[John will find a wrapped box on his doorstep with a decanter set neatly packed with tissue residing within, and a bottle of whiskey to fill it with. There's a note written on a page from a prescription pad sitting on top.]
Take 1-2 times daily as needed for the bloody absurdity that is Eudio.
[It's signed Claire Fraser, so it's legit.]
Take 1-2 times daily as needed for the bloody absurdity that is Eudio.
[It's signed Claire Fraser, so it's legit.]
[ this is???? what is this. it's coming up to home with him is what it is, left all wrapped up until he can place it carefully down on the kitchen table and dig a little deeper. ... oh. oh my god. John stares at the note, unpacks a couple of glasses, the decanter. looks back to his prescription.
he's laughing when he digs his phone out of his pocket. ]
he's laughing when he digs his phone out of his pocket. ]
[The day after Halloween, a small package with liquor-filled chocolates is delivered, along with a note:
"For such a frightening costume! - CF"
And by costume, she means his every day attire. Oops.]
"For such a frightening costume! - CF"
And by costume, she means his every day attire. Oops.]
[Not that she feels like she did anything wrong, but Claire imagines an apology for that little confrontation on his network post is the polite thing to do.]
Sorry about that.
Sorry about that.
[ god knows he didn't know how to start this conversation, but he's spent a little while letting things defuse on the other end so he's calmer now, seizes up less than he might have done on receipt of the text from Claire ]
No, I'm sorry. I should've seen it coming.
No, I'm sorry. I should've seen it coming.
[Regardless of where John lives currently, yet another package finds its way to his residence, Claire's handwriting addressing it to him by name. Inside the box is this monstrosity. But even better, below that resides this.
(Look, there's even a zipper so you don't have to take the whole thing off when nature calls!)
On the bottom of the box is a note that says I know it's early for Christmas, but I just couldn't wait any longer. Cheers!
Unsigned, but you know damn well who sent it.]
(Look, there's even a zipper so you don't have to take the whole thing off when nature calls!)
On the bottom of the box is a note that says I know it's early for Christmas, but I just couldn't wait any longer. Cheers!
Unsigned, but you know damn well who sent it.]
[ It was probably Claire. Or Bruce. W/E he's leaving a message >| ]
Mr. Watson,
[ At least he has a name to go with the face!!! ]
I don't understand what point you're trying to serve in being so rude to others - both with your message and to me - but I still want to take this chance to apologize if I did offend you during the course of our brief conversation. I don't understand why you reacted the way you did but that is no excuse for my behavior.
[ And the message will cut off before he can say anymore because voicemail is too short for Hobbit apologies apparently. ]
Mr. Watson,
[ At least he has a name to go with the face!!! ]
I don't understand what point you're trying to serve in being so rude to others - both with your message and to me - but I still want to take this chance to apologize if I did offend you during the course of our brief conversation. I don't understand why you reacted the way you did but that is no excuse for my behavior.
[ And the message will cut off before he can say anymore because voicemail is too short for Hobbit apologies apparently. ]
[She debated for a while whether to call or text. Or maybe just corner him in person, but she doesn't really like looming over people, especially when she's annoyed. That's just unfair. So, text it is.]
Does Bilbo Baggins' appearance really bother you that much?
Does Bilbo Baggins' appearance really bother you that much?
Yes.
[ he doesn't dally on it, doesn't let it sit or fester. as soon as he receives the text he shoots the message back, plain and to the point. it does. it honestly does, and while he's frustrated to know his business has landed in Claire's lap, they may as well get this conversation done with. ]
[ he doesn't dally on it, doesn't let it sit or fester. as soon as he receives the text he shoots the message back, plain and to the point. it does. it honestly does, and while he's frustrated to know his business has landed in Claire's lap, they may as well get this conversation done with. ]
[Posted through John's door in a simple brown envelope is a little bit of festive reading.
There's no note, not even any christmassy wrapping paper, although the recipient might be guessed at when this falls from between the pages. In the corner is a faint but readable, FB.
Make of it what you will, John Watson, make of it what you will.]
There's no note, not even any christmassy wrapping paper, although the recipient might be guessed at when this falls from between the pages. In the corner is a faint but readable, FB.
Make of it what you will, John Watson, make of it what you will.]
special delivery IV: it had to happen one last time
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nineteenfortyfive
2016-02-08 11:27 am (UTC)(link)
[She sort of stopped leaving gifts once she began to spend more time with John and Sherlock, choosing to walk inside rather than leave a box and scurry away, but now that the latter is gone is seems like a good time to resume the tradition. She's mostly over the Massacre of the Potted Plants but it means no booze for him. So, he gets two new additions to his wardrobe. They show up when you Google "grandpa sweaters" and Claire certainly thought of him when she saw them in the shop but there's not much humor behind them. They just seemed John-like.
But, to keep it from being too sentimental, she slips a note in the box:
Do your laundry.
xoxoxo Mum]
But, to keep it from being too sentimental, she slips a note in the box:
Do your laundry.
xoxoxo Mum]
[ it takes him a while. a very long, frightened while. the kind of frightened while every person knows, the frightened while of Why Is My Mother Disappointed In Me, and it is after a much extended version of this while that it finally—
oh. oh my god, Claire, do you know how long it's been since I did anything on Mother's Day, oh my god ]
I didn't want you to have to share it with everyone else. Obviously I have many flowers prepared for this the following incredibly special day.
oh. oh my god, Claire, do you know how long it's been since I did anything on Mother's Day, oh my god ]
I didn't want you to have to share it with everyone else. Obviously I have many flowers prepared for this the following incredibly special day.
the evening after the morning after the night before
nineteenfortyfive
2016-03-13 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Free of any Freddies by now, Claire's had some time to mull things over. And that's why John's phone is ringing, Claire's name on the screen, even though she's come to appreciate texting. There's a reason she'd rather talk than type and she's kind enough to not just show up at his door.]
[freddiebaxter.jpg is attached. Someone learned how to take screenshots, so enjoy the first nine comments of that conversation, John. She purposely didn't include the lube one.]
I need another bottle.
I need another bottle.
My husband is here.
[That's the easy part. The happy part. The rest isn't very happy. Things are different--the ruined hand isn't the worst of the damage done to him, but it's the one she can do the most for. It's why she's in a supply room in the hospital, hands shaking, feeling sick to her stomach, texting John. He's a doctor, a modern one, so he must know much more than she and her nine months of studying here in the city. Apparently she knew enough to force the bones back into place and sew his fingers, but she wants to talk to John about it.
Or maybe she just wants to talk to him for her own sake.
She's mentioned to people that she was here to save her husband. He's been saved, they're reunited, but all her suspicions of what he's suffered are looking to be true. Randall made sure to scar Jamie deeper than flesh and bone and Claire hates that it was in part because of her.]
I could use your advice on a hand brace. He's recently had hand surgery, but he needs a brace to keep his fingers still. I have a few but I don't know which is best. I can send you pictures of them.
[Except that's not even that difficult to do, is it?]
[That's the easy part. The happy part. The rest isn't very happy. Things are different--the ruined hand isn't the worst of the damage done to him, but it's the one she can do the most for. It's why she's in a supply room in the hospital, hands shaking, feeling sick to her stomach, texting John. He's a doctor, a modern one, so he must know much more than she and her nine months of studying here in the city. Apparently she knew enough to force the bones back into place and sew his fingers, but she wants to talk to John about it.
Or maybe she just wants to talk to him for her own sake.
She's mentioned to people that she was here to save her husband. He's been saved, they're reunited, but all her suspicions of what he's suffered are looking to be true. Randall made sure to scar Jamie deeper than flesh and bone and Claire hates that it was in part because of her.]
I could use your advice on a hand brace. He's recently had hand surgery, but he needs a brace to keep his fingers still. I have a few but I don't know which is best. I can send you pictures of them.
[Except that's not even that difficult to do, is it?]
[ ...oh! that's not news he's even thought to expect, but it's good news (that's the sort of news that really ought to be good, isn't it, even if they've never much discussed her marriage for him to know one way or the other) and he's about to send back a pleased sort of a text but
then, just as he's got himself together on that notion, she sends through the next.
... hn. congratulation falls to the wayside temporarily. she hadn't given him the time for it, meaning that one of those things is currently more important than the other. ]
Happily. I'll need an idea of the surgery required along with a look at the braces. [ a beat ] Do you want me to come over?
then, just as he's got himself together on that notion, she sends through the next.
... hn. congratulation falls to the wayside temporarily. she hadn't given him the time for it, meaning that one of those things is currently more important than the other. ]
Happily. I'll need an idea of the surgery required along with a look at the braces. [ a beat ] Do you want me to come over?
[ Claire has explained what a phone is, and Jamie has dutifully pretended like he understands. The concept is like nothing he's ever imagined though, and so it's a little far from his grasp. Still, he's jumping in head first, he doesn't have much other choice.
She told him to speak to John, told him he was a medic with experience. He trusts her, and so he 'calls'. It's the first time he's ever used one of these things, and so he doesn't really know what to expect. It's making a noise, which is probably the right thing? ]
She told him to speak to John, told him he was a medic with experience. He trusts her, and so he 'calls'. It's the first time he's ever used one of these things, and so he doesn't really know what to expect. It's making a noise, which is probably the right thing? ]
[Of course she was nosy, and of course today calls for a gift. As tempted as she is to find some more hideous clothing or a fire extinguisher to give him, Claire settles on something classic. There's a simple card with the box.
To one of my dearest friends in any world or time, a happy birthday. I believe people still wear these.
Unsigned, but he'll know.]
To one of my dearest friends in any world or time, a happy birthday. I believe people still wear these.
Unsigned, but he'll know.]
[The pub Freddie booked for John's 'party' (largely a motley collection of hospital staff as the only people he could be certain to have spoken to the man more than twice) practically had to start stacking chairs onto tables before it managed to clear them out.
People are stumbling in different directions home, but Freddie realises halfway out the door that he's left a bag tucked under a table leg, and has to dive back inside for it before they bar the doors. He emerges with bag hooked over his wrist, stolen pint glass with half of the contents remaining, and a white box.
The pint, and the box, are offered to the man outside in a crown that could have been made for the Burger King (and probably was) with streamers caught on the fuzzy bits of his jacket, and a sash stretched across his chest reading BIRTHDAY BOY.]
You forgot your cake.
[A giant frosted hello kitty, covered in sprinkles and cut into slices for every guest. Freddie has a slice, too. It's tucked in with John's.]
So, do you feel like a grown-up yet?
People are stumbling in different directions home, but Freddie realises halfway out the door that he's left a bag tucked under a table leg, and has to dive back inside for it before they bar the doors. He emerges with bag hooked over his wrist, stolen pint glass with half of the contents remaining, and a white box.
The pint, and the box, are offered to the man outside in a crown that could have been made for the Burger King (and probably was) with streamers caught on the fuzzy bits of his jacket, and a sash stretched across his chest reading BIRTHDAY BOY.]
You forgot your cake.
[A giant frosted hello kitty, covered in sprinkles and cut into slices for every guest. Freddie has a slice, too. It's tucked in with John's.]
So, do you feel like a grown-up yet?
Oh yeah. It think it's this that's doing it. [ box accepted and tucked haphazardly under his arm, John tugs at his sash in punctuation, grinning as he takes a swig from the pilfered glass.
no, not remotely, maybe even less so than I did 12 hours ago and frankly thank God for that. he's slightly fuzzy around the edges, loose enough to not have stopped smiling for long anytime in the last hour, and that's nice, isn't it? hadn't expected to be doing anything today. hadn't made any plans, hadn't even known if he was going to bother to count it - what's getting older in Eudio, anyway? but here he is, here they are, here his birthday sash tells him to just bloody get on with it and so he had and so he will continue to now, happily.
Freddie Baxter, as always, has a lot to answer for. ] Might keep it on all year, see if the effects last.
no, not remotely, maybe even less so than I did 12 hours ago and frankly thank God for that. he's slightly fuzzy around the edges, loose enough to not have stopped smiling for long anytime in the last hour, and that's nice, isn't it? hadn't expected to be doing anything today. hadn't made any plans, hadn't even known if he was going to bother to count it - what's getting older in Eudio, anyway? but here he is, here they are, here his birthday sash tells him to just bloody get on with it and so he had and so he will continue to now, happily.
Freddie Baxter, as always, has a lot to answer for. ] Might keep it on all year, see if the effects last.
![[IMG ATTACHMENT]](https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/08/18/01/52/night-893212_960_720.jpg){kind=link}
I have a laundry basket full of plaid and jumpers. I never knew you to be a fashion inspiration, John Watson, but I suppose I have seen stranger things.
[A morning, about 4am. Summer's making its approach known by faintly lightening the sky at this hour in preparation for an early dawn. And habit, instinct or a measure of both are tugging Freddie awake, even when he's comfortably settled in a tangle of warm limbs. Some waking part of the back of his mind steps in to let him know that if he lingers now he'll need to deal with morning goodbyes - or pleas to linger - discoveries of someone's cereal or toast habit, trying to figure out their shower.
Sometimes he'll stay for all these things, but there's almost always this early morning wake up call blinking his eyes open so he can check.
This morning, his eyelashes graze against John Watson's cheek.
They've fucked in a bed, now. Is that a milestone? Not one Freddie consciously ticks off, though he notes the curtains left open in haste: a lamp tumbled off the bedside table. Clothes fucking everywhere. He watches John, oblivious to all of this in sleep, and walks a fingertip path down his chest to where the blankets twist around his waist.
Freddie's quiet as he leaves the bed, barely unsettling the sheets. He knows the route to the bathroom and pads that way without stopping to reclaim any of his clothes.
It's five minutes later, maybe ten, before he's climbing back in again - on John's side, far less subtly, more treating him like a hurdle in a late-night obstacle course. Hi.]
Sometimes he'll stay for all these things, but there's almost always this early morning wake up call blinking his eyes open so he can check.
This morning, his eyelashes graze against John Watson's cheek.
They've fucked in a bed, now. Is that a milestone? Not one Freddie consciously ticks off, though he notes the curtains left open in haste: a lamp tumbled off the bedside table. Clothes fucking everywhere. He watches John, oblivious to all of this in sleep, and walks a fingertip path down his chest to where the blankets twist around his waist.
Freddie's quiet as he leaves the bed, barely unsettling the sheets. He knows the route to the bathroom and pads that way without stopping to reclaim any of his clothes.
It's five minutes later, maybe ten, before he's climbing back in again - on John's side, far less subtly, more treating him like a hurdle in a late-night obstacle course. Hi.]
[ John Watson is a selective waker. sometimes all it takes is a foot on the stair, sometimes he can stubbornly sleep through frantic violin strains. today, rousing occurs on a return, on the set of a knee to mattress, and is relatively swift. Freddie takes no pains to keep him sleeping but the effort he goes to to almost ensure he wakes up is lost on a man immediately awake enough to reach an arm up as a body's halfway travelled over him, scoop it about the waist and tug it down at his side. he keeps his hold firm as he rolls himself after, eyes still closed and a sleepy hum vibrating up from the back of his throat into whatever bit of his captive he can find to lazily set his lips to. ]
What sort of time d'you call this?
[ his voice may be gravelled and hushed with sleep but he is, undoubtedly, awake. not opening his eyes yet, but awake.
hi. ]
What sort of time d'you call this?
[ his voice may be gravelled and hushed with sleep but he is, undoubtedly, awake. not opening his eyes yet, but awake.
hi. ]
[ ba-ding. well, that can wait. he's finishing his round, checking in with a colleague, grabbing his things from his office, wandering out of the building before he gets to checking his phone - the buzz of it is rarely anything that can't wait.
except for today.
oh my god. ]
except for today.
oh my god. ]
Edited 2016-05-25 21:14 (UTC)
I'm holding my first ever housewarming party this weekend. Please tell me you'll come in case my blood pressure floors me.
[ There is a bit of a pause, almost as if a prank call with someone breathing heavily in the background.
And then — ]
Urm... Dr. Watson?
[ He could just use John's first name, but he thinks this way it'll seem more urgent. ]
I think I might need your help.
And then — ]
Urm... Dr. Watson?
[ He could just use John's first name, but he thinks this way it'll seem more urgent. ]
I think I might need your help.
[ John's drowsy when the call comes in, but not asleep (the joys of being, quite literally, on call - but this isn't his work line). he answers, waits, sighs, is about to scrub his hand down his face and hang up—
oh.
a quick check of the username on the screen, slowly checking back over his memory. ah right, yeah. ]
Right. [ it's only accidentally blunt. he'd been nodding off, the switch between sleep and alertness present in the clear of his throat and softness of his tone. ] What's the matter?
oh.
a quick check of the username on the screen, slowly checking back over his memory. ah right, yeah. ]
Right. [ it's only accidentally blunt. he'd been nodding off, the switch between sleep and alertness present in the clear of his throat and softness of his tone. ] What's the matter?
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