Dr. John H. Watson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theblogger) wrote2014-03-08 05:48 pm
theblogger) wrote2014-03-08 05:48 pm
Entry tags:
Appointments
Games: Ataraxion and Luceti
Please indicate the date and the game you're from in the subject line!
Games: Ataraxion and Luceti
Please indicate the date and the game you're from in the subject line!
[ Have a flat look, Sherlock. That's what you're going for? ]
All cigarettes are shit. Besides, it's good enough for you. I don't see why I deserve any better.
[ And John doesn't mean to pick up the habit. He doesn't want to do this. But he will.
His fingers twitch and extend toward the matches, but he doesn't reach. Sherlock will have to give them to him. ]
All cigarettes are shit. Besides, it's good enough for you. I don't see why I deserve any better.
[ And John doesn't mean to pick up the habit. He doesn't want to do this. But he will.
His fingers twitch and extend toward the matches, but he doesn't reach. Sherlock will have to give them to him. ]
[...Damn it.]
Good enough for a smoker who hasn't had one for awhile. Not something to start on.
[But it's weak. He knows it's weak.
It's not that he objects to John smoking. Not really. But John doesn't approve of smoking. So him picking up the habit... or even acting like he intends to pick up the habit.
Why should he care? He's always firmly told his flatmate (while sometimes listening to him, nonetheless) that what he does is none of John's business.
The reverse should be true.]
You won't like them.
Good enough for a smoker who hasn't had one for awhile. Not something to start on.
[But it's weak. He knows it's weak.
It's not that he objects to John smoking. Not really. But John doesn't approve of smoking. So him picking up the habit... or even acting like he intends to pick up the habit.
Why should he care? He's always firmly told his flatmate (while sometimes listening to him, nonetheless) that what he does is none of John's business.
The reverse should be true.]
You won't like them.
Does it matter?
[ This is a development, or at least John is reading it as one. He doesn't think the other man would have protested months ago to this. He doesn't think Sherlock would have cared enough. But he will now, or that's what John thinks. And whatever Sherlock chooses to do about the matter may be telling to them both. ]
[ This is a development, or at least John is reading it as one. He doesn't think the other man would have protested months ago to this. He doesn't think Sherlock would have cared enough. But he will now, or that's what John thinks. And whatever Sherlock chooses to do about the matter may be telling to them both. ]
I wouldn't let a non-drinker start with Corona.
[That's his argument: If you're going to have a first something, it should be good.]
[That's his argument: If you're going to have a first something, it should be good.]
It's not the first time I've smoked.
[ College absolutely counts. What now, Sherlock? ]
[ College absolutely counts. What now, Sherlock? ]
You don't need to smoke.
[But he does. Needs to think. Needs to sort out the thoughts that he can't discuss. Figure out what to do about Moriarty, how much can be done without bringing John into it.
Without risking his friend more than necessary.]
[But he does. Needs to think. Needs to sort out the thoughts that he can't discuss. Figure out what to do about Moriarty, how much can be done without bringing John into it.
Without risking his friend more than necessary.]
If you smoke, I smoke.
[ There it is, Sherlock, this much and more out in the open. No more argument: this is how it's going to be so far as John is concerned. Now is the time for a decision. His hand is open. ]
[ There it is, Sherlock, this much and more out in the open. No more argument: this is how it's going to be so far as John is concerned. Now is the time for a decision. His hand is open. ]
[He's half tempted to give John the matches and watch him try to smoke the cigarette Sherlock already knows will be a disappointment to him and likely a choking hazard to John.
...Okay, so probably not that bad, but still...
If he doesn't hand over the matches and instead hands over the cigarette he's holding... John wins, and he's revealed more than he likes.
If he does hand over the matches and smokes a cheap American cigarette with John... he's still lost.
Damn it, John.
He says nothing, keeping his eyes locked on John.
Are we really going to do this?]
...Okay, so probably not that bad, but still...
If he doesn't hand over the matches and instead hands over the cigarette he's holding... John wins, and he's revealed more than he likes.
If he does hand over the matches and smokes a cheap American cigarette with John... he's still lost.
Damn it, John.
He says nothing, keeping his eyes locked on John.
Are we really going to do this?]
[ John is aware of the position he's putting Sherlock in. It's a game of hands now, if even that. He'll meet the other's stare, steady, waiting.
Looks like. ]
Looks like. ]
[Fine.
The matches are between fore and middle finger of his right hand, almost as if to be offered out... then it's back into his pocket.
He hasn't let go of his cigarette, though.]
The matches are between fore and middle finger of his right hand, almost as if to be offered out... then it's back into his pocket.
He hasn't let go of his cigarette, though.]
[ Fine.
The top of the cigarette pack is thumbed open, and the cigarette between his fingers holding it, but John doesn't replace it. He also doesn't drop his open hand. Something needs to go there. ]
The top of the cigarette pack is thumbed open, and the cigarette between his fingers holding it, but John doesn't replace it. He also doesn't drop his open hand. Something needs to go there. ]
[Sherlock looks at John's hand, then at John's eyes.
He changes his hold on the cigarette, about two things from the end he'd light. One nail sort of pressing into the paper but not enough to break it. Not yet.
Another offer at compromise. This one entirely silent.]/small>
He changes his hold on the cigarette, about two things from the end he'd light. One nail sort of pressing into the paper but not enough to break it. Not yet.
Another offer at compromise. This one entirely silent.]/small>
[ John's eyes go from Sherlock's to the man's hand and his silent proposal. After a moment's consideration, his own grip on his cigarette shifts to mirror Sherlock's. ]
[...Fine.
Fine.
With all due reluctance, the whole cigarette is put in John's hand. Sherlock's expression? Not a happy genius.
Not happy at all.
There will be sulking involved. And plotting how to get that box back. Without John noticing.]
Fine.
With all due reluctance, the whole cigarette is put in John's hand. Sherlock's expression? Not a happy genius.
Not happy at all.
There will be sulking involved. And plotting how to get that box back. Without John noticing.]
[ There's a blink as the cigarette lands in his palm, a few milliseconds of staring at it before John's eyes move up to Sherlock's face. This had been a possibility, but not what John had expected. For a moment, the former soldier's expression is quite open with shock. The detective is playing his part, looking well and truly miffed at him for being denied the pacifier. John's role is to play a man who expected this outcome all along, because it was the right thing to do, but it's just not working out. He's touched.
His fingers fumble slightly replacing the cigarettes in their pack, and he drops his eyes awkwardly to pay attention to what the hell he's doing. His throat feels thick, so he clears it, softly. Instinct to not make a scene very quickly makes him move away from the window, though not... without reaching out to brush a hand across the other man's shoulder as he passes. ]
Dinner?
His fingers fumble slightly replacing the cigarettes in their pack, and he drops his eyes awkwardly to pay attention to what the hell he's doing. His throat feels thick, so he clears it, softly. Instinct to not make a scene very quickly makes him move away from the window, though not... without reaching out to brush a hand across the other man's shoulder as he passes. ]
Dinner?
[Sherlock tells himself that he will simply find the pack later and sneak one of the cigarettes. John's mind isn't as acute. He won't remember that there's only one missing (smoked by the pack's previous owner, not by the detective) instead of two.
He'll sneak one in the middle of the night, smoke it outside. On the roof. Yes. It's decided. On the roof. He still has to prove to himself that he's not going to flinch away from heights, or train himself out of it if he does.
The question, though, pulls him out of one thought and into another. A thought about the mobile in the drawer. Of blood-red lips. His answer is automatic.]
I'm not hungry.
[And in a heartbeat, he remembers where he is and who he's talking to, and the tone is a little more relaxed. Somewhat more natural.]
I'll grab something later.
He'll sneak one in the middle of the night, smoke it outside. On the roof. Yes. It's decided. On the roof. He still has to prove to himself that he's not going to flinch away from heights, or train himself out of it if he does.
The question, though, pulls him out of one thought and into another. A thought about the mobile in the drawer. Of blood-red lips. His answer is automatic.]
I'm not hungry.
[And in a heartbeat, he remembers where he is and who he's talking to, and the tone is a little more relaxed. Somewhat more natural.]
I'll grab something later.
You're busy now?
[ Skeptical if curious. That box goes into his inner jacket pocket for now. Sherlock will try to lift it from him later - he can guess that. He'll have to think of somewhere good to put it, but for now he'll just be patting his pocket if Sherlock gets close or tries to leave the flat. ]
[ Skeptical if curious. That box goes into his inner jacket pocket for now. Sherlock will try to lift it from him later - he can guess that. He'll have to think of somewhere good to put it, but for now he'll just be patting his pocket if Sherlock gets close or tries to leave the flat. ]
There's no Italian here. Or Chinese.
[It doesn't really matter, but it's easier than repeating that he's not hungry. Because then John will just argue with him about how he should eat something anyway.
And he will eventually to pacify the doctor.
But it is a thought he can't help. There's a Chinese restaurant on Baker Street. Open until 2. And there's Angelo's.
...It's as close as he'll come to admitting to homesickness.]
[It doesn't really matter, but it's easier than repeating that he's not hungry. Because then John will just argue with him about how he should eat something anyway.
And he will eventually to pacify the doctor.
But it is a thought he can't help. There's a Chinese restaurant on Baker Street. Open until 2. And there's Angelo's.
...It's as close as he'll come to admitting to homesickness.]
[ There is a familiarity to that question, followed by the familiar hesitance of whether or not Sherlock is having him on. No matter what he says, it will pale in comparison to what Sherlock is capable of calculating. John is logical and intelligent, but he's no genius. How he truly contributes to the other man's processes has always been a mystery to him, and often Sherlock outright informs him he's been ridiculous or missing steps. Still... he won't deny the man an answer. ]
There's something definitely off about it. There's a lot of... mismatch, I suppose.
[ There's a brief squint as he tries to think of how to phrase an instinct. ]
Everyone I've met seems pleasant, over all, once you move past some of the stranger things. Even if we're supposed to be meant for war, though, I haven't seen a lot of soldiers and I've only met a few doctors. Mostly it seems more like a... A zoo.
[ Is that what you were looking for, Sherlock? ]
That's it there. O-- The building.
[ He gestures to the shape of the community house up the way. Just a bit further, Sherlock. ]
There's something definitely off about it. There's a lot of... mismatch, I suppose.
[ There's a brief squint as he tries to think of how to phrase an instinct. ]
Everyone I've met seems pleasant, over all, once you move past some of the stranger things. Even if we're supposed to be meant for war, though, I haven't seen a lot of soldiers and I've only met a few doctors. Mostly it seems more like a... A zoo.
[ Is that what you were looking for, Sherlock? ]
That's it there. O-- The building.
[ He gestures to the shape of the community house up the way. Just a bit further, Sherlock. ]
Pasta's easy enough to cook.
[ Feeding Sherlock is actually not the issue here. It is an issue, one that John keeps track of more readily than he does the days at times, but not one he'll push. He's not pushing. He's pushed enough. What he's trying to offer is to do. Not an offer to feed, but an offer to cook for. Gratitude is... odd between them. ]
[ Feeding Sherlock is actually not the issue here. It is an issue, one that John keeps track of more readily than he does the days at times, but not one he'll push. He's not pushing. He's pushed enough. What he's trying to offer is to do. Not an offer to feed, but an offer to cook for. Gratitude is... odd between them. ]
Edited 2012-04-30 10:52 (UTC)
["It's not about the food."
The words are on the tip of his tongue. Sharp, dismissive. But they both already know it.
He's homesick. Not just for London, no. Because even in London, he couldn't sit down at Angelo's and have a dish he'd only eat maybe a fifth of. He couldn't even show up at the door late at night and get a box of take-away. ...Well, he could. But he worried that Angelo would tell John, wanting to help. If John even went around that place any more. Why would he?
And John... John is being tolerate. He's won. Rare enough. But he's not holding it over him. Why? Because John doesn't want a fight? It's been thirty-five days since they walked to 2-21 from the Clinic, two days since the row on the way here. Since Sherlock made it clear he wouldn't return in London and John delivered a deserved blow.
Since then... What? They've been sort of, in their own way, trying not to argue. There's been no shouting over the cigarettes.
To entirely dismiss the offer would be... Sherlock can't find the word, but he's not eager to be what it would make him. So he nods faintly, just once.]
Might eat a bit.
[He never ate much, but he could make a proper effort at it since John was putting himself out.]
The words are on the tip of his tongue. Sharp, dismissive. But they both already know it.
He's homesick. Not just for London, no. Because even in London, he couldn't sit down at Angelo's and have a dish he'd only eat maybe a fifth of. He couldn't even show up at the door late at night and get a box of take-away. ...Well, he could. But he worried that Angelo would tell John, wanting to help. If John even went around that place any more. Why would he?
And John... John is being tolerate. He's won. Rare enough. But he's not holding it over him. Why? Because John doesn't want a fight? It's been thirty-five days since they walked to 2-21 from the Clinic, two days since the row on the way here. Since Sherlock made it clear he wouldn't return in London and John delivered a deserved blow.
Since then... What? They've been sort of, in their own way, trying not to argue. There's been no shouting over the cigarettes.
To entirely dismiss the offer would be... Sherlock can't find the word, but he's not eager to be what it would make him. So he nods faintly, just once.]
Might eat a bit.
[He never ate much, but he could make a proper effort at it since John was putting himself out.]
((after this post))
[Medbay is BORING. Medbay is the worst. Sure, it was maybe Wheatley's fault a little bit for nearly getting himself killed, but that doesn't to stop him from spending every waking bedridden moment voicing his complaints about the situation.
If he had his cube, he thinks, it would be better. Less mind-numbingly dull, for one--without it, there's nothing to do but sit around and WALLOW IN HIS OWN MISERY.
But enough of that. What he does, instead, is turn all his attentions (and frustrations) to his communicator, leaving a certain test subject a series of increasingly unstable voicemails.
There is clearly nothing wrong with that.]
[Medbay is BORING. Medbay is the worst. Sure, it was maybe Wheatley's fault a little bit for nearly getting himself killed, but that doesn't to stop him from spending every waking bedridden moment voicing his complaints about the situation.
If he had his cube, he thinks, it would be better. Less mind-numbingly dull, for one--without it, there's nothing to do but sit around and WALLOW IN HIS OWN MISERY.
But enough of that. What he does, instead, is turn all his attentions (and frustrations) to his communicator, leaving a certain test subject a series of increasingly unstable voicemails.
There is clearly nothing wrong with that.]
[ Well, here goes nothing. Already, John sees Wheatley is engaged with his communicator. Possibly still harassing whoever it was on the network. John approaches from where he'd been seated before at his desk, slipping his communicator into his pocket as he goes. ]
Wheatley? Have you got a moment?
[ LOL. Trick question. ]
Wheatley? Have you got a moment?
[ LOL. Trick question. ]
[Upon hearing his name and the subsequent question, he shoots John a look that very clearly says did you really just ask me that.
But he sort of sits up anyway, because he knows Doctor Watson can be pretty scary if he wants to be, and Wheatley isn't particularly interested in an altercation.
Yet.]
Uh...let me check.
[It's not so much a check as it is more fiddling with his communicator, but after a moment he seems to make his decision.]
Yes. I have a moment. I have...lots of moments, if you want to get technical.
But he sort of sits up anyway, because he knows Doctor Watson can be pretty scary if he wants to be, and Wheatley isn't particularly interested in an altercation.
Yet.]
Uh...let me check.
[It's not so much a check as it is more fiddling with his communicator, but after a moment he seems to make his decision.]
Yes. I have a moment. I have...lots of moments, if you want to get technical.
[ John sighs through his nose, lips quirking as if to say alright, fair enough. ]
Listen, someone's complaining that you keep harassing them over the network.
[ He settles into a seat in the empty patient bed beside the other man, crossing his arms. ]
What's going on?
[ He's also non-confrontational. For now. ]
Listen, someone's complaining that you keep harassing them over the network.
[ He settles into a seat in the empty patient bed beside the other man, crossing his arms. ]
What's going on?
[ He's also non-confrontational. For now. ]
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