Come have a drink with John~

[drpsychosomatic]

WHO: Dr. John Watson and... you, if you like! As long as you are of legal age to drink, I guess.
WHERE: The most pub-looking bar John can find within a walkable radius of his flat
WHEN: After moving in with Sherlock to their new place in the City
WARNINGS: None really. John's a fairly well-behaved drunk. Mostly.
SUMMARY: John's scouting out a watering

Comments

[ofcompanyb]

How Blue got into this bar is something unknown - whatever way he managed, he's not telling. Instead he sits next to John, recognizing him from the chance meeting on the street. Surely, another Fable would understand his plight, right? He doesn't even really drink booze! Much.

Okay at all.

Sometimes.

Whatever.

Blue has, in his hand, a Roy Rogers and in his lap a trumpet case.

"Hello, Mr. Watson."

[ofcompanyb]

Blue settles with a kind of boneless quality; he looks exhausted and a little sad, a touch melancholy, but his smile is still fixed and sweet. "Thank you," he says softly. "It's practice, you know."

The bar is quiet now, and the bartender brings Blue over a Shirley Temple - seriously - and a pair of bills that Blue folds up into his trumpet case.

[drpsychosomatic]

"What happened?" he asked, his lips curved in a soft smile, still hearing strains of the song. "Something happened."

[ofcompanyb]

Blue tilts his head and looks at his trumpet. "I lost everything. Everyone I loved, the girl I loved. I guess music was the last thing I had." Blue has always been good with a horn, but it was practice - a lot of it, especially in the 30s and 40s, that made him get this good.