(no subject)

[chromosomes]

CHARACTERS: John Watson (BBC OU) & John Grimm
LOCATION: 001 » 197
WARNINGS: Will update.
SUMMARY: Watson has been assigned a protector.
NOTES: Backdated to 8/20.


[ Tyke said "protective detail" and Reaper is still a soldier, still follows orders as long as they're the right ones. She gave him the number and Reaper went, dressed in his ship jumpsuit with his handgun at his side. He'd hesitated, considered grabbing his assault rifle before deciding it was probably overkill considering what else he could do. He didn't want to scare the man; that wasn't why he was here.

He's not sure how well the doctor will take him being around, so he decides to be upfront instead of skulking around. He heads to the room, 001 » 197, and he knocks. ] Dr. Watson? My name is John Grimm -- I'm a member of Security.

Comments

[theblogger]

[ The knock startles John into wakefulness. He hadn't even realized he'd drifted off in the armchair he'd sat himself down in what seemed like years ago. His joints feel it when he shifts, mind speeding up to try and interpret what he can hear filtering through the door.

Security? John forces himself to rise, reaches forward and picks the pistol on the coffee table before him. ]

What's this about? What's happened?

[ He calls it for the door. If Reaper's expecting him to whip it open, he's wrong. John checks the clip on the gun and snicks it back into place, moves away from the line of the door to approach the wall near to it. ]

[chromosomes]

[ Honestly, he's glad Watson doesn't whip it open. Means he's got sense, knows to check -- and Reaper has superhuman hearing, can hear the tell-tale sign of the clip of a gun being checked from through the door.

There's a bit of a smile for a moment before he shoves it away. ]

Nothing. You know Tyke, our current head of security? She assigned me to protective detail. [ Pause. ] Could I come in? Unless you want to have this conversation through the door.

[theblogger]

Barely know her. Through association.

[ Through Sherlock, who seemed to have a running gag of asking after a spare dog. Christ. John shakes his head. ]

Think I'll take it through the door, if it's all the same to you, Mr. "Grimm".

[ Seriously? Grimm? After all those fairy tales Moriarty set up? Reaper's lucky that John's not shooting him through the door. ]

You can tell Tyke for me: thanks, but no. I'm fine.

[chromosomes]

Your choice.

[ Yeah, his last name is very unfortunate. Though honestly John, he'd be okay if you shot him. He heals pretty quickly. ]

I'd say you can call me John, but that might be weird. But it's Staff Sergeant, actually.

[ At least he's not British. ]

You'll have to tell her yourself. She's got concerns about the situation, says it's common knowledge you were Sherlock's closest link.

[theblogger]

Closest link to what?

[ Just what does Tyke know? ]

Common knowledge is that he'd been spending most of his time with Neal Caffrey. Why aren't you knocking on his door?

[ Under the bus you go, Neal. ]

[chromosomes]

She just said "closest link". I'm here because I was ordered here. For all I know she sent someone else there.

[ Reaper does not know any of these people. He just knows that someone died, someone else might be in danger, and he has orders. Orders that he agrees with and therefore won't be breaking anytime soon. ]

[theblogger]

[ There is a silence, calculation. ]

Staff Sergeant where? U.S. Army? Marines? Or assigned rank here?

[chromosomes]

U.S. Marine Corps. In 2046, which I understand isn't common around here.

[ Well, that's. One way of putting it. ]

[theblogger]

[ There is a mirthless note of a laugh. Ha! ]

What about here says common to you?

And what are your orders, exactly?

[chromosomes]

Well, people waiting to shoot me is one of the more common ones.

Protective, observe, report strange activities or behavior. The usual. [ Not much point in not telling him that. ]

[theblogger]

[ John glances down at the gun in his hands. Does he...? How does he know?

Slowly, John flips the safety on and tucks the handgun into his wasteband for easy access, replacing it with his communicator. From that, he sends out a text. ]

Twenty-four hours? And what if I don't let you in?

[chromosomes]

[ Really good ears. ]

Then I get to have a sleepover outside your door. Honestly you not leaving your room would probably make protecting you easier.

[theblogger]

Well, mate, that's about what you're in for, until I tell your superior to spend her resources on people that might actually benefit from them.

[ That said, John goes to sit back down in his chair... and stare at the empty one across from him. Waiting for a response to his message. This irritates him, the whole mess of it. Not Grimm outside - if he's who he says he is, he's got nothing to do with it. Doesn't mean John wouldn't take it out on him at this moment, though. He's done a fair bit of that lately, enough to realize that the best way to be good to someone at the moment is to not speak with them at all.

Give it some time, Reaper. ]

[chromosomes]

Guess we'll see how this goes.

[ Either way, Reaper will just be sitting down outside the door now. Not the least comfortable place he's had to wait, at least. ]

Doop doop, I hope you like to time skip

[theblogger]

[ True to his word, it's hours before anything happens. The sounds of movement happens inside. John texts, he moves to another room. He sleeps for a while. When he wakes up... he's thirsty. He hasn't really been hungry at all, but he's parched. Water seems to make his mouth feel more dry. Catching a cold, maybe. Sometimes these things happen (when you don't sleep often).

Honestly, he's forgotten about the Staff Sergeant until he opens the door to leave and he's right there. John blinks down at him, a bit groggy still. ]

What if I just stayed in for a few days? Did you think on bringing rations?

I love it

[chromosomes]

[ Reaper looks back up at him, standing slowly and stretching. It's easy to fall back into the mission mindset, to watch and wait and not let his mind wander. He likes it better that way; no thinking about monsters, about screams. Just him and the hallway and John Watson in his room. ]

I've got some. Tyke'll have someone bring me some if I need more. [ Reaper shrugs his shoulders, letting one pop slightly. ] But as you're a doctor, I'd hope you'd leave at least to go to the bathroom instead of setting something like that up in your room.

[theblogger]

Army doctor. I've had worse.

[ He stares at the man a moment more, appraising. Christ, he looks just like McCoy. He ticks a wry, tired sort of smile. ]

I'm not worth it, you know. Come on, then, I'm going to the kitchen.

[chromosomes]

Yeah? [ He looks back for a moment. Could've used a doctor on their unit, instead of all of their first aid training trying and failing. Not like they could have done anything for Goat, not with him infected, but they hadn't known that. ] Always nice to meet someone else military.

[ There are differences between himself and McCoy, of course; the haircut, the stubble, the accent, and the tattoo of the Grim Reaper on his left forearm (though that's covered by his sleeve). Still, he'd met McCoy before the man had disappeared and knows a lot of people look at him and see the doctor. It doesn't bother him as much as it maybe should. ]

Maybe you saying that is exactly why you are. [ But he'll follow. ]

[theblogger]

Always? I dunno about that. Especially when they're someone who's got half a mind to give you Hell.

[ McCoy is gone. He doesn't expect either Spock or Kirk took that very well, but he hadn't really contacted them about it, just like neither of them have tried to talk to John about now. He's grateful for it, honestly. ]

I'm not heartless. And it's only partially your fault that you're here.

[ John strides down the hall, waiting only long enough to be sure the other man is up and following (he's got no real reason to run) before continuing on. ]

You're new, aren't you? Can't have been here more than a month or two.

[chromosomes]

If it's just yelling, I think I can handle it.

[ He's seen his own version of Hell and he walked out alive.

Reaper ignores the bit about fault, staying somewhat close to John but not close enough to feel too overbearing. Even if he were to run, he's faster now -- yet another "bonus" thanks to that synthetic chromosome. The doctor could run, but he'd be able to catch up. ]

008, yeah.

[theblogger]

Really just don't like that I'm being babysat. I try not to do the yelling thing.

[ He's someone who very tightly holds onto his control... but right now he can't really guarantee anything.

He could guarantee that he'd really love a cuppa right about now, so any running he'd be doing would be right to the kitchen anyway. Maybe later, big boy. ]

So you haven't known Tyke that long either, then. She's only recently been made head of security. Before her, it was a man called Winchester.

[ Reaching the kitchen, John begins to move toward the electric kettle, pauses, licks his lips, then moves toward the cabinets. It's been a long time since he's had a proper drink. He almost thinks he deserves one. ]

She was a civilian before this, I think. Does that bother you?

[chromosomes]

It's not babysitting.

[ It's not babysitting because Reaper isn't a babysitter. ]

If she was, she doesn't act like that.

[ Not the way she hands out orders, the way she speaks and carries herself. There's more to Tyke than meets the eye, that's for certain. ]

But even if she was, no. She stepped up when no one else would, got things together, has shaped things up as far as I can tell. She's doing a good job.

[theblogger]

Fair enough.

[ Mildly. He collects a glass from the cupboard, thinks. ]

Anything to drink?

[chromosomes]

[ Half-shrug. ]

Sure. Can't get me drunk, though.

[ Even if you try, John. Sorry. ]

[theblogger]

[ Damn. ]

Sorry for your loss.

What'll you have?

[chromosomes]

Me too.

[ Wow that sounds healthy. ]

I'm not picky. Whatever you're having, I guess.