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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Martin wasn’t the type to fend anyone off, he certainly relied far more on his intelligence and tactics to defend himself. However he would do what he could to make Joan feel safe with him. She had gotten past the whole serial killer part so that was certainly a start.

“So she enjoys making this all a game? The plot thickens!” He actually seemed excited by this.

“Well there are easy records of that.” Their visits so he had no doubt someone was keeping an eye on that much. “And why would I have reason to hurt or kill you?” He asked playfully. “I’ve played a long game, why surrender the winnings so abruptly?”

“Are you afraid of her?” He inquired, since he wasn’t for many reasons, but his own inklings didn’t give him a read on Joan. She was pressed against him tightly but that didn’t give him enough data to draw a conclusion. This also coming from a man who had lived with eyes on him 24;7 for 20 years.

"I don't think you'll kill me now," she said, lifting her face to kiss him. "But that first visit, it did cross my mind. It was one of the reasons I reacted badly when you grabbed my throat. I didn't trust you completely yet."

The question of whether she was afraid of Moriarty got a shake of her head. "Not afraid. More angry at her for the things she's put Sherlock through. And worried about what she might do to us." She touched his cheek. "If she doesn't know you're alive already, she will find out eventually. And she won't be above blackmailing one or both of us with the information."

Nodding his head back and forth he reflected on their first encounter. “I supposed that was expected. I think I just got excited.” He looked to her as he explained himself. “I don’t expect everyone will come back so sometimes I get consumed and try to throw everything into one encounter. Tends to be a self fulfilling prophecy really.”

“I’m not worried about her.” He smiled softly to Joan, his hand finding hers. “Maybe she’s crazy about Sherlock but we’re not her targets.” Unless Joan rocked it the boat of things. “We’re going to be fine.” He excuted confidence that could either show that he knew something or that he just was that sure of himself.

"Luckily, you're not going to have that problem anymore," she said with a smile. "Because I'll always come back."

She definitely didn't share his certainty. She knew how Moriarty operated, knew how very interesting she would find the fact that Joan was involved with a serial killer. But she wasn't going to stop seeing him, and he wasn't going to stop seeing her. She'd just have to be vigilant.

She threaded her fingers with his and settled closer.

Martin’s smile widened as she confirmed this. “I know you will and that’s why I adore you.” He did truly trust her and that meant a lot to him.

“Maybe one day we can go somewhere together. Just, you know, anywhere. A vacation, a weekend getaway to somewhere not New York City.” He mused. “I can get some prosthetics for my face or something since I’ve got plenty of time to practice.

“Where would you like to go if we could get out of town, darling?”

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.”

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