John H. Watson (timetoblog) wrote,
John H. Watson
timetoblog

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[LOG] Hangover Cures

There were a lot of things John Watson was used to handling on a very small amount of sleep. He'd been deployed overseas, dealing with bombings and attacks and explosions - he'd been shot, for crying out loud! All of that, however, paled when compared to living with someone as brilliant and as infuriating as Sherlock Holmes. John felt pushed to his limit on more than one occasion, running around London, solving mysteries and crimes, and then coming back to find that he still needed to get groceries, tidy his room, entertain the newly bored Sherlock...

Well, it didn't exactly leave much room for napping. He found himself overtired more often than not, and today was especially harsh, as he was now dealing with a hangover so massive, it put all others to shame. And, as much as he wanted to crash and burn for a few hours in his room, he knew that Sherlock would be along soon enough to draw him out on another adventure. So, when the Welsh bloke - Ianto, he figured, because it was the name that stood out as the most Welsh in his memory - offered an escape route, John had leaped at the chance.

So, there he was, having dug around to find someone to take him to Cardiff - though, was it even the same Cardiff as he was used to? He'd told them who he wanted to see, and that's where he'd been taken, so. Only time would tell if this was his world or not. (And how strange it was to take that concept at face value!) Now, in the Plass - he'd been to Cardiff once, a long time ago, so it was practically like new - John dug out his phone and opened a text to the number he'd by now stored in his address book.

...Right, this wasn't Sherlock he was dealing with. He could call. Rolling his eyes at his own idiocy, he sent a call to Ianto to let him know he was by the (obnoxious? a little) fountain in the center. After all, it was the easiest landmark to be noticed by.
Tags: cr: ianto jones, log: ianto jones, virus: tfln
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Ianto had been sitting at his desk in the tourist office, doing next to nothing. He had actual work that he could be doing down in the archives, but then he'd have to make it all the way up from there to the tourist office and then out onto the Plass, and really he couldn't be bothered with making that much smalltalk with the man, considering he'd never even spoken in person to him yet.

As it were, they'd exchanged a rather pleasant back and forth when John had first introduced himself on the community, and he hadn't really thought anything of it. Apparently, though, he somehow ended up with the man's number and had thought it wise in whatever sort of drunken stupor he'd gotten himself into the night before that he'd take out all the frustrations about the English that he might have had at any point in his life out on the other, which for one thing, wasn't really fair to John, and for another thing, was actually really rather embarrassing reading back on.

So, he'd invited him over for coffee, as a peace offering, and as a way of redeeming himself, because he really did make a pretty damned good cup of coffee, if he said so himself. He didn't know whether John would even have accepted, and yet he did, and well. There he was, waiting for a phone call, which came a lot sooner than he'd expected it to, seeing as it was the other's first time world-hopping, and all.

"Ehm, hi. It's John, yeah?" he asked, recognizing the number as answered, standing to grab his coat and start heading out to meet him. He tried his hardest to dumb down his accent, because of the whole Wales vs. England vibe that he really didn't want to start up again, but there really was no way he could make it go away completely, unfortunately.

timetoblog

October 12 2010, 05:26:43 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  October 12 2010, 05:30:24 UTC

John smiled briefly at the fact that the other man actually managed to remember his name, which caused a pretty twenty-something woman to smile back at him awkwardly as she passed. Yes, right. John turned away with an uncomfortable shrug.

"Right, yeah. Got it in one. So," John decided to blunder on, being that there really was no other way to do this, and he didn't want to be stuck making too much small talk, "I'm by the fountain. This hopping thing - it's a bit quicker than leaving from Paddington. Sorry that I didn't give you much warning." Unlike Ianto, John wasn't toning down a thing; for one, he wasn't alert enough to think to do it, and for two, well. Really wasn't a reason for him to tone down a thing, was there?
"Right," Ianto said, exiting the tourist office, "by the fountain. I...realize that we've never spoken on the phone before. Or met in person, so. I suppose looking for a man on the phone by the fountain should be easy enough to do, though," Ianto said. He realized he was rambling. He tended to do that when he was uncomfortable, and well. From what he read, he'd been pretty obnoxious the night before, of course he'd feel uncomfortable about it.

"You...you live in Paddington?" Ianto asked, trying to make conversation as he made his way up the stairs and across the way to the Plass, through all the midday pedestrian bustle. "I used to live not too far from there. In the Tower Hamlets. By Canary Wharf, really. On the Isle of Dogs." He hoped that he was making sense and not being too awkward about it. It'd been 5 years since he'd been there, after all, 5 years since Torchwood London and all of that.
John was very good at dealing with awkwardness, surprisingly. "I could describe myself, if you'd like," he said easily, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting his phone to his other ear. "And no - Paddington has the easiest station to get to from my flat with trains out to Cardiff. I know where that is, though," he added, "I've gotten pretty knowledgeable about London since-" Moving in with Sherlock, but that didn't sound exactly right, so, "-Working with my flatmate." Not much better, but it would do. The last thing he needed was more people thinking he was gay for Sherlock.
Ianto had to resist the urge to start snarking at John there. Owen had come back, and he was just getting into the swing of it all again, and it was hard to just switch on and off at the drop of a hat. But no, John was being serious about the describing himself there. Ianto hoped, at least. "Ehm, well. Maybe if you could, that might help? I really have no idea how many men with phones there might be standing out about the fountain. It is sort of a passing time, the Plass can get pretty crowded this time of day, if you've noticed."

"Ah," Ianto said. "Working with your flatmate? The very same flatmate that you implied would happily play his violin regardless of whether you had a massive hangover or not?" he asked. "That must be... I can see why you'd want to get away for a while, really."
"Not too many, especially none of the hungover British types, but." And then John realized that, while Sherlock was tall and thin lipped and had a very easy presence to recognize, John... did not. He made a face and shifted to rub at the back of his head. "Just keep a look out for blonde man in the jumper. Sort of hard to miss big black and white stripes. I look like a prison escapee. And..."

He was sort of used to people knowing Sherlock. Then again, he hadn't really mentioned him by name, but still. It was like anyone who saw him immediately knew, yes, that is Sherlock Holmes' flatmate. It must be the air of put-upon patience he exuded. "Oh, it would be specifically because of the hangover. It would... I don't know, he'd make up something about it being good for my headache. It isn't, though."
Despite his lingering awkward feeling about the way that they'd apparently interacted the night before, and the fact that he really hadn't had much interaction with the man otherwise, Ianto laughed a little at John's comment about the jumper he had on. "I'll be sure to do that," Ianto said, in regards to looking for John. "I would say that you should watch out for a brunette Welshman in a suit, but I won't bother, there are probably tons of those out and about at the moment. I'm better off just looking for you."

Speaking of, Ianto started to do exactly that, making his way across the Plass. "He sounds like a charming individual, this flatmate of yours..." Ianto said. John must have better patience with that sort of thing than him; if someone were to start playing the violin at him while he were hung over, well. There was a reason that no one had even thought of attempting to do so. "Hang on, I think I see you," he said, interjecting his discussion of said flatmate as he spotted the jumper. It was kind of hard to miss. He was still a few moments off from actually getting to where the other man was, but he waved a little anyway.
John had decided somewhere between getting a worldhop and arriving in Cardiff that he wasn't going to bring up anything about last night. For one, he didn't even remember what had happened, and besides. He felt he'd given as good as he got, and that they should probably let bygones be bygones. After all, he was letting the other man make him coffee.

"Yeah, not much help there, sorry," he said, "And. Charming's one word you'd never hear describe Sherlock, that's for sure." At Ianto's comment about having found him, John looked around before noticing the brief wave from the taller, definitely younger man. Why was everyone so much taller than him? It simply wasn't fair. Ah well. "Right," he said, giving a half-wave back, because it was only polite. Also, it distracted him from the fact that they'd hit the awkward point of the conversation, where they could see each other but still not hear each other.
Ianto decided it best if he just hung up the phone at that point, because John was right in thinking that it was a bit awkward, to be seeing someone talk but hearing their voice through the phone rather than aloud. There really wasn't much that he needed to say at that moment that couldn't be said in another few seconds, anyway, so he shut the mobile and tucked it into his suit jacket pocket. In another few moments, he was standing beside the other man, and he held out a hand to shake hands in greeting.

"Right, hello," he said, looking down at John with a bit of an awkward smile, but a smile nonetheless. "We've spoken before, but since this is our first time in person... I'm Ianto. Ianto Jones. And well. Welcome to Cardiff, I suppose. Sorry to've kept you waiting here, the tourist office's only just down that way," he said, with a nod towards the stairs up from the docks that he'd come from.
John ended the call himself when he saw Ianto moving to do the same, pausing briefly to check his messages - nothing from Sherlock, thank God - before looking up to see Ianto coming up to him. He smiled back at Ianto, putting on his best, most natural expression and shook his hand briefly. "John Watson. Nice to meet you. Er, in a way I'll remember, at least." After all, he had their argument on his phone, sure, but he didn't remember it.

He nodded at Ianto's gesture towards the stairs, smiling easily, actually relaxing because, okay. He could handle a tourist office. There was nothing easier to handle than a tourist office. ...Why did the community want Ianto, then, though? After all. Tourism wasn't precisely consulting detectives or... whatever Minatsuki was. (Other than crazy.) How did he fit into the relatively more... interesting lifestyles the community seemed to attract?

Sherlock would be so proud of him for noticing this, he realized with a sigh. "By all means, then," he said, gesturing towards the steps.
Ianto, nodded, and led them forward, not really talking as he led them through the pedestrian traffic until they'd finally reached the stairs down to the docks. He honestly had very little idea what he was doing, really. Other than apologizing and showing off his coffee expertise, he didn't really know the man. Aside from one pleasant conversation on the community and one he'd rather not have found out about on his phone, they hadn't spoken before at all. What's more, here he was, inviting him to Torchwood, and yes alright, it was only the tourist office, but it was the civilian front of their Top Secret Organization, and really, shouldn't he know better by now about having people over? Apparently not.

He motioned to the front of the tourist office down the docks. It looked...pretty disheveled. He supposed that was the point, so people wouldn't come knocking unless they really felt the need to do so, but still. He wasn't used to people being around that didn't know that it was a front, and it was almost rather embarrassing, all things considered. "Ehm, that's it," he said, awkwardly. "It doesn't look like much, but I promise that I'm not having you on about this. I really am going to make you a decent cup of coffee to apologize for, er, my texting. And if you won't accept it for that, then. As an offer to get you away from your flatmate, then. I know all about dealing with difficult personalities, believe me," he said, with a small smile.
John was having his own minor crisis of faith in himself as they headed down towards the docks. After all, he'd noticed already that a tourist office didn't seem to be particularly interesting when compared to everyone else on the community. Hell, his own life was currently more exciting than that, though it was all due to Sherlock. So, really. Why was this guy, Ianto Jones from Cardiff of all places, part of the community? He could be a psychopath, secretly, or something. That sounded right up there, if people like Minatsuki were part of the community.

He considered it for a moment, giving Ianto a brief glance - nah. There was no way this guy, who had to be no more than 25, was a psychopath. Right? John had a good sense of people, really. He was a decent judge of character, and the guy had offered him coffee to apologize for arguing about rugby. He knew his mates from uni wouldn't have done that. That was a decent thing to do, and he was pretty sure that meant Ianto was fine.

...He should have left a note for Sherlock. Damn it.

Realizing that Ianto was talking, he looked at the... yeesh. Tourist office was right. He smiled vaguely. "Yeah, right. Any excuse to get out of that flat for the duration of this headache. Sort of an out of the way place for a tourist office, isn't it?" Very out of the way. Oh, come on, John, look at him, he thought, Probably wouldn't know how to kill me, much less want to.

torchwoodteaboy

October 14 2010, 05:15:22 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  October 14 2010, 05:15:41 UTC

John was being very polite about his reactions, but Ianto knew how the tourist office looked, and so he could tell that there was definitely a bit of hesitation around that. He steeled himself for anything at that moment, really. At least maybe it would be a little better once they were inside. Ianto had to spend enough time in there by himself, he'd at least tried to make it a little better than what it'd looked like when he'd first arrived, which had been. Well, pretty horrible, actually.

"Yes, well," Ianto said, thinking of something, anything to say to cover up the fact that that was sort of the point... "People get lost by the docks, too. Most of the business we get inside are people asking for directions, really. The Plass is kind of a really big attraction, and when they've exhausted what there is to do around that, people end up here looking for their next destination, I suppose."

Upon reaching the door, Ianto stepped forward, pulling out his keys and moving to get the door unlocked. At least maybe it would be a little less uncomfortable when they were inside? Maybe. Not for the first time, Ianto wondered what the hell he was doing at the moment. "Here we are," he said, opening the door and flipping on the lights to the little place. "It's not much, but it does the job," he said, hoping that John wouldn't take one look at it and head for the hills.
The inside, John admitted, was a step up from the outside. It wasn't precisely homey, or entirely that useful as far as a tourist office could be, but there was the standard issue crap computer and the brochures, and, well. All right, it really was a tourist office. He kept his eyes from the ground, not wanting to give in to his desire to look for the trap door to the basement, or something.

His imagination seemed to act up whenever he got too stressed. He really could use that coffee... and maybe a week without Sherlock's analyzing every little thing. Then he wouldn't be assuming such crazy things right off the bat. It did seem that Ianto recognized how bad the exterior had looked, and even looked a bit mortified about it, so that was good.

But, when it came down to it, the interior was fine, and John was fine with being there. He wasn't about to run away from the guy in the suit. "Looks... like the inside of a tourist office," he offered with a smile, because it looked like Ianto was just as uncomfortable about all this as he had been just a minute ago. "Must not be fun, having to work in here all day, though."
Ianto shrugged, leading John further into the office. He didn't bother flipping the sign from "closed", he didn't think anyone would be desperate enough to try and get into the office, at the moment--it was a nice enough day out that they could just walk another few minutes and find a much better tourist office anyway. A real one. "Well, it's not too horrible. It is better when people stop by and keep me company, though, I will say that much." He laughed softly. "There's a reason I've perfected the art of making coffee, as it is," he said, not entirely lying about that. The love of coffee had come as a necessity to help him keep focus under piles and piles of paperwork and artifacts.

Ianto went around the desk, motioning for John to follow. "Here we are," he said. He'd brought the coffee machine up from the main area of the Hub to fix it, and hadn't bothered to put it back down yet, and well. Honestly, it looked kind of ridiculous, in the back room of the tourist office, but it was the best machine out there, as far as Ianto was concerned, so who cared? "I, ehm," Ianto said sheepishly, "I have a bit of a passion for coffee..." he said, trying to explain himself and the almost science fiction-esque machine on the counter in front of them.
"I can imagine." While John wasn't clear as to where he should stand - or sit, really - he figured it would be easier to just treat this as visiting anyone's place; make himself at home, but not so much that he was imposing. He followed Ianto around the desk, leaning back against it after giving the machine an appreciative glance. Everyone had their hobbies, he supposed; Sherlock's was the violin, Ianto's was coffee. (John's was, apparently, blogging, but it wasn't exactly something he did a lot of, so. He should probably look into something else.)

"Clearly," he said with a smile, "Not much for the traditional pot, then?" He had to admit, the machine itself was more than intimidating, and he could only hope that Ianto wasn't pulling his leg about being able to make anything with it. He figured it took a special touch, and if Ianto didn't know exactly what he was doing, well... He wasn't capable of choking down bad coffee, no matter how impolite it would be not to.
Ianto shook his head, smiling at the coffee pot question. "No, not really. I mean, I'll use one if I have to, but. With something like this, there's a lot more you can adjust and get absolutely right, and not just have to sit back and let the machine's settings do all the work for." God, he was geeking out over the coffee machine again, wasn't he? He was going to have to learn to stop doing that, some day. Catching himself in the act was pretty embarrassing.

He took two mugs from beside the machine (both clean, Ianto certainly wouldn't leave dirty mugs lying about, especially when he had company over), and placed them out on the counter. "Right, so. I'm pretty much good at making anything, with this. Had a lot of practice, and all. So, what'll it be?" he asked, with a smile. Obviously, he didn't have any fancy flavor shots or soy milk or whatever those fancy barista types had about, but. What he didn't have in garnish, he made up for in actual quality of the coffee, or so he'd like to think.
"Right," John said, obviously amused at that little rant, raising a brow at Ianto. "Can't say I see anything wrong with that. After all, ah. If you really love your coffee, of course you want to have more of a hand in it." He was actually proud of himself for being able to accept the geekery - and a little surprised to find that he could sort of understand it. It was just one of those things, he supposed. "There are worse things to be obsessed with, anyway." He grinned, "Violins, for one."

John frowned at the question, mulling it over briefly. He wasn't much of a coffee man, not really. He usually bought the cheapest thing he could find in the market, slapped it in a coffee maker and let the machine do all the work. Really, though. Tea was more his thing.

Clasping his hands together, he shrugged. "I've been told I'm sort of the quintessential Englishman, being that I'm a bit more of a tea drinker. What would you recommend?"
Ianto smiled and nodded, stepping up to the machine and switching it on to get it started up. "A tea drinker, yeah? I think I can work with that," he said, with a smirk. There'd been quite a few tea drinkers who were less than enthusiastic about coffee that he'd given a cuppa to and helped them see the error of their ways, as it was.

"How do you take your tea, then?" Ianto asked. "Not that that's how I'm going to serve you coffee, but. Just as an idea of what sort of flavor you might like in this. I mean, I could always guess completely, but. I wouldn't want to make any assumptions and guess wrong in this," he said, knowing full well that he wouldn't guess wrong. He never did, not where coffee was concerned. A talent, not really useful in anything else, but a talent nonetheless.
It wasn't that John didn't like coffee. Lately, it had become a staple in his diet, thanks to his late nights. But, he didn't exactly frequent Starbucks.

"Milk, some sugar. I don't like it particularly sweet," he said after a pause. Ianto seemed pretty cocky about this coffee thing, and it admittedly made John want to know just how good he was at it. He was starting to wonder if the younger man was setting his sights too high with this "guess the flavor" thing - but then he glanced at the machine and knew, no, most likely he was not. "Though, thanks to a barren kitchen-" The one with eyeballs in the fridge - "I'm mostly taking it plain, nowadays."
Ianto laughed at the barren kitchen comment. He knew what that was like. Coffee ingredients, he kept a close eye on stocking. Everything else, though. Well, he lived on takeout and canned foods more often than he'd really like to admit aloud to anyone who didn't already know that fact.

"Alright, then," Ianto said, setting the machine up to start the coffee brewing a fairly normal espresso, while he went to the mini fridge under the counter and pulled out the milk. He spent more time up in the tourist office some days, that having another fridge up there was necessary. Plus, it came in handy to have when Owen would decide to put his experiments in alongside the leftover takeout cartons...

Pouring it out into the mug, he set it under the mechanism, positioning the nozzle into the milk and turning it to steam, adjusting the temperature as he watched the milk froth. "So. From what I remember speaking to you earlier, you're a doctor," he said, trying to make conversation so it wasn't just him bustling about the coffee machine. "Why is it that you ended up having to help people track down missing clothing items the other night, then? Not normally something people would ask a doctor for help in, all things considered..."
John watched Ianto work the machine, halfway attempting to figure out what he was doing, but mostly just watching out of sheer interest. People who just knew what they were doing always interested John; it was just plain neat to see someone doing something complicated as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

He knew a bid for casual conversation when he saw one, and gladly went along with it, smiling wryly at the question. "Well," he said, clearing his throat slightly, "I'm a doctor, yes. I served overseas for a while, before coming back to London. And, my flatmate happens to be the world's only consulting detective, and he likes having me around when mysteries come up." He shrugged, "Seems like word got out. Plenty of people on the community seemed to know me before I even introduced myself, and, apparently, I'm the first one to come to when you're missing a shoe."
Ianto raised an eyebrow at John's words. "So you help him out on these consulting detective duties of his, then?" he asked. "Sounds rather exciting, that. No idea what that entails, exactly, but it does sound exciting nonetheless."

Hm. The milk wasn't frothing quite right. Ianto upped the temperature a little bit. Much better. He held it under the tap for a moment longer. "I take it when you say 'served', you mean in some sort of military capacity, then?" he asked. He wasn't sure how else that might be, but you could never be too sure, especially with somewhere as strange as the community. John seemed to be from somewhere that was relatively the same as Ianto's own universe, though, so. That did make things a little easier to understand, as it were.
John watched Ianto change the temperature with a slightly raised brow, before shrugging. "Ah, yes. I was stationed in Afghanistan, but." He'd gotten shot, and had nightmares, and... "I'm back, now. And, the consulting detective bit - he helps the police with crimes, mysteries, you know. The usual," he said with a laugh.

Suddenly, he remembered the thought he'd had when he'd first arrived in Cardiff, and he frowned. "Er. Question - might be a strange one, actually, but. Do you know if... this is my world, and all?" He scuffed his shoe against the floor briefly, crossing his arms. "I mean. Are you and I from the same Earth? If I took the train home, would I be in my London, or...?" It sounded insane, saying it aloud, but he knew that it was a possibility now. Anything was a possibility. How weird.

torchwoodteaboy

October 18 2010, 03:46:37 UTC 6 years ago Edited:  October 18 2010, 03:47:20 UTC

Ianto shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea. I mean, we seem to be from similar places. You've got the war on over there, so do we. Cardiff apparently looks the same. There are even the same train stops and places in London between here and where you're from. I'm not sure exactly how we might be able to..." Oh. Well. He could try asking about something that happened over here. But how to ask about all of that without sounding like a madman? 'Hi, do you remember when there were ghosts in everyone's living rooms, and how the government told everyone that that was alright? No? Oh, well. Alright then.'

He took the frothed milk out from underneath the spout, wiping the mechanism down with a wet cloth before putting the mug under the spout for the coffee, before pausing for a second, seriously thinking on what to say. Oh. Well, there was that. "Has there ever been something weird with the sky, where you are? You know, like. Not being normal, like it should?" All the stars disappearing and other, unknown planets being impossibly close, much closer than the moon.

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