Chronicler of the Musings of a Madman

[speciesofhurt]

Hello.

Welcome to an independent roleplaying blog for the character, Dr. John. H. Watson. My writing will be heavily based on the books written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle with influence from the movies starring Robert Downey jr. and Jude Law.

Rules || Headcanons || Verses

As you might notice, this blog is still under construction. However, do give this post a heart if you would be interested in writing with me.

(Hi. I promise I'm really nice. Don't let the attitude intimidate you. Is just to fit the theme of the blog XD. Feel free to send me a dm too to plot or just chat.)

Follows from: @bakerstreetirregular

[speciesofhurt]

"please, it is just a bump to the head, I'll be fine" / @tcbefearless from Amelia Holmes

*****

"There now, Amelia," his fingers gingerly felt the lump, trying to circumscribe its margins, "I'd have expected you to know better than to neglect a head injury." A mockingly stern look was given to the patient while he wrung a damp cloth over a small basin.

True, there wasn't much concern he felt about this. It didn't appear to be anything too nasty. And yet, all the basic precautions must be taken. Oh.. what would Holmes say?

"I hope you have a proper explanation for your father when he returns."

[speciesofhurt]

If anyone had told Watson previously that he would be sharing rooms with a man of such nature as that of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and that he would survive more than a year of it, he would not have been inclined to believe them. Over the year, his impression of the detective has been ever-changing. It was never firmly decided upon - the exact nature of his flatmate. There were always... contradictions; errors in theory.

His current state of mind was a new one. Perhaps he had held the man in too generous of a light. In place of the brilliant mind and saviour of the misfortuned, now stood a brute.

Watson wasn't foreign to acts of self-sacrifice. They came as second nature to him. We may call it an unwelcome residue of his time abroad. As such, when he put himself between his friend and that gun, it was natural. What was not natural was his friend's response.

He'd understood that the softer sentiments were not something Sherlock Holmes was particularly well-versed in. He hadn't expected a grand gesture of gratitude. Of course not. But this was simply absurd. He didn't understand why, but it hurt him to be so rudely ignored and pushed away by a man he adored. Hurt usually translated to anger in Watson.

"Then, why don't you, sir?" He spat, taking a moment to stare firmly at his ridiculously dramatic friend. "It would not make any difference, clearly, to our present living arrangements." The last bit was spoken to the newspaper in his hand.

[thegoodnessofprovidence]

To hear the person closest to a dear friend confirm that his threatened absence would mean as much as his presence turned Holmes's blood to ice. If he'd truly lost sight of his behavior and ruined the loyalty his flatmate had placed in him- that gnawing feeling had a name now: fear, dread? There is no doubt that Watson has been responsible for extending Holmes's lifespan a little more with every shared adventure. It is in Holmes's self-interest to maintain his association with Watson, but how...

Practice asking.

The tension slowly unwound from Holmes's posture until all that was left was a great weariness in body and voice.

"Watson, you leave me at a loss for words." The newspaper was a very popular item this morning. Holmes turned his gaze to that safe middle ground, not yet ready to confront his errors head on. "Why would you endanger yourself over a man for whom you feel such extreme indifference?"

[speciesofhurt]

In the few seconds that were taken to answer the mild outburst of his repressed sentiments, he couldn't deny that there was some instant regret for his words. It was buried deep within several layers of hurt and confusion. But why was he feeling regret?

Ah, perhaps, it was because somewhere inside him, Watson, in his own way, understood the complex nature of his flatmate. A part of him was open to the idea that Sherlock Holmes might just be at unease with such brash expressions of feelings. Those that were nothing less than second nature to Watson.

However, this mature insight didn't seem to be presenting itself to him too willingly that, for the moment, Watson was simply covered in hurt. He felt himself slowly releasing his clenched hand. When had that happened?

A slow, tired exhale escapes him. "Holmes, my dear fellow, after all this time, is that how you really feel about us?" His gaze was now fixed upon Holmes. Until their eyes met. "That we are just two people who are indifferent to each other's existence?" Perhaps, there was disappointment laced in his words, unintentionally.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

❛  are you always so competitive?  ❜ ❛  are you okay? are you hurt?  ❜ ❛  are you sure you can do this on your own?  ❜ ❛  are you thinking what i'm thinking?  ❜ ❛  can you go take care of this, please?  ❜ ❛  can you show me how to fight?  ❜ ❛  can you tell me more about your adventures?  ❜ ❛  do you believe in ghosts?  ❜ ❛  do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?  ❜ ❛  does it really have to be like this?  ❜ ❛  don't you think you've already done enough damage for one day?  ❜ ❛  has no one ever given you a compliment before?  ❜ ❛  have i ever told you how beautiful you look in the glow of the moonlight?  ❜ ❛  have you noticed anything different about me lately?  ❜ ❛  haven't you ever wondered why i never talk about my childhood?  ❜ ❛  how can you just go to sleep like nothing happened?  ❜ ❛  how many more people have to suffer before you realize your madness?  ❜ ❛  is there anything else i can do for you?  ❜ ❛  is this really how you want this to end?  ❜ ❛  isn't it ironic?  ❜ ❛  what are your plans for today?  ❜ ❛  what else do you want me to say?  ❜ ❛  what else have you hidden from me?  ❜ ❛  what happened here? where is all that smoke coming from?  ❜ ❛  what has happened in your life that made you like this?  ❜ ❛  when were you going to tell me?  ❜ ❛  where are we supposed to go from here?  ❜ ❛  who will be able to stop them now?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just act like a normal person?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just leave me alone?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just stay focused?  ❜ ❛  why does everything always have to be so complicated?  ❜ ❛  why should i believe you now when you've told nothing but lies?  ❜ ❛  why won't you just tell me what i did wrong?  ❜ ❛  will it ever stop hurting so much?  ❜ ❛  will you go out on a date with me?  ❜ ❛  will you just shut up and kiss me already?  ❜ ❛  will you please text me when you get home safely?  ❜ ❛  you're completely out of your element here, aren't you?  ❜

[speciesofhurt]

you and i know what happened .  or at least can guess

From @tcbefearless

*****

"But it's him." There was defeat in his voice. "When have we ever been able to guess what exactly goes on in his head?"

He glanced once at the door that stood ajar through which their mutual subject of concern had disappeared yet again. "Still, I suppose you understand him better than I do." Was that a tinge of hurt?

"What do you make of this?"

[tcbefearless]

It was unusual for John and Irene to be on the same page, they never saw eye to eye, not that Irene blamed the Doctor. Blue hues looked up briefly before going down to her hands where she fiddled with her thumbs. "He thought I was dead.." Irene breathed, although it hadn't been her intention for Holmes to think that. Irene had barely any day at all when it came to James Moriarty.

"One thing I know about Sherlock Holmes, is that when he cares, he cares greatly. Right now I can gather shock that I am alive and he doesn't know how to process it" Irene would have arrived sooner, but she had to make sure that Moriarty was off the table before that happened. "He kept a file and photo of me from Bohemia, I don't see him doing that for anyone else" Of course she has noticed that little detail.

"I was going to ask for some tea, but I don't suppose you have anything stronger? Do you Doctor Watson?"

[speciesofhurt]

Eyeing the other with some (alright, a lot) of apprehension, Watson moves for the canister while giving some verbal indication of his thoughts. "You're right, you know?" Fingers quickly uncap and tilt the bottle. Two glasses. "He thinks a great deal about you. I would even go so far as to say he admires you." That was probably one of the highest compliments one could receive.

"Your talents are unparalleled by any other he says." He hands her a glass. "And yet, I find it confusing, as to why you didn't employ any of said talents to perhaps give him the slightest indication? Hmm?" Now, his expression was one that was glaring, not very much unlike a dog. "I don't think it would have been difficult for you to send a discreet message? Or do you just enjoy watching him dance?"

[speciesofhurt]

Oh, they were absolutely enjoying this, weren't they? Of course, Watson couldn't have that. No, he would not admit defeat so easily.

Gently, folding the newspaper, Watson peered into Holmes' eyes in return. "I was merely being polite, old chap. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Then again, if you didn't enjoy me 'pestering' you so much, you wouldn't have me around now, would you?" He moved to stand up, never taking his eyes off the other. "So, why don't you spare us both... whatever this is and just tell me what the lady wanted that had to be so discreetly mentioned?" A light smile on his lips, he waited for Holmes' answer.

[elementxrymydear]

Sherlock didn't make an effort to move, they did enjoy this, very much so." Since you asked so kindly Watson I will share with you what she has told me in confidence, nothing to exciting I assure you but curious nonetheless." With that they took a step back, turning completely so that they could reach the desk in the room, holding up a letter that had been left behind.

" She came to me with a request, you see, someone has sent this lady a letter declaring to steal her precious jewels, her husband seems to be a collector of sorts, gifting her something new every so often." They hum." There is no address on the envelope and only her name is written on the back."

[speciesofhurt]

Of course, the prospect of a new puzzle at hand immediately distracted Watson from his childish envy. Then again, this fascination with puzzles could also be termed childish, couldn't it?

" 'Collector', you say?" He stepped forward towards Holmes and the letter in his hand. "Perhaps someone is hoping for 're possession' of lost items?" Watson was now completely absorbed by the mystery. What an excellent strategy, Holmes.

"But Holmes, if there was no address, how could she have got the letter? It certainly wouldn't have been delivered to her?"

[speciesofhurt]

you and i know what happened .  or at least can guess

From @tcbefearless

*****

"But it's him." There was defeat in his voice. "When have we ever been able to guess what exactly goes on in his head?"

He glanced once at the door that stood ajar through which their mutual subject of concern had disappeared yet again. "Still, I suppose you understand him better than I do." Was that a tinge of hurt?

"What do you make of this?"

[ohisms]

↪     𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑷𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑺 .    (  a  series  of  sentence  starters  from  a  collection  of   gothic short stories .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .   this  post  will  be  updated .  )  

that is a weird story ,  which will only haunt you if i tell it .

i like weird tales ,  &  they never trouble me .

you’ll be sorry for it ,  &  so shall i ,  perhaps .

a dreadful sense of loneliness oppressed me .

i’ve gone back a little to refresh my memory .

i can find my way back to you .

let us get out of this horrible place at once .

other men have passed here before us .

we may find something rare  &  precious here .

i never have quite forgiven myself for stealing it .

i brought it away as a souvenir .

i have a little surprise for you ,  my love .

you are foolishly superstitious .

neither sleep ,  food,  nor air gives me strength .

i told no one ,  i wanted to surprise you with it .

wake up  &  answer me !

i cherish the theory that the soul sometimes lingers in the body after death .

i should like to see justice done to it .

you believe in the soul as an independent entity ,  then ?

nobody would go near the place .

you and i know what happened .  or at least can guess .

don’t you recognize me ?

you shouldn’t leave your sentences unfinished .

i was just going home .

i’ll gladly come in ,  if you’ll allow me .

i must get back as quick as i can ,  it will be dark in a few minutes .

you must come with me .

i won’t stand for such nonsense ,  now .

good heavens ,  it’s a man’s body !

i wish the wind would go down .

you’ve been gone so long ,  i thought something must have happened to you .

the elements are always the true immortals .

i don’t mean that ,  of course .

shows how lonely this place is .

what else ,  in the name of heaven ,  what else ?

you know ,  i saw it before you did .

don’t keep pretending you hear things .

the best thing you can do is just keep quiet .

come  &  listen ,  &  see what you make of it .

haven’t i explained all that once ?

i can’t disguise it any longer .

i don’t like this place .  the darkness ,  &  the noises ,  &  the awful feelings i get .

we must keep our minds quiet .

&  what do you propose ?

i slept badly a little after dawn .

the wind won’t account for all the noises .

were you awake all last night ?

the only thing for us to do is to go on as though nothing had happened .

the less we think about them the better .

i dare not put the thought into words .

[beebssources]

Reblog  this  post  to  let  your  followers  know  you're  fine  with  being  tagged  in  random  starters.  Additionally,  reblog  this  post  if  you're  all  right  with  being  sent  old memes,  no  matter  how long ago you reblogged them.

[speciesofhurt]

"No!" That came out rather too quick and loud for his liking.

"Of course I'm not... that." His interest in his newspaper grew very much in that moment, and his mouth grew small. "What you do in your own time, Holmes, is your own business. And if you don't wish to include me, I shan't intrude, of course." He all but mumbled to the newspaper, eyes too fixated on one spot, unmoving.

Oh, but he did. He very much wanted to intrude.

[elementxrymydear]

"No." Sherlock repeats, the newspaper now discarded to the side." Yet I'm not convinced my dear friend." Pushing themselves from their sit, Holmes takes careful steps towards Watson, now that he had peaked their interest they would not let go so easily, teasing him was part of the fun.

" Then why even ask if you were not interested Watson? Seems counter productive." A slender finger pushes down on the paper, there was nowhere to hide." I always wish to included you but having you ask does delight me quite a bit."

[speciesofhurt]

Oh, they were absolutely enjoying this, weren't they? Of course, Watson couldn't have that. No, he would not admit defeat so easily.

Gently, folding the newspaper, Watson peered into Holmes' eyes in return. "I was merely being polite, old chap. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Then again, if you didn't enjoy me 'pestering' you so much, you wouldn't have me around now, would you?" He moved to stand up, never taking his eyes off the other. "So, why don't you spare us both... whatever this is and just tell me what the lady wanted that had to be so discreetly mentioned?" A light smile on his lips, he waited for Holmes' answer.

[elementxrymydear]

@speciesofhurt

"did you two have a nice chat?"

Sherlock stops their reading, slowly glancing over at Watson from the newspaper, they had been waiting for him to speak up, say anything. " Yes, we had a lovely chat." They decide then that reading could wait, wanting their full attention on the man in front of them." Watson, are you jealous? I would be happy to share any details you may be curious to."

[speciesofhurt]

"No!" That came out rather too quick and loud for his liking.

"Of course I'm not... that." His interest in his newspaper grew very much in that moment, and his mouth grew small. "What you do in your own time, Holmes, is your own business. And if you don't wish to include me, I shan't intrude, of course." He all but mumbled to the newspaper, eyes too fixated on one spot, unmoving.

Oh, but he did. He very much wanted to intrude.

[speciesofhurt]

OOC: Looking to be active on here again. Like if you'd like to chat about writing something. ❤️

[thegoodnessofprovidence]

shield and glare

@speciesofhurt

[  shield  ]  sender  steps  between  receiver  and  danger...

The midnight chimes marked a fortnight since the Incident.

It lasted all of sixty seconds. But in that span, Holmes felt fear, loss, and everything in between. Watson and Holmes had been in pursuit of their latest quarry, some forgettable thief that happened to steal from the wrong shipment of precious goods and had eluded capture by Scotland Yard. When they were finally upon him, the most terrible thing happened- Watson tackled the thief who had already taken aim at Holmes and attempted to fire upon him.

The shot was of course, a miss. Watson easily held the useless thief in place until Lestrade and his constables arrived not moments later. They would go home together and breathe relief over having solved another one. It was a success.

But to Holmes it was the Incident. If he gave it any more further thought or lingered on a detail, a terrible gnawing feeling from within would overcome him and any attempt at completing a task at hand that required a modicum of focus would be lost completely. It was for his benefit- everyone's benefit, really- that he absolutely, did not think about this and forgot about it completely.

This brought out the worst in him.

& [  glare  ]  sender  is  still  hurt  after  an  argument.

Typically, 221B Baker Street was not home to long-lived grudges, bleak sentiments, or hurt feelings, especially when held against anyone other than the poor fellow who possessed such a mood. Left to their own devices, Holmes and Watson could usually sort out their respective black moods with a little time and patience. Neither was ever the target of the other one's discontentment. Until the Incident.

The companionable bickering that gave way to thoughtful discussions over the paper had deteriorated into Holmes lashing out at Watson every time he thought too much about what didn't happen. And it had not waned in the fourteen days since the Incident.

"I'm going out- you expect me to share confinement within these walls with you every night?"

"It- anything you have to say, do, feel- makes no difference to me."

"I have no desire to spend another moment with you outside of that which is necessary as lodgers."

Somewhere along the way, Holmes must have struck a nerve, because he had noticed a change in Watson's demeanor. Quiet, timid, his spirits dimmed, as though he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Holmes caught a glimpse of this Watson and it was all so wrong. That glare upon that a face that was no so long ago starting to become a welcome sight, always at his side.

The gnawing feeling was back. Holmes twisted in his chair to face away from what he could not bear to see and bolted to his bedroom door. His fingers felt numb trying to support himself on the doorframe. Why was it only getting worse.

"If you insist upon wasting my time with another one of your tedious mornings 'in', I beg of you, spare me the dubious honor of your companionship and leave me be. I cannot hide any further from you without disappearing altogether."

[speciesofhurt]

If anyone had told Watson previously that he would be sharing rooms with a man of such nature as that of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and that he would survive more than a year of it, he would not have been inclined to believe them. Over the year, his impression of the detective has been ever-changing. It was never firmly decided upon - the exact nature of his flatmate. There were always... contradictions; errors in theory.

His current state of mind was a new one. Perhaps he had held the man in too generous of a light. In place of the brilliant mind and saviour of the misfortuned, now stood a brute.

Watson wasn't foreign to acts of self-sacrifice. They came as second nature to him. We may call it an unwelcome residue of his time abroad. As such, when he put himself between his friend and that gun, it was natural. What was not natural was his friend's response.

He'd understood that the softer sentiments were not something Sherlock Holmes was particularly well-versed in. He hadn't expected a grand gesture of gratitude. Of course not. But this was simply absurd. He didn't understand why, but it hurt him to be so rudely ignored and pushed away by a man he adored. Hurt usually translated to anger in Watson.

"Then, why don't you, sir?" He spat, taking a moment to stare firmly at his ridiculously dramatic friend. "It would not make any difference, clearly, to our present living arrangements." The last bit was spoken to the newspaper in his hand.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

❛  are you always so competitive?  ❜ ❛  are you okay? are you hurt?  ❜ ❛  are you sure you can do this on your own?  ❜ ❛  are you thinking what i'm thinking?  ❜ ❛  can you go take care of this, please?  ❜ ❛  can you show me how to fight?  ❜ ❛  can you tell me more about your adventures?  ❜ ❛  do you believe in ghosts?  ❜ ❛  do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?  ❜ ❛  does it really have to be like this?  ❜ ❛  don't you think you've already done enough damage for one day?  ❜ ❛  has no one ever given you a compliment before?  ❜ ❛  have i ever told you how beautiful you look in the glow of the moonlight?  ❜ ❛  have you noticed anything different about me lately?  ❜ ❛  haven't you ever wondered why i never talk about my childhood?  ❜ ❛  how can you just go to sleep like nothing happened?  ❜ ❛  how many more people have to suffer before you realize your madness?  ❜ ❛  is there anything else i can do for you?  ❜ ❛  is this really how you want this to end?  ❜ ❛  isn't it ironic?  ❜ ❛  what are your plans for today?  ❜ ❛  what else do you want me to say?  ❜ ❛  what else have you hidden from me?  ❜ ❛  what happened here? where is all that smoke coming from?  ❜ ❛  what has happened in your life that made you like this?  ❜ ❛  when were you going to tell me?  ❜ ❛  where are we supposed to go from here?  ❜ ❛  who will be able to stop them now?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just act like a normal person?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just leave me alone?  ❜ ❛  why can't you just stay focused?  ❜ ❛  why does everything always have to be so complicated?  ❜ ❛  why should i believe you now when you've told nothing but lies?  ❜ ❛  why won't you just tell me what i did wrong?  ❜ ❛  will it ever stop hurting so much?  ❜ ❛  will you go out on a date with me?  ❜ ❛  will you just shut up and kiss me already?  ❜ ❛  will you please text me when you get home safely?  ❜ ❛  you're completely out of your element here, aren't you?  ❜

[speciesofhurt]

“Are you saying I look like a toad?“

From Enola!

"Your words, not mine." He pointed with the spoon in his hand before continuing to stir his tea. After pretending to be absorbed in the day's paper for a few seconds, he sighed and looked back up at the other, shifting in his seat, feeling somewhat apologetic.

"I merely suggested, a change of attire might suit you, Enola, considering, we are going into public-", he gestured in the direction of the window, "-where other humans can see you? Did you really think what you're wearing is anywhere near appropriate for ordinary eyes?"

[speciesofhurt]

John felt relief. He smiled to himself. It was true, what he said. Every last word. "Yes, and you must never chang-", his reassurance to her was put to an untimely end, for, when she so kindly opened her door, he had still been leaning on it. He fell backwards to the floor with a resounding thud, and it took him a few moments to collect himself.

"There, I've paid for my sins with physical pain. Will you, at least now, choose to put all this behind us?" John groaned lightly, picking himself up off the ground and dusting his trousers.

[speciesofhurt]

“You followed me. How dare you!“

"Pray forgive me for having a shred of concern about your safety, Anthea." John snapped at her in a hushed tone, his eyes darting about the place. It was one thing for Sherlock Holmes to be caught sneaking about under the shadows at night but another entirely to find a lady doing the same. "What are you up to in this vile place?"

[speciesofhurt]

“Are you saying I look like a toad?“

From Enola!

"Your words, not mine." He pointed with the spoon in his hand before continuing to stir his tea. After pretending to be absorbed in the day's paper for a few seconds, he sighed and looked back up at the other, shifting in his seat, feeling somewhat apologetic.

"I merely suggested, a change of attire might suit you, Enola, considering, we are going into public-", he gestured in the direction of the window, "-where other humans can see you? Did you really think what you're wearing is anywhere near appropriate for ordinary eyes?"

[speciesofhurt]

Before John could even attempt another apology, the door was shut in his face, yet again. He propped himself against the door, the sudden addition of weight on the hinges, causing them to creak in protest. "Enola", he began but he couldn't place what to say. "Enola, I truly am sorry. I understand it really isn't my place to dictate who you should be or what you should do. I suppose it isn't in anyone's place but yours, really."

John finally let go of the door knob and turned around, leaning his back on the door instead. "What you must know, is that you are a marvelous individual, Enola. You are... unique and you stand out well among ordinary folk. Truthfully, I think the world of you. I know you'll grow up to be nothing short of one of the finest women in the country. I am merely looking out for you. I don't wish anyone to have any disrespectful opinions of you." He sighed and thrust his hands inside his pockets.

"Now, I understand if you don't want to come with me, anymore. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

[arimakesmuses-archived-deactiva]

Small footsteps could be heard from where she got up, wandering over to the door.

“You mean it?..” her voice came from right behind the door, her hand slowly grabbing the doorknob but not quite turning it.

“I don’t want to be like everyone else. Being like everyone else makes me feel like I can’t be myself. I can’t be true to my nature of myself” her voice broke as she spoke, the doorknob slowly turning.

[speciesofhurt]

John let his head fall back on the coarse wood of the door. "I'm not asking you to be like everyone else, Enola. Everything I said, came from a place of sincerity. I promise you that. I'm simply asking that you be the best version of yourself. That you prioritize yourself sometimes. Don't make the same mistakes your brothers did. It's alright to put your needs before other things."

"I am not trying to suppress your individuality. That's what governesses are for." He scoffed lightly. "And I am certainly, not your governess."