Comments | scorched_logs: What time is it? [Open]

nevercomplain in scorched_logs

What time is it? [Open]

Jul 17, 2010 18:17

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! )

john watson, sherlock holmes, johan andersen, sakura haruno, active

Comments 39

thejewelergem July 17 2010, 22:39:41 UTC

Johan hefted his knapsack over his shoulder, wondering what sadistic god had brought him to a place with no refrigerators, and headed out, wondering absently if he felt like going straight back to the community block, or stopping for something to drink first, and definitely looking closely at every person he passed. After his conversation with the nameless Londoner on the Forge, he wanted to see if he could indeed spot any kids he simply hadn't noticed before.

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.

nevercomplain July 18 2010, 19:38:56 UTC

Watson stopped in the middle of the street he had been walking down. A few people bumped into him and were ready to apologize had it not been for the Forge they saw in his hands. He then got a disgusted look, a muttering, and then the person was gone. Watson furrowed his brow, his mustache nearly following suit. He had quickly learned that those with the Forge were like him -- the "Scorched," whatever that meant.

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.

thejewelergem July 18 2010, 19:52:40 UTC

Yeah, definitely not a local. Johan moved upstream against the foot traffic as best he could, finally stopping in front of the man with the Forge.

"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.

nevercomplain July 19 2010, 01:18:10 UTC

Watson was interrupted from looking through the Forge by someone speaking at him. He looked up and saw a young man looking at him. Had he asked the question? Watson straightened his stance, putting the Forge away, in his pocket. "Yes, I do, young man," he said. "I'm looking for a...bookstore. I don't remember the name of it, but I trust it might be the only one in Anatole...?"

Thread 13

officer_garrus July 18 2010, 02:59:52 UTC

Another day, another paycheck. While Garrus could not say that he enjoyed his work for the farmers, at least it paid well enough. He wondered if he should go back into law enforcement. It would be like his days at C-Sec again. The turian hadn't really seen anything resembling law enforcement here, but you never knew.

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."

nevercomplain July 18 2010, 19:50:01 UTC

If there was one thing Watson was suffering from greatly outside of humiliation and shame while getting used to Anatole, it was the lack of social interaction he had been having. His habits upon arriving were worthy of Holmes in a sense, but Watson couldn't help it if he was apparently an outcast of society. No one in Anatole spoke to him. Sure, there were the Scorched on his floor, but he rarely saw them as they were going in and out.

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.

officer_garrus July 18 2010, 20:30:37 UTC

Garrus had expected that. His first month here had taught him that nobody else came from a universe where humanity had made contact with turians. Still, this man had taken his appearance pretty well, all things considered. Nobody had really screamed and run off at the sight of him yet, which made him pleased.

"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.

nevercomplain July 19 2010, 01:27:04 UTC

Oh the doctor was every bit as shocked when he saw the...man in front of him. Watson carefully and cautiously looked him over. He didn't seem threatening, especially since he was the one to first make contact, but Watson could nearly hear Holmes's chastising voice in his head about being too trusting with individuals.

"Uh, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "I'm new. Just arrived, actually."

Thread 11

neverstagnate July 18 2010, 08:16:52 UTC

While Anatole had sights and sounds most similar to Victorian London, there was one thing Holmes had noticed that made it remarkably different. Beneath everything there was the slightest scent of must and corpses. Even in the most open aired areas, it tinged his nostrils for the briefest of moments. Because of this, the city attained something of a sinister air ( ... )

nevercomplain July 18 2010, 21:10:48 UTC

By the time Watson had reached the bookstore and gave the description of his friend to the man at the counter, Holmes was gone. He sighed out of frustration, leaning his forehead on his index finger and thumb as he bent over the counter. Not wanting to waste time, he stood straight. "Thank you," he told the salesman and left the bookstore. Watson left once more and braced himself to once again travel through the crowds to find Holmes.

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 ( ... )

neverstagnate July 18 2010, 22:34:38 UTC

Holmes tuned the Strad, seemingly oblivious to the people collecting around him, but in truth he was already sizing up a good number of them. With his face dirtied and his clothes akin to theirs, they weren't shooting him the baleful looks he'd received upon his initial arrival, but they were still certainly suspicious. None of them had currency at the ready, but seemed only intent on surveying what he was going to do. Holmes wondered if instruments like his existed in Anatole.

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 ( ... )

nevercomplain July 19 2010, 01:47:51 UTC

Watson tried to see over the heads of the crowd, but it was a bit difficult. He removed his top hat just as the street performer - granted if that's whom they were - began his or her repertoire. He recognized the song and was a little intrigued. Watson was far from an expert on Anatole, but he was perturbed by this mix of Victorian England and what seemed to be the future, based on the technology he had seen.

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.

Thread 11

sucker_punches July 18 2010, 17:37:20 UTC

There were days when Sakura liked the distance between her apartment and the clinic she worked in, and there were days when she didn't ( ... )

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HERE IT IS ILU nevercomplain July 19 2010, 02:27:13 UTC

The clinic was the other most important thing for Watson to find. He needed a steady job for ivories so that he and Gladstone - and mostly likely Holmes when he found him - could eat. Not to mention they could pay rent, even though he felt like telling the landlords to withhold the second month's rent free since they already got it in the "security deposit." Watson was still reeling from his stupidity.

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 ;_;)

lol DON'T APOLOGIZE! Seriously I'm the slowest log tagger ever, it's cool. sucker_punches July 19 2010, 03:31:05 UTC

Sakura's head cocked to the side in curiosity. Had she? She didn't recognize him, and she did her best to remember faces, but when she thought about it...

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))

nevercomplain July 21 2010, 02:53:34 UTC

Watson smiled gently when she recognized him. He nodded when she brought up his medical profession. "That I am," he said. Watson then quickly looked her over. Her appearance was nothing like he had ever seen in London. However, he couldn't be judgmental as it seemed that Anatole--and all of the Scorched--were from different...places in time, one way or another.

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?"