dr. john h. watson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
confidente) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2012-03-16 11:03 am
confidente) wrote in paradisa2012-03-16 11:03 am
Entry tags:
sɪx
[ The journal picks up the door closing, shuffling and the faint irritable mutter. Favoring his left leg as he heads into the sitting room. He found it, at least, after a few days of searching and refusing to wish up the bloody thing. ]
Sherlock? I'm back.
[He's parked himself in his chair reading something that looks like it's in a different language. He doesn't look up, not that he needs to.]
Took you long enough.
I was only gone for twenty minutes. [ He lifts the box in the air, shaking it a little with a grin. He won a victory today and he is a little happier about than he probably should be. ] Look what I found.
[He does, but he does it kind of like an adult indulging a child showing off a drawing. He's not really paying attention to the box at all.] Oh. Are we still doing that?
[ Yes, they are still doing that. He limps over, dropping the box on a free coffee table. ] Of course, it's not like we've got anything better to do right now. [ Like a case, or something. ]
True. [There's a pause while he watches, silently.] All right?
Hmm? Oh, yeah. [ He pats his leg, a frown creasing his brows. ] Something bit me on the way back, didn't see it though. Whatever it was moved pretty fast.
Oh? [His tone brightens a little. What is concern?] Sounds interesting.
[ Eye roll. ] Of course you would. [ He turns, limping into the kitchen. ] Tea?
[Rustling as he lifts the lid of the game, starts rifling through it. Distractedly:] Yes.
[ It's like clockwork, making a cup of tea. With the amount of times he's done it, he hardly has to think about what he is doing. Water, cups, sugar, tea, milk... milk? John frowns, moving to the fridge, they're low on milk again. Again? He had just only bought another carton two days ago, at least he thought he did. ]
What have you-- [ He trails off and there's a heavy thud, kind of what you'd think it would sound like if he fell to the floor in a heap. Which he just did. ]
John? [He's in the kitchen barely a moment later, stooping to try and rouse him. If he didn't sound concerned before he definitely does now.] John. John.
[ Sorry bro, the John Watson you're trying to reach is unavailable at this time. Hang up and please try again later. ]
[There's a frustrated noise, and then suddenly Sherlock's voice is much louder and clearer as he seizes the journal.]
I need medical personnel in the Satis Tower. Room 1802. Doctors, healers, nurses with bags of pixie dust, I don't care. Get here now.
( ooc; AND JOHN IS OUT. Sherlock is blue and John is black. Just be careful, the unhappy detective may bite. Oh and for reference, there is a hideous purple mark on his right leg between his knee and ankle. )
Sherlock? I'm back.
[He's parked himself in his chair reading something that looks like it's in a different language. He doesn't look up, not that he needs to.]
Took you long enough.
I was only gone for twenty minutes. [ He lifts the box in the air, shaking it a little with a grin. He won a victory today and he is a little happier about than he probably should be. ] Look what I found.
[He does, but he does it kind of like an adult indulging a child showing off a drawing. He's not really paying attention to the box at all.] Oh. Are we still doing that?
[ Yes, they are still doing that. He limps over, dropping the box on a free coffee table. ] Of course, it's not like we've got anything better to do right now. [ Like a case, or something. ]
True. [There's a pause while he watches, silently.] All right?
Hmm? Oh, yeah. [ He pats his leg, a frown creasing his brows. ] Something bit me on the way back, didn't see it though. Whatever it was moved pretty fast.
Oh? [His tone brightens a little. What is concern?] Sounds interesting.
[ Eye roll. ] Of course you would. [ He turns, limping into the kitchen. ] Tea?
[Rustling as he lifts the lid of the game, starts rifling through it. Distractedly:] Yes.
[ It's like clockwork, making a cup of tea. With the amount of times he's done it, he hardly has to think about what he is doing. Water, cups, sugar, tea, milk... milk? John frowns, moving to the fridge, they're low on milk again. Again? He had just only bought another carton two days ago, at least he thought he did. ]
What have you-- [ He trails off and there's a heavy thud, kind of what you'd think it would sound like if he fell to the floor in a heap. Which he just did. ]
John? [He's in the kitchen barely a moment later, stooping to try and rouse him. If he didn't sound concerned before he definitely does now.] John. John.
[ Sorry bro, the John Watson you're trying to reach is unavailable at this time. Hang up and please try again later. ]
[There's a frustrated noise, and then suddenly Sherlock's voice is much louder and clearer as he seizes the journal.]
I need medical personnel in the Satis Tower. Room 1802. Doctors, healers, nurses with bags of pixie dust, I don't care. Get here now.
( ooc; AND JOHN IS OUT. Sherlock is blue and John is black. Just be careful, the unhappy detective may bite. Oh and for reference, there is a hideous purple mark on his right leg between his knee and ankle. )