(Untitled)

[seesomemore]

Dr. John Watson sits at the bar with a lager he has sipped quite a bit and a book he hasn't opened yet.

He's too busy enjoying the relative peace of the bar.

[tiny tag: John Watson (BBC)]

Comments

[hello_freak]

"John." There's a dull thud at his elbow, caused by the deposit of a package roughly the size of a human head. "You're late."

So much for the relative peace of the bar.

[seesomemore]

"I wasn't aware we had an appointment," says John, Not Sighing.

"What's this?" He pokes the package.

[hello_freak]

"A head."

He order a pint and a copy of the Beloruskaya Delovaya Gazeta.

"We didn't have an appointment. But I have a theory. Can I borrow your phone?"

[seesomemore]

John hands his phone over. "Should I start with the head or should I start with the theory?"

[will_scarlett]

Will is as well, when Milliways is quiet, its hard to find a nicer place.

He doesn't have a book just a drink as he contemplates the Bar and raises his glass to Watson.

[seesomemore]

John is a bit puzzled by this gesture, but salutes him in return anyway.

[will_scarlett]

Its meant to be a friendly gesture and Will shifts in his seat to watch the crowd, so many faces he doesn't know.

He knows not everyone welcomes random conversation here, but he wanted to be nice as John seemed to be relaxed as well.

[seesomemore]

John wonders if he's about to be chatted up.

[not_yourproblem]

"I shudder to imagine where you find more peace; here, or Baker Street."

Was he sitting there before? Ah, well. He is now.

"Hello, Dr Watson."

[seesomemore]

John starts, and then coughs to cover it. "Hello, Mr. Holmes."

[not_yourproblem]

"I trust everything's well between you and my brother?" asks Mycroft in a disgusting parody of geniality. "Keeping out of trouble?"

[seesomemore]

"Fine, fine, everything's fine."

He figures no matter what he says, Mycroft knows anyway, right?

"It's been a peaceful few weeks."

[forgottenmotley]

"What book?" the fellow in Motley asks. He leans a bit over, from where he sits next to him at the bar and tries to look friendly.

[seesomemore]

"The Yiddish Policeman's Union," says John, holding up his book to show the cover.

[forgottenmotley]

"What a funny title." He glances at the author. "Ah. I think I've heard of him. Caliver and Clay right?"

[seesomemore]

"The same."

He holds out his hand. "John Watson."

Still open?

[starrydome]

Elrond has been walking outside and is feeling calm and well-rested. Now, he just wants to sit down with a glass of wine and stretch time a little, before he returns to his duties on the other side of the door.

He fetches a glass from the Bar and looks around for a place to sit.

The sweeping robes and the circlet might look like a costume from a distance, but up close it cannot be mistaken for anything but real clothes.

sure, though I suspect I'm asleep when you're online

[seesomemore]

The seat next to John is open. The man himself is nowhere near so grand as the new patron--he's rumpled and ordinary-looking and very much occupied with enjoying his lager.

Damn timezones

[starrydome]

Elrond spots the seat and walks over to the table. "Is this taken?" he asks politely, indicating the free seat with a small movement of his left hand.

His voice is deep and pleasant and he sounds almost, but not quite, British.

[seesomemore]

"Not at all," says John, and then looks at him.

Most of the people he's met here are at least ostensibly human.

"Er."