sirblogsalot | 16th March

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16th March

Voicemail

Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Doctor John Watson. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a brief message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.

[He might actually get back to you... but there is a 50% chance that Sherlock will answer instead. Are you feeling lucky?]

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[ Rolling his eyes, Shane holds the towel to his face and stands to his feet. Though, to be quite honest, he was much more comfortable sitting on the couch than he will be sitting on the side of the tub or the toilet. But, doctor knows best, right? Dr. Watson, follow Shane to the bathroom, if you will. ]

We had a vet, and he did save Carl's life.

[ You're free to ask about that if you want, John. ]

[John directs Shane to have a seat on the lit of the toilet, which looks more comfortable (and easier to sit on) than the side of the bathtub. He then takes another towel and wets it.]

Well that's convenient. How big was your group again?

Ten in our group, and Hershel and his family make about fifteen total, I think.

[ Shane takes a seat where instructed, towel still held to the side of his face, thoughts focused on what he'd just come back from. He knows the group loses people, himself included, but as of now it stands at fifteen, plus a prisoner, and Lori's unborn child. ]

Kinda sad, if you think about it.

It really is. I imagine it's something like being stationed abroad, middle of nowhere, knowing you could die at any moment.

[He washes his hands and puts on a pair of gloves before taking Shane's injured hand and pulling it over to the sink and under gently running water.]

Of course, we were all trained and armed in that scenario.

[ Shane winces a little at the water on the cut. Hurt like a bitch cutting his hand, but it was worth it if it kept that damn thing out of that bus. ]

Yeah, except they ain't tryin' to eat you. [ He pauses-- ] I was lucky, I guess; I knew how to use a gun before everything went to shit.

No, none of that in Afghanistan as far as I know.

[The cut doesn't look as bad as John was anticipating, and that's not a bad thing by any means. He carefully dries it off as he continues talking.]

The good news is you won't be needing any stitches, but I'm sure you know what I'm going to say about you using a gun anytime soon.

And I'm sure you know what I'm gonna say about me doin' it anyway.

[ He'll be giving John a "you've got to be kidding me" look. ]

Gun's a part of my job. What am I supposed to do if I'm out on a call and need to use it? Can't let a cut on my hand stop me from doin' what I gotta do, man.

[John doesn't miss a beat, having expected the response, and calmly continues to pat the wound dry before applying some ointment.]

I'd honestly say the same in your place, but right now, I'm speaking as a doctor. Using a gun will exacerbate the injury and throw off your aim. Take a day or two off, or maybe do some paperwork instead of going out on patrols. You have that luxury here.

[Even if Shane doesn't take the advice, at least John can say he tried.]

[John's response is met with a roll of Shane's eyes and a single "ha." Of course, the doctor in John would tell him to take a day or two off, do something like paperwork, something easy like that... But the dumbass in Shane has no plans to do that. ]

You know I ain't real big on paperwork.

[Shane can do what he wants, really, but John will continue to gently nag while he bandages because it's his job (and because he cares, as a friend).]

Hm, what's that annoying saying again? Ah, yes. A police report a day keeps the doctor away. I think that was it.

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16th March

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