Dr. John H. Watson, M.D. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lightconductor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-12-11 01:22 pm
lightconductor) wrote in ph_logs2024-12-11 01:22 pm
It's December
Who: Watson and you
What: December toplevel for your various Watson needs.
When: Throughout December
Warnings: Talk of old injuries/current disabilities, use of alcohol.
1.
With December comes the beginning of some colder weather, and for Watson, this has always meant the very physical reminder of the time he took a bullet in his shoulder, and the one that's still lodged in his kneecap. He's always had something of a limp, but these days? He's certainly leaning on his cane a little more than he normally does, as well as being a little more of a homebody.
The hot springs, however, are a tempting destination, particularly before the weather becomes bitter enough to keep him closer to home.
On a beach full of people, a bathing costume is, of course, necessary. Here, where it's a little quieter, it isn't, and after setting his clothes into a secure bundle, he slides into the water in the nude. He finds a comfortable seat, and closes his eyes.
2.
There are, of course, business hours.
Watson isn't so busy he won't sit at the front desk of the clinic himself if necessary, a cheerful little fire in the stove to keep the room warm while he writes. This has always been the way for him: quiet office hours are the perfect time to absorb himself in the task of writing some of the things in his head down onto paper. He writes with a dip pen, one where the shaft has been made with a rather familiar looking feather.
Pay no attention to the huge grey tomcat with the ragged ear who is often curled up by the fire, sleeping. He has a tendency to follow Watson to and from work, and comes and goes as he pleases. Watson might have given up on trying to control Diogenes's movements. It's easier just to let him in.
3.
In the evening, it's common for Watson to drop by the Oak and Iron and order a drink at the bar, or maybe a full meal if he has no other plans and does not want to attempt to cook himself. This is one of the little social things he does to keep himself sane, in fact.
He's quick with greetings, eager for conversation.
"How are you keeping yourself? Do you have time to join me?"
4.
Wildcard. Hit me up!
What: December toplevel for your various Watson needs.
When: Throughout December
Warnings: Talk of old injuries/current disabilities, use of alcohol.
1.
With December comes the beginning of some colder weather, and for Watson, this has always meant the very physical reminder of the time he took a bullet in his shoulder, and the one that's still lodged in his kneecap. He's always had something of a limp, but these days? He's certainly leaning on his cane a little more than he normally does, as well as being a little more of a homebody.
The hot springs, however, are a tempting destination, particularly before the weather becomes bitter enough to keep him closer to home.
On a beach full of people, a bathing costume is, of course, necessary. Here, where it's a little quieter, it isn't, and after setting his clothes into a secure bundle, he slides into the water in the nude. He finds a comfortable seat, and closes his eyes.
2.
There are, of course, business hours.
Watson isn't so busy he won't sit at the front desk of the clinic himself if necessary, a cheerful little fire in the stove to keep the room warm while he writes. This has always been the way for him: quiet office hours are the perfect time to absorb himself in the task of writing some of the things in his head down onto paper. He writes with a dip pen, one where the shaft has been made with a rather familiar looking feather.
Pay no attention to the huge grey tomcat with the ragged ear who is often curled up by the fire, sleeping. He has a tendency to follow Watson to and from work, and comes and goes as he pleases. Watson might have given up on trying to control Diogenes's movements. It's easier just to let him in.
3.
In the evening, it's common for Watson to drop by the Oak and Iron and order a drink at the bar, or maybe a full meal if he has no other plans and does not want to attempt to cook himself. This is one of the little social things he does to keep himself sane, in fact.
He's quick with greetings, eager for conversation.
"How are you keeping yourself? Do you have time to join me?"
4.
Wildcard. Hit me up!
no subject
Watson gestures to a seat in the examination room, and turns to one side to find a stethoscope in a drawer. "So you haven't been here long, lad, I understand that. Why don't you explain your situation and how you've been feeling lately, to start?"
1/2
no subject
"César said he told you about nanites and EVOs. My nanites have their coding completely, unlike other ones. Sooooo I basically am perfectly healthy unless I'm healing from a fight." If there's an exam table, he's going to hop onto it. "Got stabbed by a giant super poisonous sea urchin once that'd kill anyone else multiple times over. Just hurt until I pulled the thorn out, and then I was fine."
Rex doesn't notice César fighting between amusement at how cheerful Rex is recounting that experience and some worry it happened in the first place.
"I did get poisoned once by a creature of legend, and that would've killed me eventually but we developed an antidote. César's worried my nanites aren't good for any magical disease or poison, though."
no subject
He's almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Given some of the magical diseases we have seen, I would not want to take that risk either. Pardon me." Watson is not about to explain the Hollow Men at this time, however. He'd prefer not to discuss it at all, ever. He presses the stethoscope against Rex's back, and listens. "Take a deep breath, please."
no subject
Rex does exactly as asked, immediately quieting. This part he's used to. It's been weird that he doesn't get some sort of daily check-up anymore.
no subject
And his knowledge of Latin is hardly conversational, as far as the root words go.
no subject
It was honestly scary, so Rex tries to brush it all off with a joke. "You should've seen me, I looked just as tired as César did before Magne made him take care of himself and also sleep."
no subject
no subject
He absolutely enjoys the occasional monster fight.
Watson reaches for a blood pressure cuff and lifts Rex's arm to slide it on.
1/2
no subject
no subject
Admittedly, he pauses a little at César's ring; an engagement ring for a man is something quite new to him, but he blinks and smiles as he starts inflating the cuff. "Congratulations, incidentally."
no subject
no subject
Despite his energetic way of speaking, Rex stays still for the arm cuff.
no subject
Watson says, his tone somewhat ironic. There really doesn't seem to be a better way to casually refer to one's death. He pauses to examine the dial, and steps away to make a note as the cuff deflates.
"Your heart and lungs seem to be in excellent shape. If you'll stand there against the wall, I'll take your measurements, though I imagine you're likely still growing."
no subject
Rex hops off and goes up against the wall. He's 5'11" now, Magne's height and an inch shorter than César (minus the hair). "My goal is to get taller than my brother."
That gets a snort from César, but otherwise no verbal comment.
no subject
Which is very important in matters of "am I growing taller."
"Your vitals all look quite good for a young man of your age," he says. "How have you been feeling? Arriving here can be... unsettling, I know. Are you sleeping well?"
no subject
The questions make Rex unconsciously glance at César before looking back to Watson to answer. "... A lot better than I thought I'd be, and I've always slept well. César and I are still figuring things out because I don't remember my life before Providence. Magne and Touya being around helps; if there's something I can't go to César for, I can go to one fo them. Magne can read us both like a book, too. Her and César are making sure I have enough to eat, even though I need a lot with my metabolism. And, ah, teaching me how living in this place works. Laundry's really annoying in the past."
Rex can't see César's face melting into relief at the honest answer.
no subject
no subject
César thins his lips together in an attempt not to laugh
no subject
He reaches to pull a little canister out from behind the tongue depressors, and opens it to hold out for Rex. It's full of hard candies, butterscotch or mint mostly, wrapped in bits of waxed paper.
"Help yourself to a few," he chuckles.
no subject
Ignore César, he's just shaking his head in amusement.