Sherlock was still giggling even as she put his pancakes down in front of him, maybe from his stupid joke or the fact that he was so excited about pancakes that he was going a bit insane. John thanked her and tried to look a little bit civilized until she walked away, and as soon as no one was judging him he picked up his cheeseburger and began to eat like a ravenous dog, devouring the thing as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Sherlock was eating his pancakes even as he took the time to butter them, ripping off chunks and stuffing them in his mouth as he lathered the pancakes with syrup and butter, cutting them into very symmetrical pieces before stabbing through all three at once and beginning to eat. John was done first, picking off the last of his fries and scraping the salt off of the wrapper with his finger, watching as Sherlock dipped his pancake in as much syrup as he could manage.
"Well, that hit the spot." John decided as soon as Sherlock had finished, looking down at his empty plate with disappointment, as if wishing the pancakes would reappear and he could eat them again.
"If only we could have dessert." He muttered with a sigh, looking at John with puppy eyes. John just shushed him, making sure the old people weren't watching them once more.
"Sherlock, we're on a budget. Be happy that we're going to get a hotel room tonight." John snapped. Sherlock sighed, but nodded, dipping his spoon in the excess syrup and drinking it like soup. Even though John respected his hunger and devotion to food he still had to gag at how obscenely disgusting that was. When they got the check John was happy to see that they had just enough to cover it, and collected what little change they had left and shoved it in his pockets, thanking the waitress before they left because he felt bad for not leaving a tip. They recovered their bags from outside in the shrubs, squinting against the contrast of the darkness and the neon lights as they searched for a little motel that could get them by for the night. It was a small little town, with houses lining the streets and little shops and restaurants. Most of the stores were closed, but the street lights lit the way just enough for them to see.
"Where to now?" Sherlock muttered, looking down the road with a yawn. Now that they had finally eaten they were starting to feel extra tired, John's legs were starting to feel like led now that all of that hiking finally caught up with him.
"I don't know, maybe we can ask the people inside for directions." He suggested.
"You think they have a motel around here? Doesn't look too touristy." Sherlock muttered.
"I'm sure they do, they probably get truck drivers and stuff." John shrugged, but he wasn't sure. He was just trying to keep Sherlock's spirits up and trying to suppress his own doubts.
"Here, you watch the bags; I'll go in and ask." John decided.
"I can come with you." Sherlock offered, but John just shook his head.
"No, stay with the bags, it'll take three seconds." John assured, handing Sherlock his duffle bag and stepping back inside of the restaurant. The waitress looked rather annoyed to see that he was back, probably because she had to actually get up and do something.
"Could you possibly tell me where the nearest motel is?" John wondered with a friendly enough smile.
"We've got one on the edge of town, just a little ways down Second Street." She muttered, pointing a finger towards were the kitchen was as if that was in some way supposed to help John with directions.
"Alright, thanks." John muttered, turning to leave.
"Hey, is he...was he...dead?" she wondered, nodding at Sherlock, who was sitting on the steps outside the diner. John looked at her with a bit of a harsh glare, as if challenging her to say anything negative.
"Yes, so?" John snapped.
"You better watch him, they're going crazy all over town, the disease is spreading." She pointed out. John turned to face her again, now the slightest bit intrigued.
"What do you mean? Not by the air?" he wondered. She shrugged, popping a bubble in her gum as if that was a reasonable answer.
"I don't know, but it seems like all of the town dead people have bitten or killed at least one person, and then they're biting their coroners or their gravediggers, it's getting out of hand." she pointed out.
"Do you know the symptoms?" John wondered. She just shrugged, craning her neck to try to get a better view of Sherlock through the glass door, who was just sitting and minding his own business, unaware that they were talking about him.
"I don't know, just be careful. Why are you two out here anyway, I don't recognize you from school." She muttered, looking him over as if wondering how she managed to miss him.
"We're not from around here, we sort of...ran. They wanted to lock him up in some asylum to make sure he didn't attack anyone, and I couldn't let that happen." John shrugged, looking at the ground rather nervously, asking himself why he had told her the truth. It would've been much easier to say that they were visiting family in the area. But the girl still looked as bored as ever, smacking her gum once more and clicking the pen against the penny bowl.
"What is he, your best friend? Cousin?" she asked.
"Boyfriend." John shrugged. She finally showed some emotion, her eyes got a little bit wide in surprise.
"You don't look the type." She decided, but she sounded proud, as if she didn't expect anyone to fly under her gaydar.
"Ya, well, looks can be deceiving. Thanks for directions." John decided, and with that he grabbed a handful of the mints and walked out of the restaurant. As soon as the door opened Sherlock got to his feet, looking at John expectantly.
"Any luck?" he wondered with a hopeful little smile, yawning widely once more and rubbing his temples.
"Ya, Second Street, that way." John muttered, pointing towards the restaurant as well, the same lousy directions the waitress shad given him. "Mint?" John wondered, holding out his hand that was filled with little peppermints. Sherlock took one gratefully, opening the wrapped and popping it into his mouth.
"I feel miserable, I'm tired but I know I'm not going to be able to sleep." He groaned.
"Well, maybe tonight's the night?" John suggested. Sherlock shrugged, lumbering on down the deserted road and crunching down on his mint.
"I doubt it." he muttered. "My soul is tired, but my body is as well, my limbs feel like iron but my eyelids aren't even dropping."
"We'll figure it out, alright? Maybe you'll be tired enough to at least close your eyes for a while." John assured. Sherlock just sighed doubtfully, but nodded.
"Maybe." He muttered. They followed the waitress's directions and were pleasantly surprised to see that when they followed Second Street they did indeed find a little motel, with a big sign advertising for rooms for only thirty bucks a night. John looked a bit hesitantly at Sherlock, but he looked so tired and so miserable that he almost had to book a room, just for the sake of Sherlock's optimism. This trip wasn't going to be only diner food and cheap motels, tonight was the luxury night, and as soon as there were signs of cops in the area John was fully prepared to retreat back into the woods, where they might be able to take cover a bit more effectively. So they booked a room with some spare cash they had in their bags, thankfully the hotel man didn't ask any questions, and got the keys to their rooms, dragging their bags down the sidewalk to their room and unlocking the door. John wasn't expecting much, maybe two little beds and a bathroom, but when he opened the door he was very unpleasantly surprised. There were two beds with very boring, grey blankets that looked as if they hadn't been washed since the nineties, a small bedside table with so many chips and cracks in it John was amazed it was even standing. There was a small little lamp on the table but when John turned on the light it was so dim that the light of the moon was almost brighter. He closed and locked the door with the pathetic little deadbolt, walking inside and throwing his bag on one of the beds.
"Well then, I see why it's only thirty bucks." Sherlock muttered, sitting down on one of the beds and running his hand over the cheap material.
"Better than under a bridge." John decided. Sherlock nodded doubtfully, but opened his bag, throwing all the loose cash onto the bed and then the blanket and pillow, both of which were soaking wet from the river water.
"Alright, we'll hang those up in the bathroom over night to dry." John decided, watching as Sherlock dumped them onto the floor. He pulled out the gun next, making sure the shells were still dry and usable (thank god they were) and set it next to the nightstand. John went through his own bag as well, happy to see that most of his clothes were only slightly damp and everything but his phone had survived the plunge. He wasn't quite sure why he still had his phone, maybe it was because it had sentimental value, or that it was just a habit to keep that little phone in his back pocket at all times. As Sherlock showered John counted up their money, and all in all they had one hundred thirty three dollars, which was a surprisingly reassuring amount of money. That was enough for a cheap breakfast and maybe some necessities. If they were going to go off to the woods John wanted to have a lighter for fires, maybe a flashlight or something to scare away bears. Of course they needed to bring food along with them, canned food so that they could just eat a can and keep moving, it was something he'd have to talk to Sherlock about, just to make sure he was making the right choices with what little money they had. John considered calling someone, just to tell them that they were alive and they were safe, but he couldn't think of anyone to call. His family and Sherlock's family were definitely out of the question, but if he could somehow get in touch with Greg or something, someone the cops wouldn't think to interrogate, someone who could pass along the message verbally. He'll have to ask Sherlock about that as well, to see whether or not it was worth the risk. Honestly their first day on the run could've been worse. They got away from the cops, had a nice near death experience, had a wicked good bacon cheeseburger, it wasn't all that bad. And Sherlock was safe which was pretty much the only thing that mattered. When Sherlock was done he walked out of the bathroom, steam from the warm water wafting out with the harsh white light, a white towel draped across his neck to collect any water from his dripping curls. He was wearing his usual pajamas, a plain white tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, but for some reason he looked so much more casual, so much more peaceful than John had ever seen him. Maybe it was just the lack of dirt and mud smeared across his face.
"Alright then, your turn." He decided. John nodded, grabbing his clothes and taking the world's best most satisfying shower. There was thick layer of sweat, dust, dirt, and diner grime on his skin, and once he washed the river water out of his hair and the mud from underneath his fingernails, well, he felt like a completely new person, as if he had risen from the dead as well. When he finally brushed his hair with one of Sherlock's hair brushes and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he had packed he walked out into the room once more, where Sherlock was once more reading that book of detective stories, sitting against the headboard of that crappy little bed with his wet curls drooping along his forehead.
"That felt amazing." John decided with a pleasant sign, hanging his towel up on the towel rack and walking over to collect the wet blankets and pillows. When he had finally hung them up on the shower curtain rod (which was no simple task, believe me), he turned off the light and walked over to where Sherlock was sitting.
"Something new happen since the last time you read it?" John teased, throwing his duffel bag on the ground and sitting on the bed next to Sherlock, completely ignoring the other bed.
"It calms me down I suppose." He shrugged, closing the book and setting it on the nightstand.
"I remember when you read me those stories; the first time your mom let me stay the night." John said with a smile. Sherlock just laughed as he burrowed under the covers, repositioning his pillow more comfortably under his head. It was a small bed, made for only one, so it was a bit difficult for the two of them to fit comfortably under the blankets and ever more difficult for John to fit another pillow.
"Didn't she come in every five minutes throughout the whole night, just to make sure we weren't up to no good?" Sherlock wondered, giggling a little and staring into John's eyes from where his head lay on the pillow. He looked truly beautiful; it was that look of carelessness, of peacefulness that just gave him the most illuminating glow of beauty.
"That was a long night." John agreed with a laugh.
"Seems like we're going to have a lot of those coming up." Sherlock muttered, his smile fading a little bit as the circumstances crept back up on them. John sighed in agreement, taking one of Sherlock's hands and lacing their fingers together once more. That seemed to calm them both down.
"But we'll get through it. Together." John assured.
"Just because we have the power of love on our side doesn't mean we can survive this alone." Sherlock insisted.
"We'll do our best, but we're not going to put our lives in danger. We won't starve to death, we won't freeze to death, if worse comes to worse we'll go to some distant relative, or a friend of a friend. But for now we need to stay low, alright, we need to be careful." John insisted.
"What if I turn?" Sherlock wondered fearfully. "What if I hurt you?"
"You're not going to turn." John assured. Sherlock nodded, but they both knew that John's assurance wasn't going to stop that disease from consuming his brain.
"Well, goodnight." He muttered, leaning over and turning off the lamp.
"Goodnight Sherlock." John agreed, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's thin form and holding him as close as he could. It seemed like as soon as the light went out John fell asleep, all this running around finally taking its toll, but as tired as Sherlock was, and as much as his body ached and his head throbbed, his eyes remained open all night.