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betonitIt was a dark and stormy afternoon –– the type where all anyone really wants to do is sit inside and grouse about the weather over a cup of coffee and the newspaper. John Watson, unfortunately, was doing quite the opposite of that (minus the grousing part – he was complaining quite a bit, albeit inwardly). It seemed that every Very Important Errand he'd ever had in his life had chosen to fall on this particularly nasty day, and so he'd been forced out into the blustery hellishness of the storm.
The morning hadn't started out all that bad, actually. The thunder and wind had put a slight damper on Watson's spirit but he'd shrugged it off and reassured himself that a spot of bad weather wasn't enough to ruin an entire day, and he set off with that idea set firmly in mind. Not forty minutes later, his mood was already souring. The rain was proving to be too much even for an umbrella and he was getting soaked just walking from carriage to shopfront. Each building he entered seemed to house at least one person willing to happily remark on his miserable state as they sat cozy and dry with their crackling fires and brimming tea cups. At one point a carriage passed too closely to a nearby puddle and Watson found himself with a pair of sopping wet shoes in turn.
It was understandable that he was fed up with everything and everyone by the time he returned from his errands that day. The last thing he wanted was to find Sherlock up to doing any number of the odd things he was prone to, or to be met by an officer begging for help on whatever new case was baffling Lestrade. He just wanted to read the bloody paper. Of course, things were rarely quite so easy, no matter how much one hoped.
"I'm back," he announced flatly as he stepped inside and shut the door.
[ooc: Open to everyone! This can be set post-game of shadows or pre-first movie or even "bizarre alien universe with dinosaurs and monsters" if you want, just let me know! Prose or action tags are fine – I just want to practice with this guy.]
The morning hadn't started out all that bad, actually. The thunder and wind had put a slight damper on Watson's spirit but he'd shrugged it off and reassured himself that a spot of bad weather wasn't enough to ruin an entire day, and he set off with that idea set firmly in mind. Not forty minutes later, his mood was already souring. The rain was proving to be too much even for an umbrella and he was getting soaked just walking from carriage to shopfront. Each building he entered seemed to house at least one person willing to happily remark on his miserable state as they sat cozy and dry with their crackling fires and brimming tea cups. At one point a carriage passed too closely to a nearby puddle and Watson found himself with a pair of sopping wet shoes in turn.
It was understandable that he was fed up with everything and everyone by the time he returned from his errands that day. The last thing he wanted was to find Sherlock up to doing any number of the odd things he was prone to, or to be met by an officer begging for help on whatever new case was baffling Lestrade. He just wanted to read the bloody paper. Of course, things were rarely quite so easy, no matter how much one hoped.
"I'm back," he announced flatly as he stepped inside and shut the door.
[ooc: Open to everyone! This can be set post-game of shadows or pre-first movie or even "bizarre alien universe with dinosaurs and monsters" if you want, just let me know! Prose or action tags are fine – I just want to practice with this guy.]
