[Open to all Silvana crew members.]

[threeleggeddoc]

Characters: John Watson, his volunteers, the afflicted, the lonely, whoever. /o/
Content: Watson's determined to fix the arrangement of the infirmary, and some men have been kind enough to offer their assistance.
Setting: Silvana Infirmary
Time: Anytime during the day, around the Long Night period, although I think it's best to set this before Nena

Comments

[flyfrommyself]

((OOC: ...although I think it's best to set this before Nena's plot? -- That'd be best for me, actually. Yami's going to be in . . . less than ideal shape the closer to Long Night we get. 9,9;;;))

Yami peeked in shortly after breakfast, dressed in his work clothes, the little leather pouch with his summoning tokens on his belt as always. He spotted the good doctor and grinned, rapping his knuckles on the door frame. "Good morning, John. Need a hand?"

[threeleggeddoc]

[ooc: Very well, then!]

Watson looked up from his examination of the spaces between the operating table and smiled. Ah, Yami, one of his favorite patients. Of a sort. In the first place, that Yami was often in correspondence with Watson should have been fairly alarming, but what could you do in a ship like the Silvana?

"Yes, please," he replied with a grin.

[flyfrommyself]

((OOC: should have been fairly alarming -- awww, he's just conversational and friendly, and doesn't pry [much?]. ^_~ And in need of friends himself, not that he realizes or will admit to it.))

Yami crossed the room to the doctor, one hand slipping with practiced ease into the pouch to pull out three metal token. "So what exactly needs to be moved?"

[threeleggeddoc]

"The remains of the freezer, over here." He tapped it with his cane. "And these are operating tables that the beast had destroyed, possibly to vent out its frustrations at being trapped in here." If freezers could be frustrated. He had cleaned the insides of the thing himself, lest any chemicals combined and stained the floor, or worse yet, spontaneously combust and blow a hole through the Silvana's hull.

[birdcagephoenix]

[Luke finally gets to stretch those fake muscles. /o/]

That Luke was being even remotely agreeable about doing work was testimony to just how bored said rich kid was. After recovering from his adventures in the Badlands, he found himself left with nothing to do except train, explore the ship, or lie around staring at the walls of his room. None of these proved much different from conditions back home (minus the fact that at home he'd have about a half dozen maids ready at the chime of a bell to take care of whatever he needed -- the extra breathing space was kind of nice).

At least this would give him an excuse to stretch. He didn't bother with knocking and merely let himself into the infirmary. Upon poking around a bit, Luke frowned. He had expected the room to be a little nicer than this, being a place that treated sick and injured patients after all. Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't experienced any more severe headaches since boarding the ship. It looked as if someone had hidden a bunch of busted up furniture in the

[threeleggeddoc]

Watson started from where he'd been putting aside the last of the smaller, broken appliances, with Yami having foisted off the larger pieces of debris off. He looked over his shoulder and recognized Luke from his medical records.

"Ah, you're here! Very good." As for that question... "Well, you see, the ship got a bit possessed last Lunasa, and sent all the equipment and technology in a rage. We had to hold off murderous freezers and the like for a good bit of time before someone was able to do something about the engine."

[birdcagephoenix]

Luke listened, but his expression soon grew skeptical. First ghosts and now possessed ships? Were these people for real?!

The redhead was about to make some smart remark about the whole ship being overly superstitious, but he managed to stop himself. Watson seemed serious enough - he wouldn't lie about something like that, would be? After all, people hardly believed that Luke had been teleported across Reial, but it had happened. Maybe... maybe.

He could at least play along. If weird things happened that often, then he'd probably see a few of them himself in due time. Maybe the ship really was haunted -- it certainly looked the part. Or maybe things like this were totally normal.

"Uh, right. Okay. I guess that would explain why the room's such a mess. Where do I start?"

[threeleggeddoc]

The doctor saw the skepticism on the young man's face but held his tongue -- the boy would see for himself in the future, and at the moment, Watson was pleased enough that Luke had come to lecture him on the dangers of being in the ship like the Silvana. That could be reserved for another time.

"If you would put these broken lamps and equipment together, I would be grateful," he suggested as he prodded at a pile of broken glass and twisted metal on the floor with his cane. He had bludgeoned them himself, when they had attempted to latch themselves on his leg.

[anothercoldwar]

Nikolas was in an almost affable mood when he entered the infirmary. After the fiasco of the last mission, it was nice to be asked to do something that would have an actual, beneficial outcome. The only thing he disliked more than idle time was time spent on completely fruitless ventures. And unless something very strange was going on in the ship's medical ward, he didn't think that would be an issue today.

"I hear you have some items that need moving." There was an almost-smile on his face, and he'd foregone his uniform coat entirely, shirt sleeves already rolled up to the elbow. "I think I can help with that."

[threeleggeddoc]

Watson only beamed at Nikolas' entrance, having just taken up a broom himself to clear off the dust Yami's assistance had left behind (summoned creatures, how fascinating). "You're just in time to help me move the operating room back into order, my good man," he announced brightly, tapping the handle of the broom at the operating table next to him. "I will need this moved to that side, and that desk moved to the other side, among other things."

[anothercoldwar]

"That should be easy enough to accomplish," Nikolas replied, looking around the room. "It looks like our poltergeist did quite a number in here."

He turned his attention to the operating table, planting both hands on the side and pushing it towards its usual place in the room. It wasn't a light object by any means, but he didn't appear to be having much issue with it. "I do hope things have been calmer for you as of late?"

[threeleggeddoc]

"Quite, but not as terrible as the engine room, from what I've heard." And they were still missing some items from the kitchens, and the lights in the hallways had been spotty since then. It gave the ship a more sinister atmosphere.

He moved out of the way as Nikolas pushed the operating table to the far end of the room. "Not too flush against the wall, please. There needs to be enough space for a man to run around."

[justdeduceit]

"Would you like another pair of hands?"

Leaning against the doorframe was none other than Sherlock Holmes, a wry smile on his lips. He wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to come and help. Perhaps it was a sense of debt to the doctor for the morphine incident. Perhaps it would simply be a good idea to get the infirmary in order. Perhaps he just didn't want to sit in his cabin any longer. It may have been a combination of all three.

"Or do you have it under control already?"

[threeleggeddoc]

It had barely been half an hour when Watson had allowed his assistants to leave the confines of the infirmary, though not after ensuring that they had taken care of all the laborious work in his place. The doctor had regained much of his strength after months in the Silvana, but he was not foolish enough to strain his thigh by pushing on heavy equipment on his own. He was, at that moment, sorting through the files he had recovered from a file cabinet that had been beaten in by the rampaging freezer

[justdeduceit]

Watson was an open book, and that glance towards his arm and then to the cabinet told Holmes all he needed to know. "I assure you, doctor, purloining your pharmacy is the furthest thing from my mind." His tone was one of gentle reproach, and he held his hands up placatingly. "My intentions are pure." He smiled wryly. Coming off the morphine hadn't been easy, of course, even though Holmes had used the drug relatively sparingly. No, truthfully it had been a horrible process

He'll wean you off these things one day, mark my words.

[threeleggeddoc]

Watson's principles would normally object for him to share information about his patients with anyone, but he had known that Holmes would take a look at some of the files -- had hoped for it, frankly -- and considered it a worthy sacrifice if it kept his friend occupied. Holmes could be trusted to keep secrets, as Watson already knew.

"We've had some interesting new hires lately," he remarked, sliding other folders for sorting. "Oh, do hand over Gin's folder. I need to add to his medical history." Namely, the drugs that Gin had asked him for.