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]

Watson meets him at the door, and if he noticed Siebren's vacillations, well, he's not saying a thing. Nor about the five minutes late.

"Ah, there you are. Come in and have a seat in the examination room, and I'll be with you directly."

[spaghettification]

"Thank you, Doctor." Siebren floats his way over to the exam room and sits. And fidgets. Well, it's not like Watson has never seen a restlessness of mind and body before.

[lightconductor]

It's a familiar symptom, that's for certain. Watson closes the door behind him as he returns, and offers a reassuring smile.

"Should we start with what happened that night?"

[spaghettification]

"When Mendel's court began tormenting everyone, a particular demon took a personal interest in me. But she didn't expect me to be capable of fighting back. I was able to kill her."

This is the part that makes sense.

"Her body melted into white chocolate and artificial cherry syrup. I ate all of it."

[lightconductor]

That is, Watson reflects, one of the stranger things he's been told by a patient, but that list lately has become a good deal stranger than it had originally been when he lived in London.

"Ah. I see. Was this... well, begging your pardon, but I certainly had my share of strange experiences that night. Was there some degree of illusion or delusion involved?"

[spaghettification]

"Probably. But I did not just imagine devouring her. And I spent three days, ahm. Digesting her. I have absorbed some of her demonic power. But I'm not certain if there were other effects."

[lightconductor]

"I see."

Watson looks thoughtful for a moment. Presumably there are side effects you can expect from three days digesting a demon who turned into what may or may not have actually been white chocolate and cherry syrup. They did not cover that in school. "I would suggest we start with a general physical examination, then, if you're amenable. What effects have you noticed?"

[spaghettification]

"Most of what I've noticed is more psychological, or maybe neurological. I spent three days dealing with my mind scrambling itself. I now tend to throw dizzy spells at people when I'm startled, complex multi-sensory illusions. When I start to throw one and then pull back, it snaps back and affects me, like a rubber band. I've noticed a lingering smell and taste in my mouth from her, though."

He starts to unbutton his waistcoat, to allow for an easier examination.

[lightconductor]

"... Hmm. Are you having dizzy spells outside of that? What sort of smell and taste?"

Does a side gig as a detective help him ask better questions? Watson retrieves his stethoscope from a side tray, making a note to check Siebren's balance, along with everything else. Just in case.

[spaghettification]

"Cloyingly sweet, but also artificial. Like aspartame or grape-flavored cough syrup or banana candy." He makes a disgusted sound to indicate how he feels about those flavors.

[lightconductor]

"I don't suppose you know if aspartame is anything like saccharin? But I think I grasp your meaning. It sounds most unpleasant. Pardon me."

Watson puts his stethoscope to Siebren's chest to listen to his heart.

[spaghettification]

"A similar chemical to saccharin, yes. A sugar replacement that is copying and awful."

The physical exam is standard enough, for a sixty-sonething arthritic, at least with regard to the vitals. Siebren could stand to exercise more, if he can find a form that doesn't conflict with achy joints. Swimming, perhaps. Beyond that, much of his issue is truly in his head.

[lightconductor]

As Watson finishes up, he frowns thoughtfully to himself, thinking.

"There is nothing obviously wrong with you, physically," he says, "outside of pre-existing conditions. My advice for you would be to keep alert for anything that is unusual or alarming, and we can address that, but at present... well, you've had quite the experience, which has no doubt taken a toll on you. A little rest, a little light activity if you feel up to it, but at the moment? I don't think there is much to worry about on this front."

[spaghettification]

"Well. That's a relief. I will keep you informed if anything seems to come up. Thank you, Doctor."

He can't completely relax, but the relief on his face is very visible.