The Science Center at Cape Kore Logs

Who: Watson and Open.
When: Day 156
Where: the atrium
What: dog days.
Warning: violence. strange comedy. John Watson with a sword.


It was a grim sight. On the first day into the invasion; which was what John privately thought of it, even if there hadn't been any kind of official notification. By the second day, things seemed like a nightmare come to life. If he'd had any lingering doubt about the strange, other worldly quality of this place, it was all but vanished upon the first blood welling bite.

Rather luckily, John had been heading into his own room at the time. A quick slam of the door had dislodged that particular dog's efforts. Still. It took a moment for him to work through the reality of the situation. He'd been tricked once before, into believing that a killer canine was after him. This wasn't the hallucinogen and shadows playing havoc with his mind though.

This was bitter horror.

John's next worry was for Sherlock, and Mary, and Meja. (and more or less just anyone else in the building, yes, even Gabriel) So he went and tried tracking down those dearest to him. More or less successfully in some cases.

When he found Meja, he'd discovered another interesting fact. She had a spare sword, broad and well balanced. His normal talents were well into the area of sharp shooting, but gunless, he fell back on other kinds of military training and sheer determination.

On the third day; John was walking through the Atrium of the building. He'd encountered one roaming pack the night before, but hadn't found someplace safe to hold up in for a quick nap. Needless to say, Watson was a tired man, but he soldiered on.

Who: Watson and Open. (with a thread for Sherlock)
When: Day 151
Where: Kitchen and various.
What: John has found his footing a bit, but more puzzles have arisen.
Warning: none.

[for sherlock; kitchen]

John was making tea. It was something of a ritual, in fact. He found something different to look at every day he was here, but in the end, tea was always there for him. John was rather fond of tea.

There was someone else he suspected that he was rather fond of, though he couldn't say exactly how it was so. It was something that he needed to discuss with Sherlock.

Sherlock.

Everything else faded a bit when he thought about that too. Well. Now that John was able to think of his friend without wanting to crush his tea cup he thought maybe it was high time to actually see the other man, so he sent a short text, informing Sherlock of his location. Whether the infamous consulting detective would show? That was anyone's guess.

[open]

At some point in the day, John thought it might be nice to stop by the Hydroponics Lab and visit with Meja. She was a nice woman and one could never have enough of those in one's life. Until then, John's feet led him in search of another nice woman. The one that was unforgettable. Only, John seemed to have forgotten her.

He wanted to know why these memories were missing. She was a mystery. Not the kind that could be solved like a case. But.. the kind that took a lifetime to unravel. Here he was thinking thoughts that had no business being tied to strangers but.. well, John was a man of particular quirks of his own. Getting attached far too fast and far too easily was the very least of those.

In the meantime. He looked out for a door with Mary's name on it.

Who: John Watson and Open
When: Day 147
Where: John's room and various.
What: newbie be wandering

At first John just sat a good long while on his bed. It was typical. Though he'd thought himself well beyond the days when he was deliberately trolled by the universe at large. Once he'd stumbled into that sort of role however, the universe seemed reluctant to let him out of it.

His first impressions were poor, that is to say, if this was Mycroft's idea of trying to reconnect through enforced placement. John was going to have to have words with the elder Holmes. Currently the only Holmes, but that was another of those things that John didn't like to think about, so they got brushed back into the recesses of his mind. A much less organized place than one would think for such an upstanding and productive British citizen.

Realization gradually sank in however, this was no effort of Mycrofts to lure him into conversation by means of science experimentation.

He was well and truly stuck.

The where's and why's and how's of the matter spun John's head in circles until it was clear that no matter how often he tried, he was not going to deduce any answers from what was inside his conveniently labeled room. Other minds might prove better at that task, but it was always in John's nature to go and look, even if he might not know what it was he was looking for. Or at.

John H. Watson was the picture of polite curiosity, finding no one outside his room to stop him. He wandered freely.