Inbox for Watson (Pumpkin Hollow)

[lightconductor]

Here you may contact Dr. John H. Watson, MD, late of Her Majesty's Army, with any professional or personal issues. He is available by phone, message, or just by dropping in on him at his clinic or his tenement flat.

The Clinic

Watson's clinic is a small building with a couple examination rooms and some beds, kept warm with a little iron stove in the front room. Pictures to come at some point.

The Flat

A short walk away from the clinic is Watson's small but cosy flat, on the second floor in a small tenement building.

The "sitting room" end of the main room
The kitchen, where the stove is the primary source of heat
Watson's desk
Watson's bedroom, alternate view

Comments

[lightconductor]

He flips through it, frowning thoughtfully.

"I've known people like this," Watson says, tapping the paper. "They are generally labelled as eccentric, or perhaps even odd. I would never have thought to label it a medical ailment of any kind."

[pineapplesalmon]

César chuckles warmly. "I've certainly been called those. And those are the more pleasant words. ... it's less an ailment than you may think. A lot of people who have this tend to be entrepreneurs and creative. We don't accept the norms as the only ways to do things."

[lightconductor]

"I have known there to be great value in seeing things from a different perspective from most of the world," Watson says, thinking hard about someone in particular. "All right. What do you need from me, as your doctor, to support you in this? Because I'm not quite clear on that point."

[pineapplesalmon]

"For the most part, it's informational. I'll update you with my medication dosage when I've got that. Sally can produce a long-acting stimulant that I'll be using." César shrugs. "... I should probably mention I also have a tendency to sometimes neglect my physical health during crunch times. I just... forget to hydrate and eat. Back home, I had technology to remind me, but I don't have that, here."

[lightconductor]

It a testament to Watson's immense professionalism and patience that he does not sigh audibly about otherwise intelligent men who forget about food and water.

"A long-acting stimulant." There's faint concern there, because he knows stimulants, but he is going to have to put some trust in his future colleagues. "Well, we shall have to do our best with what we have. Perhaps we can find a chiming clock for you that might help."

[pineapplesalmon]

He knows it's there, though.

César pulls out of his pocket a repeater pocket watch. "Already ahead of you. I've also created a small notebook of To Dos of various lists to help me keep track of things. ... Stimulants actually act differently in my brain. Sometimes people find out they have this by taking illegal stimulants like cocaine and then finding they want to nap."

hey let's do some cw: drug use

[lightconductor]

"Cocaine--"

He startles, visibly, and then passes a hand over his eyes. Aware that he's reacted noticeably, Watson is uncomfortably silent for a beat or two while he tries to work out what to say. Perhaps he should not speak ill of the dead; on the other hand, he will hurt no one by his honesty.

(On the other other hand, he is also dead.)

"I beg your pardon," he says. "I am... aware, of course, that some people do react to stimulants in that way. A very dear friend of mine, in fact, was very fond of cocaine for how restful he found it."

[pineapplesalmon]

César startles at the startle, taken aback. But he doesn't reach out to touch Watson in reassurance, as much as he wishes to. Watson seems too reserved for that.

"Restful..." Huh; César's expression knits into sympathy. "... was he the reason you didn't blink at my sometimes inability to remember my basic needs?"

[lightconductor]

"I fear so," Watson says, rather wryly. "Sherlock Holmes was a very great man I had the pleasure of befriending and working alongside for the last decade of my life, and also I could never be quite sure he was eating properly after I married. I never thought the cocaine seemed a particularly healthy habit to cultivate, admittedly, but he would never budge on that."

[pineapplesalmon]

"... You were correct about that. It's illegal for a reason. As in opium. And many other substances." César looks over to him. "I'm sorry for your loss. A decade's a long time to work with someone. You must have been fairly close."

[lightconductor]

"We were extremely close," Watson says. "We were friends, partners, colleagues. We lived together for, oh, eight years, after I came back from Afghanistan. He was best man at my wedding."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs. "Illegal, was it? I didn't think it was quite that serious, but I admit that it is... validating, shall we say. There must be newer drugs to take their place, surely. What of morphine? I know it has its risks, but also it has its uses, it seems to me."

[pineapplesalmon]

"... Friends like that are entirely too hard to find. Once in a lifetime, perhaps." Like César had been with his parents.

César makes a sound of agreement. "Morphine is highly regulated because it's addictive. Opioids as well. Opium itself is illegal."