Dr. John Watson

[DR. JOHN WATSON]

DR. JOHN H. WATSON




"The Loyal Dog"

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Alias: Leffie
Other Characters: Erik Spectre and Sebastian Timothy Martin
Rewritten City Found Via: Sisi referred me a long time ago.
Contact: Skype (lefantomeromance), googledocs ([e-mail]), MSN ([e-mail]), pm any account
Comments:
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00I. full name Dr. John Hamish Watson
0II. canon or original Sherlock Holmes
III. years of age 29
0IV. orientation Straight with Bi-curious tendencies.
00V. social status Middle Class
0VI. occupation Doctor, formerly of the army

00I. play by Jude Law
0II. body type 180 lbs, military physique, formerly muscular but thin, and didn't really show it off much. Now has a bit of a dour body, sadly due to his illness.
III. height 5’11"
0IV. eyes color Light Blue
00V. description Being a man of the military, Watson takes great care in his appearence. His dirty blonde hair is almost always in a neat army cut, his clothes are always pressed and pristine, and he carries himself with a sophisticated (albiet limping) stature. He has two wounds from the war (he was sent home because of both): one in his shoulder and one in his leg, the leg being less serious and more of a psycological thing. His wounds disable him from a normal life, as he must carry a cane for his leg, and his arm is usually quite stiff. His injuries forced his normally muscular body to thin, and he usually look a bit unhealthy on his worst days due to his incapacitating illness.

His skin is slightly tanned from the war, and he's still not quite used to the mundane life of safety, so his posture is usually erect and stanced as if ready for a fight. He'll often carry his gun on him, the crack shot that he is, though he's yet to fire it after returning from Afghanistan. His eyes display somber indifference to the world, now that his purpose as an army doctor has ended unexpectedly. They sparkle with delight at difficult problems he has to solve in his particular profession, yet they often roll with sarcasm when he's suspended in disbelief. He is always dressed in some sort of jacket when going casual, but dresses quite nicely in suits when the occasion calls for it.

00I. overall personality John can be described as a quiet man, but not without his opinions. He'll voice them readily with heavy sarcasm, something he's quite known for amongst his acquaintences. He is not self conscious about his wounds, but can get a little bit tense when the pain flares up, and he's usually very bitter about it when people ask if he is in pain. He knows he is, he knows he has to deal with it, so why won't they stop asking? he thinks. His mindset about his wounds will walk the morbid line, and he often stares at his gun in contemplation. Of course there needs to be no explanation for that.

He is kind and compassionate, as he believes all doctors should be. He has a fondness for the innocent and humanity, and believes no man is guilty until proven so. For all this high moral code that comes with being a doctor, however, he often falters in his standards, taking great store and pleasure in the fantastic. He'll stretch the truth a bit to fit his needs, though they are never in a malicious context. He lives for the thrill of adventure, which is one of the reasons he joined the fight in the Middle East, and fudging the truth and breaking the law a bit only brings him closer to the action. He won't admit any of this of course, as he knows that a mundane and normal life would be ideal and downright American to most. One of the reasons he moved to America.

A little bit of curiosity goes a long way with John. Not only is his mind constantly humming with anticipation for a medical challenge, but his personal matters he also likes to experiment with. He doesn't like to think of himself as a closeted bisexual, so he doesn't. He merely thinks of himself as a straight man open to new and exciting things, including men. He prefers women (or at least he thinks he does), but he can't help but notice a man's attractiveness when they pass him by. And by pass him by, he usually means completely pass him over.

John is an attractive man, but not by the typical standards, and can be a bit of a turn off when it comes to flirting. He's what you'd call a man resembling schmuck trying to suck up to his boss. He plays on a woman's (and a man's, on occasion) conversation, directing all topics away from himself, giving himself a cheeky smile and forced awkward moments. He prides himself on being a flirt, and is a bit of a ladies man, though only to the ladies who are naive enough to give into his game. He's never truly been in love, so doesn't really know what its like to act just normal around someone, and they get you. He feels he has to put on an act for anyone he dates, like how he does with patients. He forgets that a woman or man is not his patient.

John is not a very secretive man, more open and straightforward than most. While he is not honest to the highest degree, when presented with a potential true friend, he will display the utmost loyalty to them. He has no family to speak of, after all, and likes to cling to those nearest him as if they were kin.

He is brave, stemming partially from his stint in Afghanistan, but also coming from his optimistic outlook as a child. He always sees the world as moving forward, advancing into the next stages of evolution, and will do all he can to protect humanity and help it achieve its goals. He is a bit too kind for some, quick to forgive (never forget), and move on. But he is very trustworthy, and will always allow you to confide in him with the utter most secrecy. The only mouth whatever you tell him will leave is the mouth of his pen, as he describes in detail every day of his life (for the most part, if its interesting) in his journal, which he keeps safely hidden.

Though he wants the mundane for his everyday life, he craves the exciting and adventurous, though hasn't found it yet. He hopes to find it in New York City. He keeps his excitement inside, though won't hesitate to release a giggle of jitter when alone or with a close friend. Because of all this built up enthusiasm, when confronted with large sums of money, he can be a bit of a frivolous spender (though when he's scraping to get by, he knows when to save). He'll often lick his lips in contemplation, and whenever he's excited, he forgets about his wounds and will often leave his cane behind, the adrenaline rush he gets stimulating him so that he feels little pain. Being in the army, he was trained to be a crack shot, and has never missed his target since boot camp.

The doctor is highly intelligent, though he can be pretty oblivious at times. He sees the things that are important in life, and that is all that matters. He probably would have graduated school early, had it not been for his intense thirst for correct and expanding knowledge, though he knows his limits. He is an excellent surgeon, and all around doctor, and was on his way to being praised for his work in the army, though his Honorable Discharge put him in a bad spot, both financially and physically. His wound keeps him from practical surgeon work, and wants more than ever to find a mundane job as a local doctor.
0II. strengths Brilliant surgeon, ace wit, "pawky humor,” bravery, kindness and compassion, straight forward honesty, excellent marksman, etc.
III. weaknesses A bit of a schmuck when it comes to the ladies, dishonest when it suits his purposes, can get a bit too excited about murders he reads in the papers (does that mean something's wrong with him?), highly sarcastic and insensitive at times when the mood strikes him, a bit of a big spender when he has lots of money.
0IV. goals In the back of his mind, John wants to settle down with a wife and children, and to be a successful doctor, though he doesn’t really strive to be the most well off man in NYC. Just a moderate income, that’s all. Immediately, he just wants to assimilate into the hustle and bustle of NYC.

00I. notable family & friends Family wise, no one currently worth mentioning, he really has no family to speak of now. His mother, Nancy, was a hairdresser, and his father, Frank, was a policeman. They both died in a fire. No siblings and no other relatives, at least that he knows of. His only notable friend (if you can call him that) after moving to NYC is Sherlock Holmes.
0II. overall history John was born England to his previously mentioned mother and father, Nancy and Frank Watson. At a young age, he was always interested in the fantastic, spurned on by his mother's constant keeping of gripping mystery novels. It was even further heightened by his admiration of his father's profession, and he dreamed of becoming a police officer. But as a boy he was always quite the adventurous one, and often played soldier with the boys in his school.

When he was fifteen years old, he came home from school to discover his home had been destroyed and his parents killed in a fire. He was devastated, and really had no other family to speak of, and was left on his own. The police treated him with little compassion, breaking to him the case of his parent's death with no discretion. He was horrified by their blunt and brutal interrogation of him. They shoved him into a foster home, said a few obligatory words, and called it a day. He lost his sympathy for the police then, instead turning to medicine, as his therapist (he had to have one for the post-traumatic stress the loss caused him) inspired him to help people by solving interesting medical problems.

When he graduated high school, he was accepted into college with full scholarship, thankful to leave his foster parents' behind and pursue his dreams. He realized he could still become a soldier and a doctor by enlisting as an army surgeon, and he did just that when he graduated college. He was thrilled to join the battle, and left immediately upon receiving his degree. He spent a year overseas.

One battle proved disastrous for the doctor, as he was shot in both the shoulder and thigh (on opposite sides of the body). Thankfully one of his orderlies, Murray, carried him to safety, and he was flown to a safe zone for treatment. More misfortune headed his way, however, when he was struck with a devastating fever. He was extremely lucky he survived, but his health would be impaired forever. He was completely incapacitated for a long time, and it was in the army's best interest that they send him home, much to his chagrin. He protested, but as soon as he was well enough, he was sent back to England on a small government pension.

Distraught and without a home or family, Watson gravitated toward London, where he could easily forget about the humdrum life he was sent home to. He tried going to clubs, having flings, even going so far as to break the law a few times (though nothing serious, and John being the smart man that he is, he was never caught). His penchant lie in gambling, and quickly wasted away most of his money. He realized he needed to turn his life around, instead of moping about his inability to return to war.

He decided to give himself a fresh start, and moved to America, where he's currently staying at a hotel in New York City. He's looking for a small apartment and a job, though he hasn't had much luck so far. For all his spending, he did save a bit of money over the months that had passed since his Honorable discharge, but it won't last him long.
III. sample post

They say silence is healing.

Who "they" are, John didn't know. Probably some higher up in the food chain that thought of supposedly deep philosophical phrases and coined them as provocative, but nevertheless. The saying was probably true.

It felt true. The water helped a bit too. So did the cold sides of the bathtub, air bubbles rippling up to the surface as he stared at the ceiling from underwater. It was quite peaceful. All he had to do was think about holding his breath. All other thoughts flew out the window... or rather out of the tub.

With a little bit of luck, he could stay under forever. Ah, but alas, a breath he had to take. He gasped and sputtered when his lips and nose hit the surface, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath, and the thoughts came back. Damn water. Why couldn't he breathe for long under it? Why haven't humans evolved and formed gills?

Though he supposed with gills the thoughts still would enter his head, and focusing on not breathing was his only option. The thoughts were usually everywhere when he was alone, which was most of the time. He had no friends to speak of, no family, no job, no home even. Just this hotel suite, and this tub to keep him company.

And his thoughts of course.

Bang bang! the shot rang out in his head. He felt it whiz past his ear like an arrow head, approaching its red target just behind him. But that was only a memory, the distant sound of his heart drumming a mere out of body experience.

The water was cold now. He didn't mind. It was comforting to know that the water understood, the water calmed him. It didn't have to try, didn't have to force its condolences and pity on him, like so many other people did. "Would you like a chair, Dr. Watson?" "You were so very brave, Dr. Watson." "Serves you right for going in the military like that, Dr. Watson." Or something like that.

He rubbed his head, his hair dripping water over his forehead. He sat in defeat, cold and naked in the bathtub. He could see through the water where his scar was on his leg. It was a small little thing. Who knew something so tiny could cause so much damage? Would he ever walk normally again?

Oh, who was he kidding, of course he would. He's walked and even ran perfectly fine since returning from the war. His conscious mind, however, always has other plans for him. He suspected post-traumatic stress, but he really hadn't been exposed to much trauma. If there was any trauma at all, it was from being torn away from the fight so quickly and easily. His discharge had been out of his control. Damn illness. Damn wounds. Damn state of mental health.

He rubbed his hands and sighed. Depression now? He must be going through a lot of phases. Would he be bipolar next? Would he develop a separate personality, like Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde? It wouldn't surprise him much. He found nothing surprised him much anymore, though he was always open for it. Didn't happen though, and he doubted anything in his life would change now, except maybe he'd find a job and house, maybe he'd meet a girl, marry her, have a couple kids, retire at 65 like all the other men around here.

That may seem like a lot of change to people, but for John, his feelings would always stay the same, static and unmoving. He wished to see things in technicolor, like he used to before he was wounded. Now life was a black and white film, reflecting in the glass of the mirror. Everything was in reverse, everything was crumbling with nitric erosion. The film was fading, and soon all that would be left would be memories. What kind of life was that?

It wasn't a life at all. It was a machine.

Damn thoughts. He sank back into the water again, just after taking a big breath of hopeless air, slowly rising to the surface.

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this, modified by Yols with Shakespeare lines.

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