thecapitol | [OPEN]

Entry tags:

[OPEN]

Who| John Watson and OPEN
What| John's been having a lot of trouble sleeping and settling since waking up in the Capitol, and so is doing a lot of wandering for wandering's sake, catching up with friends (or at least people who haven't murdered him) ~~and going on adorable coffee-dates with Effie~~ Basically this is here to catch all
Where| Wandering around the capitol
When| Any time after his death, just let me know when you want to set things in the title of your reply pls
Warnings/Notes| Possible mentions of PTSD?

Death, John decided, was something no-one should have to live through. Where being shot and being absolutely certain he was going to die had been terrible, and had taken months of physical and psychological rehabilitation, dying and being brought back in a perfectly functional body was much more of a disorientating disconnect. He felt detached from reality.

Before Sherlock had rejoined him in the Capitol, John had spent much of his time trying to prove to himself that he was actually here, not always consciously. He walked as far as he could along the streets, visited strange little cafes and bars and hauled himself back to his suite, exhausted and burned out, hoping he'd be too tired to dream. His mood lifted a little once his friend returned, and there were a few notable people whose company he not only enjoyed but looked forward to enjoying, but the itch to get out for the sake of getting out only intensified the longer the days dragged on. There was nothing comfortable about life here, no routine he could settle into and feel like he had a handle on. The long and short of it was, he was useless here in the Capitol, and it was eating away at him.

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"My booboos?" he says with a cocked eyebrow. He sips his coffee. "They weren't what did me in. The hand got worse, as the weeks went by, but whatever. It's kind of nice to be able to drink again without drooling all over myself."

He takes a seat, tiny in the chair, looking smaller slouched onto his shoulders. The nubs of his vertebrae show through the back of his shirt.

John wet his lips and sat down opposite, holding his tea with both hands.
"Yeah. You look- Howard, you can tell me to drop it, but there are certain kinds of food that are more helpful than others, and I'd be happy to draw up a plan for you, if you wanted it."

"Is that code for 'stop drinking so damn much coffee'?" He giggles a bit, but it's forced. It trails off into him running his tongue over his lower lip nervously. "You deal with- you deal with this every day, don't you?"

He smiled, ruefully. "Starvation, not so much. Unless that wasn't what you meant. But- a little less coffee might not be a bad plan."

"Oh. That." He was talking about the nervousness - he remembers the knowing way John looked at him before the last Arena, how Howard had assumed John was looking at it from a doctor's perspective, how his mind is changing on it to realize John may have more intimate experience with it, now that he's seen John after an Arena.

"I like the taste of the coffee. But yeah, um, advice for that would be good? I'm just trying to put the weight back on so I don't look like a strong breeze would break my little toothpick body." He folds his arms and leans back in his chair. "I'm kind of just eating everything people put in front of me but I guess it doesn't do much good when it makes me sick."

"You wouldn't have to cut coffee out completely. Just make sure you're eating nutritious calories rather than empty ones, and then you don't have to worry so much about getting full without getting what you need. More protein and unsaturated fats- I can write you a list, if you like." He paused, and sipped his tea thoughtfully.

"But that's not what you meant, is it?"

Howard nods, watching John's mouth form words that should mean something to him, proteins and the like. Then he shakes his head.

"No, I mean, you kind of look like I did after the last Arena. That's all I'm saying. And last time you didn't treat me like I just needed to learn to trust people and that there's nothing to be afraid of here, so I figured you had experience."

He nodded. "Yeah. No, it's- it's fine. I've been there." He cut himself off, wetting his lips and looking down into his tea, deciding against taking a sip.

"I don't know if you ever want to talk about it. I didn't."

"No. I don't either." That seems to be the other thing people keep impressing on Howard, that he should open up and talk about how he feels. He doesn't want to talk about how he feels. He doesn't want to talk about how he feels stupid and scared and then stupid for feeling scared. He just doesn't want to feel those things at all.

"It's just, you know. Nice to not have someone jumping down my throat about it." He takes a drink of the coffee. "So. You guys ever figure the little pillars out?"

"I think Sherlock did, but he didn't seem to think it was all that important," John said, sipping at his tea thoughtfully, perfectly content to let their understanding go unspoken. "He's a bit preoccupied, lately."

"Why do you hang out with that guy? He's kind of a tool."

Howard's tone sounds very close to possessive.

"Yeah, he can be, sometimes," he laughed, the fondness in his tone entirely obvious. "But I wasn't exactly easy to live with either, back home, and we work well together. He needs someone to make sure he eats and keeps up with all the boring things- banks, laundry, so on."

"Oh." Howard looks down into his coffee, and fidgets the edge of the tablecloth nervously. "I have-I had one of those."

He didn't take John to be the controlling type, but maybe they're more alike than he first guessed, he thinks. That's what Howard likes about being nurturing, that it gives him a sense of power to have someone need him. To have someone who can't afford to leave.

"You don't seem like you'd be that hard to live with to me."

"Used to have one hell of an anger problem," John remarked, almost cheerfully. "I don't mean I was violent, I just used to have a hair trigger on it. I'd shout at little old ladies for the most ridiculous reasons, fall over myself trying to apologise immediately after, that kind of thing. At least with Sherlock he gives me plenty of build-up first before I snap, so I don't scare myself quite so badly. The man's got a face that screams to be punched more often then not."

Howard makes an amused snorting sound, then seems to realize that that's inappropriate and covers his face with one hand. "If I were the punching kind of person I'd agree. I don't know, violent doesn't really bother me, even. Angry but not violent sounds like a cakewalk."

John laughed, amused by Howard's attempt to hide his amusement. He could read between the lines well enough, or at least well enough to see the edges of the place Howard wouldn't want touched on- so he made no comment about violence.

"You say that, but you haven't heard me go off on one yet, have you? I really do just explode. It's not pretty."

"Why, is it like some kind of Christian Bale thing? Do you make little kids cry?"

"Children? No. That's Sherlock- he makes them cry, and I focus on our harmless old landlady," he told him with a grin. "No, you're safe these days. It's like an earthquake- plenty of small ones keeps the large one at bay. It's hard to muster up much of an inappropriately angry response to someone being polite about your war wounds when you found a human head in the fridge that morning."

Howard just gives John a blank stare for a moment.

Then, quietly, "okay, that's...there's probably a good explanation for that. We had a kidnapped girl tied up in our basement and there was a good reason for that, so human heads are like. Okay. Sure."

"Decomposition experiment," he attempted to explain with a weak smile. "I've lost count of the number of times I've told Sherlock to keep his work out of my kitchen."

He paused, glancing down at his tea. Well, that was an odd thing to miss, wasn't it? Berating your flatmate for using your home as a morgue.

"Don't think we ever had someone kidnapped and tied up in the flat though, so you've got that one on me. Oh. No, we-- one time."

"Probably neither of us should mention that to people when we meet them the first time. They'll think we're creepy."

It makes Howard smile, to have someone who'll talk about the chaos that is their lives with ease and humor. Instead of with revulsion or with pity, instead of treating him like a circus freak or charity project. He finishes his coffee.

"You wanna show me what some of that food I should be eating is?" The cafe has pastries and oatmeals and fruits.

He laughed, companionably. "You're probably right. One of those things we should keep to ourselves."

Glancing over at the displays of food behind the counter, he nodded. "I think you should probably work on muscle mass, so anything we do to give you a more effective diet you need to make use of with exercise too. Just food isn't going to be enough, but I can give you a few pointers. Protein- eggs, actually, they'd be great, and less sugar. Do you like nuts?"

Howard raises an eyebrow and laughs a little incredulously. "Are you suggesting I lift weights?"

He orders a breakfast sandwich with ham and eggs, and a few packages of almonds too. When the cashier rings him up, he rummages through his pockets for a conspicuously, awkwardly long time, waiting for someone to say something.

"I'm suggesting we team up a dietary plan with some physical rehab, yes."
After letting Howard play at producing his wallet for a while he smiled, fully aware he was being played-- but pulled out his own card none the less. He offered it to the cashier. "On me, I think, this time. But next time, it's yours, alright?"

"That makes it sound like I'm detoxing for drugs." He takes one of the packages of nuts and rips it open. "Doesn't exercise burn calories, though? I mean, the only thing I'm really good at is running."

He nods vigorously. "Sure. Sure thing. Thank you."

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