First Meeting [The Detective & Dr. John Watson]

[contentalone]

The Detective could be a very patient man when the situation called for it. Oh, he still ran on spontaneity for the most part, but wandering the universe and its many parallels for nine hundred years will instil in anyone a few modicums of patience.

It was this fact that made tailing Dr. John Watson (until a suitable moment to ‘coincidentally’

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[eagerfordanger]

For days, John has felt an inexplicable unease surging within him. He paid regular visits to his therapist's office and went about his typical day, he could not shake the feeling that something was a bit different. Something was off, and it was driving him a little batty. Thinking perhaps it was just the plethora of sleepless nights or fitful dreams, he decided to take a few moments and calm himself down in the park.

Nature in the city was far more tranquil than that of Afghanistan. The chirping of birds and the whirring of passing vehicles -- it almost felt like home. Leaning back on the park bench, John massaged his wounded leg and surveyed the park with an utmost curiousity. To the untrained eye, the doctor would seemingly look as though he was idly observing his surroundings, but the military certainly ingrained a particular note of detail. Important details.

Like the strange man who had been eyeing him for the past few minutes. John never looked directly at the shaggy haired fellow, but he knew without a doubt that this was some silent, strange stare down. It reminded him of a movie, and that thought alone coaxed a tiny smile out of him.

For now, he decides to sit and wait, drumming fingers on his leg the other hand settled in the pocket of his jumper. At least the weather wasn't terrible. Sleep deprivation, terrible dreams and strange, staring men -- this was turning out to be an interesting day.

[contentalone]

It seems he has been noticed. The Detective has a keen eye for spotting subtle changes in body language, and even though Watson never met his gaze, he knew the other man had noticed him and was examining him.

Going over was tempting, but he held himself back. Give Watson a little time to develop some ideas about who he was before he went over. It would certainly make things more interesting, and he always found it entertaining to hear what conclusions people drew about him.

He caught the smile, obviously, and wondered what had prompted it. Was Watson finding the situation amusing somehow? The Detective immediately came up with half a dozen theories pertaining to the good doctor's sense of humour and what it said about him as a person depending on what, if anything, he found funny.

It gave him mind something to focus on, and he felt the familiar thrill of theorizing, of deducting everything he possibly could about a person from very limited information. Of course, it wasn't as potent as it usually was, given that he had already known more or less what to expect, but it was still there.

His lips twitch a fraction; the faintest hint of a smirk.

[eagerfordanger]

Okay, so the man that was staring had no intention of giving in, that was clear. For a moment, John almost feels guilty. What if it is someone he has worked with, or perhaps a former patient? He quickly tries to search through his mind to find a name or an instance -- anything that may draw the man out and settle this once and for all.

He comes up with nothing.

Letting out a deep breath, John upturns his face to look at the various greenery (or lack thereof), not taking any particular interest. Truth be told, he couldn't get his mind off of that strange man, the one who made him feel like he was forgetting something important.

Finally standing, his weight shifting to accommodate the cane and the bad leg, he skims the area one more time before taking to the walking path within it. His luck, the man was certifiable and John was about to walk right into some sick little game of his.

"Can I help you with something?" It's all politeness, but there is a matter-of-fact, no fun tone about his voice. John Watson takes chances, and he loves the thrill of a good chase or adventure, but in these times, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Approaching a perfect stranger acting like that? Well, that's a way to get started on the wrong foot. Who needed safety, anyhow?

[contentalone]

"Your limp is partly psychosomatic. It troubles you when you're walking, but now, when you're standing still, focusing on something else, you forget about it." The Detective now looked straight into Watson's eyes. "Your therapist, in short, is correct."

This isn't exactly how he envisioned their first meeting, but it bodes well that this Watson confronts the strange, staring man rather than ignore him or move on. If that had been the case, his interest would have waned instantly. As it stands, he thinks they are off to a good start.

It's telling that to the Detective, an annoyed Watson confronting him over what seems to be crazy behaviour is 'a good start'.

"Tell me, was it Iraq or Afghanistan? I've been leaning towards Afghanistan, but not enough to be certain."

[eagerfordanger]

Right away, Watson noticed how very keen to detail this man was. No less, how did he know the things he did? He couldn't help but be a little amazed, yet at the same time, he frowned. "How do you know that, then?" He frowned at the statement and leans a little heavier on his cane, his leg uncomfortable. "And... the therapist? Do you work in her office?"

Being in the Afghanistan war helped him understand the way people generally worked. To him, they were subdivided into levels of trust, and this man was easily embarking on a path of complete distrust. He was a stranger, yes. But in most occasions, Watson gave them the benefit of doubt. For this one, however it couldn't apply. Already he was overstepping boundaries and knew things that couldn't at all be plainly visible! It wasn't as though he was running about in his uniform.

"How do you know about that?" Watson found himself more surprised by this final conclusion than he did any other. "Afghanistan, but... tell me. How do you know these things? I don't even know who you are!"

Maybe he's a little flustered, but for the most part, he kept a cool expression upon his face.

[contentalone]

In contrast to Watson, the Detective was perfectly calm, and even a little amused by the reaction he had sparked in Watson.

"Neither do I know you, but I surmised everything I said just from watching you." Which was perfectly true. Well, the war part he'd had a hint on from other Watsons, but he could easily have worked it out for himself. "Your posture is classic military, as is your haircut; that it hasn't yet grown out of the style means you have only recently returned to London. Next, location. You're tanned, but it stops at your wrists. A hot country, then, and given the current situation, that places you in Afghanistan or Iraq, hence my question." He took a breath, finally, but it wasn't as large as might be expected after such a long speech. "As for your therapist, you've come back from war with a psychosomatic limp, of course you have a therapist."

The Detective sat back and, having answered all of Watson's questions, waited for the good doctor's response.

[eagerfordanger]

Watson took a moment to simply stare at the man. Watching the way he moved or acted, the way he matter-of-factly seemed to debunk his entire personality and background? It was astounding. No doubt it showed on his face as a moment or two of silence passed between them.

"How did you... that was astounding." Really, he should be telling himself that this was a bad idea and part ways with this strange man as it was. However, there was something about the danger in it, the fact that this was a perfect stranger... what, a man couldn't take chances?

Leaning upon his cane, he laughed and ran a hand over his face, "It was Afghanistan, though. I was shot, by the way." He gestured vaguely to his leg. His therapist often tried telling him the limp was psychosomatic, and the times he paid any attention? Well, the leg hurt. Or he thought it hurt.

"That... that was impressive," Watson stated and looked up to the man, the faintest signs of an amused grin tugging onto his lips. "But one question. Who are you? It's very clear you're a well educated man, but that does little to ease my concerns."

[contentalone]

The Detective was used to people telling him to piss off when he told them their life stories just by glancing at them. Occasionally he'd get punched. What he was not used to was being told that his process of deduction was astounding. It was, of course, but it didn't hurt to hear it now and again. He liked impressing people with his superior intelligence, and when they were impressed it was a win-win situation.

He liked this Watson already.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm a consulting detective." He had taken up the alias long ago, and it had required minimal reworking for an extended stay in the 21st century. With a twitch of his lips, he added, "And your name? That's one thing I can't deduct from your appearance."

[eagerfordanger]

John dealt with the strange and tedious quite often. Being a doctor of any type required a sort of patience that most others would not be able to handle. He had to be constantly aware of people's personalities. Seeing so many patients in such a high-stress environment required an easy going, but efficient, mindset.

At the introduction, he stepped forward and offered out a hand, transferring his cane to the opposite. "I'm not sure if I want to tell you my name or not," he joked, laughing a little. "John Watson."

He pulled back and re-adjusted his weight with the cane, looking curiously up at this Sherlock Holmes. "A consulting detective? Is that even a real title? I've never heard it before."

[contentalone]

"Of course it's a real title." The Detective sniffed. "I invented the job mself, and I am the only one in the world who holds the title, but that doesn't mean it isn't real."

Despite his tone, though, he was not actually offended. He even went so far as to shake Watson's hand, albeit briefly, a gesture that he usually ignored as unnecessary contact.

It was, naturally, just so that he could pass for human easier. He'd never had a great deal of interest in humans or their customs, but even he, egotistical as he was, had to concede that blending in would make his stay infinitely easier.

Of course, he didn't intend to blend in too much.