feel him relax, and she smiled, glad to be putting him at ease. She still had conflicting feelings about the fact that he was free. He definitely deserved to be in jail for the horrible things he did, the 23...and probably more...people he killed in horrible ways. But she couldn't bring herself to want him back there. To see him chained again, tethered to the wall, pale from lack of sunlight and hair on the verge of wild and in those blue scrubs.

She wanted him here, with her, relaxed and warm and safe and free. For some value of "free" at least.

She hummed into that kiss, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. "I won't have to file paperwork requesting permission to visit you," she mused with a smile.

Martin smiled, seeing her highlight how his freedom was positive for both of them. "I'm flattered you did so much paperwork just to come see me." Maybe it wasn't every single time, but he still imagined it was. "What did you tell them the reason was behind, oh, the 5th visit?" Speaking in regards to how she probably had to give the department continuing reasons why she was going to see him.

"Oh, after the third visit or so I wasn't seeing you for a case, so I didn't have to give a reason. At that point it was just a social call." She flashed her eyebrows suggestively. "It was obviously much more than that, but I wasn't about to put 'getting fucked within an inch of my life' on that official yellow hospital form.

The wording might have sounded casual, but it was intentional, part of the attraction of being sexually involved with a serial killer. That he was brutal and violent yet would not harm her, would not kill her.

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