Who: Dr. Watson and anyone else!
When: Erm, let's say Friday, the 16th.
Where: Center of Anatole
Format: Paragraph
What: John tries to figure out the rest of the city while trying to locate Holmes. He might also be looking for the clinic for employment.
Warnings: None yet!
(
ADVENTURE TIME! )
Comments 39
He turned a corner and saw something that, while not a child, was certainly just as unusual: a man dressed more or less in Anatole style, but looking most thoroughly lost--and not walking like he'd been in Anatole all his life, either.
Johan shifted his knapsack and wondered whether he should hail the fellow; he hadn't been here as long as some of the Scorched, but if the guy was as lost as he looked Johan might be able to help at least a little bit.
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To avoid further accidents and angering any more of the locals, Watson moved off to the side, and opened up the map on his Forge. Where was he exactly? He really had to get out more instead of staying inside his flat, watching from above, if he wanted to get a stable job.
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"Do you need help?" he asked, ignoring the nasty looks from around them, more concerned with someone he was sure had to be a newcomer.
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The turian bought himself a sandwhich to eat on the go and continued his walk through town. He was getting used to human food, and it was actually pretty fun to taste all these new flavors. Garrus hadn't decided on what flavors he liked best yet, but orange was becoming a fast favorite.
As he walked along, he noticed a human getting the usual suspicious and sour looks from locals. That meant one thing: the man was a Scorched. As Garrus began to pass him, he raised his hand and politely greeted, "Good afternoon."
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So when someone actually greeted Watson with a "good afternoon," he curiously looked around for the source. Whom he found gave him the shock of his life. Never had Watson seen someone like this. He swallowed before replying; even though the person across from him certainly didn't look like an Englishman, Watson was still ever the gentleman.
"Good afternoon, sir," he replied in return, nodding his head.
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"Don't think I've seen you here before," Garrus said. He didn't know all the Scorched, but he liked to keep an eye on the Forge and he couldn't recall seeing or hearing this man on the network.
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"Uh, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "I'm new. Just arrived, actually."
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He was growing frustrated by the minute. A part of him wanted to give up his search and just return to his flat, but what then? What if Holmes left the bookstore not expecting to come back? Watson also didn't know when the man would return, much like he did back when they lived together on Baker Street ( ... )
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Without any warning, Holmes launched into Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E Minor, but merely the lead violin of the first movement. As his fingers danced along the neck, he was still observing every movement and detail of those around him. A rather round woman off to the side was constantly shifting her weight away from one foot to another; she had a club foot made obvious by the varying length of her two legs and the boot on one foot rather than both. Another man was leering at him particularly hard, one hand in his pocket. The thin material allowed Holmes ( ... )
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He kindly made his way through the crowds, pardoning himself if he bumped into a lady or nodding to a fellow gentleman. Watson finally broke through the crowd to the front, only to pause when he saw whom it was. He looked at Holmes, resting on his cane, a small smile on his face.
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Watson made a brief observation that he was passing a young (and pink-haired) woman, but stopped when a voice called out. He recognized it, if only vaguely - it was the young lady who had told him about the clinic in the first place. He turned around and was surprised to see that it was the pink-haired young lady he had just passed.
"...Yes, I do," he said slowly. Watson tilted his head. "...We've spoken before, haven't we?"
(Agh, sorry this is such shit. Watson isn't agreeing with me tonight ;_;)
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Well, yes, actually, she remembered his voice. A little. She was slightly amazed that he'd picked hers out; she was, after all, trained to be observant, but voices she didn't know well were more difficult to pick out. But now that she'd placed him, she remembered the conversation.
"I think we did," she replied. "You're new, right? You mentioned being a doctor."
((Pfft, what shit? <3))
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Sometimes, thinking about his situation made Watson feel like this was all just a terrible hallucination or dream brought on by some illness back home that crept up on him. He was still waiting to wake up from said dream.
All the same, Watson remembered himself. "John Watson, miss," he said, holding out his hand towards her. "And your name?"
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