[OPEN]

[drpsychosomatic]

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.

Comments

[gruesome]

"It's strange, isn't that? Like they've all had a part of their soul cored out."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Not that strange, if you know enough human history," John sighed. "People can be exceedingly cruel and ignorant, sadly. This wouldn't even be the first time round for arena deathmatches- have you met our resident Gladiator?"

[gruesome]

"I don't think so- is that a species?" Maybe the blue woman he'd met, with the tail?

[drpsychosomatic]

"No, it's a... well, a profession. You could ask him about it, I suppose- Maximus Decimus Meridius, from district 3. Gladiators are originally from a from a few thousand years in my past, in the Roman Empire. A gladiator was a kind of slave, usually, and they fought each other to death in an arena for the entertainment of the crowd." He sighed. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it."

[gruesome]

"Oh, I have heard that name." He nodded - he could even tentatively link it to a face. "And that sounds very much like this... Do you know if he would rather be here, or there?"

[drpsychosomatic]

"I get the feeling he had something rather important he was in the middle of, back home," John mused. "It's not easy to get more than a few words out of him, but I think he has unfinished business. How about yourself? I assume you'd rather be home. God knows I would."

[gruesome]

"Oh. Oh, not home, no, but back in the city before this one. I had made a family there, a little one. But not home. I would not live easily with grues again."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Gone a bit native?" John suggested, trying to think of a reason Some would rather be here than home. There'd been another grue arrived in the Capitol recently, apparently- perhaps that had shaken him a little.

[gruesome]

"Yes, a little. Nearly four years with the humans. And I have fallen in love with a few. Giving all of that up? That would be... like cutting myself in half again."

[drpsychosomatic]

He raised his eyebrows, a reaction he tried to clamp down on as soon as he realised it was happening. It was just that he'd never expected Some to have fallen in love with a human.

"And you wouldn't be able to go home without giving that up. I see."

[gruesome]

He nodded. That was the simple, less disturbing version. "I love my family, and I always will, but there will be children with their tooth-names who have never known me. My little siblings will be married away. My father must be gone." He said it casually, but the smile he wore on his lower mouth, the one that wasn't speaking, was brittle and thin.

"The families that I can make here will be with people who know me, and there will be a place for me."

[drpsychosomatic]

John nodded in response, not knowing exactly what to say to that. It seemed noble, in a way, stoic and forward-looking. He admired Some for it.

"I don't doubt it," he offered eventually.

[gruesome]

He shook himself slightly, and resettled his hat. "Yourself? What is home, for you?"

[drpsychosomatic]

John smiled, glancing up as he thought about it. Before Sherlock, it might have been a difficult question to answer.
"A little two-bedroom flat in Baker Street, London," he said, his voice soft and fond despite his best efforts. "Messy, covered in Sherlock's books, kitchen full of his experiments- but comfortable."

[gruesome]

Oh, so they were a family. Some had assumed, but not known for certain.

"I have had that. Conrad was very, very tidy, but Rapunzel was not. She made art, everywhere, on anything left out long enough."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Sherlock plays violin at times in the morning that don't even exist for civilised people," John laughed. "But- I have to admit, I miss it. I can't relax without knowing where he is, now. Strange, isn't it? I almost think that if we had a flat like ours back home, I could do the Games."

[gruesome]

"That that would be enough to make it- well- worth it? Yes, I can understand that." Completely.