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alias: ANDREA
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John Watson

Land Without Magic

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Jan 1 2018, 01:59 AM
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<div style="width: 300px; background-color: #fff; padding: 50px;"><div style="width: 300px; height: 100px; background-color: #fff;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td rowspan="2"> <div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides01">I will never let you</div></div><div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides02">down</div></div></td>
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John smiled at the celebration for the new year going on around him, but it was only a disguise. The truth was that he was feeling rather lonesome in Storybrooke, mainly because his world was so far away and he was unable to return. He had made a couple friends in the small town, but he couldn't help but long for his friends in London, especially his best friend. After all, he had in his way saved him from himself. He wouldn't tell anybody, but he had considered taking his own life after returning from Afghanistan. He had felt so lost without a direction then that curly-haired madman stepped into his life and he was alive like he had never been in so long. So it was taking a lot to get use to that loss, though he wasn't about to give up on finding a way home.
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Now, however, John was at his table in the bar, his fingers reaching for his cellphone before he sunk back in his chair. He eyed the old texts that he hadn't had the heart to delete. One of them in particular made him chuckle abruptly before he realized that he had emitted it outloud. “Sherlock.” He muttered the name as he shook his head, forcing the device back into his pocket. John's tan hand lifted his drink to his lips, draining some of the beer that tasted rather weak to his liking, but he drank it anyways than set it aside. His deep blue eyes scanned his surroundings, offering a smile to anyone who came close to him. He hardly wanted to ruin anybody's fun with his own gloom.
</div></div></div><p><div class="streetcred"><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5"><font color="#d8dacc">oliver</font></a> <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6227"><font color="#d8dacc">sykes</font></a></div></center>

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Nov 20 2017, 11:56 PM
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<div style="width: 300px; background-color: #fff; padding: 50px;"><div style="width: 300px; height: 100px; background-color: #fff;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td rowspan="2"> <div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides01">I will never let you</div></div><div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides02">down</div></div></td>
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John had got himself a bit of lunch from Granny's Diner, which was a nice meaty sandwich and some chips or fries as the Americans were fond of calling them. The meal was a good one, though he had to admit that it was lonesome eating by himself. Once he was done, he had rose from the table. His mind was whirling with thoughts as he made his way down the sidewalk. Find a way out of Storybrooke then he would get back to London, back to Sherlock Holmes. It may have seemed like an obsession, but John remembered his friend's voice on that phone. The sorrow and the desperation in it had made it clear to the doctor that he needed his help. He needed to get back to him as soon as possible, but how?
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He frowned as he stepped into the park, his deep blue eyes scanning his surroundings. What would Sherlock do? Go back to the beginning, where he had first come to back in this place. This happened to be the park. He stood in the middle of the grassy lawn, his eyes peering up at the cloudless blue sky. Nothing seemed different about this spot. It was just solid ground covered by soft grass. “Damnit.” He muttered to himself as he slowly sunk down to kneel, his gaze turned downwards as he tried to investigate like he thought his best friend would do. John probably looked a little silly studying the ground while clad in his jeans and cardigan sweater over his plaid button-up shirt.
</div></div></div><p><div class="streetcred"><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5"><font color="#d8dacc">oliver</font></a> <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6227"><font color="#d8dacc">sykes</font></a></div></center>

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Nov 19 2017, 02:39 PM
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<div style="width: 300px; background-color: #fff; padding: 50px;"><div style="width: 300px; height: 100px; background-color: #fff;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td rowspan="2"> <div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides01">I will never let you</div></div><div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides02">down</div></div></td>
<td><div class="upsidespx01"><div class="upsidespx02"><div style="position: relative; top: 7px; margin-left: 7px;"><img src="https://cdnw.nickpic.host/oF6Cmn.png"style="width: 75px; height: 75px;"></div></div></div>
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John may not have been a genius according to the Holmes brothers, but he was certainly not a complete idiot. In fact, he was rather smart in his own right. He had done quite well in university and he had become a doctor. Heck, he had even survived war as a soldier, though that had more to do with being shot and dragged to safety before death claimed him then his intelligence. Still, John was no simpleton. So it wasn't all that surprising that he find himself wandering into the local library. It was a nice, calm place that was so different then the chaos going within him at having been plucked from his exciting life with Sherlock. A few books seemed like the perfect distraction. So he made his way into the warm building, drawing off his coat that he carefully placed on a chair to reveal his clothing underneath. He wore a striking deep emerald green knitted sweater that he had come across in Storybrooke, which was nestled over a white long-sleeve button-up shirt with the collar turned down. On his bottom half was a pair of dark blue jeans and his nice brown shoes.
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He looked rather benevolent in his comfy sweater and soft round face as he strolled down the rows of books, his deep blue eyes taking in each title. He was checking out a curious detective novel when he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye. John turned his body quickly only to catch a flash of dark hair and pale skin. "Sherlock?" He mumbled curiously as he stepped out, the book still clutched in his hand. The former soldier sped up his pace, trying his hardest to catch up to this stranger who made him think of his missing friend. Once he would catch with them, he would call softly to them. He knew that this might be an awkward situation and he hardly wanted to startle them before he was able to truly speak with this person. He chuckled a little as he addressed this stranger, clutching his book to his chest. "Hey."
</div></div></div><p><div class="streetcred"><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5"><font color="#d8dacc">oliver</font></a> <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6227"><font color="#d8dacc">sykes</font></a></div></center>

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Nov 11 2017, 03:36 PM
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<div style="width: 300px; background-color: #fff; padding: 50px;"><div style="width: 300px; height: 100px; background-color: #fff;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td rowspan="2"> <div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides01">I will never let you</div></div><div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides02">down</div></div></td>
<td><div class="upsidespx01"><div class="upsidespx02"><div style="position: relative; top: 7px; margin-left: 7px;"><img src="https://cdnw.nickpic.host/oF6Cmn.png"style="width: 75px; height: 75px;"></div></div></div>
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John's heart was pounding when he had caught word of Holmes' Detective and Defense School. Could it be? Could Sherlock be here already? Had he established himself in Storybrooke? All sorts of questions were racing through his brain as he swiftly dressed himself in his usual fashion. His attire consisted on a pair of dark jeans, a long-sleeve plaid shirt of white and deep navy blue, short brown jacket, and a pair of dark brown boots. After a very short breakfast, John was out the door of Granny's Bed and Breakfast to find the address of this school that might possibly be owned by his best friend. It took a little time, but after a while he finally found his destination. He licked his nervously as he peered up at the building, his fingers clenching then un-clenching before he finally stepped towards the structure.
<p>
John considered knocking on the door, instead, however, he decided venturing inside would be his best bet. So he took a deep breath then he made his way inside, his deep blue eyes scanning his surroundings. It looked a bit like a warehouse that had been refurnished to be used as a kind of dojo on the bottom with the classrooms above. "Hello?" He called, trying to put a little authoritarian tone to his soft accent while his searched for someone that might help him. "I'm a looking for Sherlock Holmes." John couldn't help smiling a little as he said the name. It felt good to say it, though he couldn't help but feel a little nervous while he waited for a reply. The former soldier shifted the weight on his feet as his short yet somewhat sinewy frame slipped into his military stance, his arms folded behind him while he waited patiently.
</div></div></div><p><div class="streetcred"><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5"><font color="#d8dacc">oliver</font></a> <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6227"><font color="#d8dacc">sykes</font></a></div></center>

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Nov 6 2017, 09:18 PM
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<div style="width: 300px; background-color: #fff; padding: 50px;"><div style="width: 300px; height: 100px; background-color: #fff;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td rowspan="2"> <div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides01">I will never let you</div></div><div class="upsides03"><div class="upsides02">down</div></div></td>
<td><div class="upsidespx01"><div class="upsidespx02"><div style="position: relative; top: 7px; margin-left: 7px;"><img src="https://cdnw.nickpic.host/oF6Cmn.png"style="width: 75px; height: 75px;"></div></div></div>
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John had been trying to settle into the new and sweet little village of Storybrooke, yet he couldn't shake off the fact that it was still a prison. Yes, it was a nice one, but still a cage without the one person in the world who had saved him. He frowned as he was reminded of the loss, but he tried to keep hope alive that he would find his friend here in the town. So far, however, his search for him proved to be fruitless. His disappointment had brought him to the relatively quiet pub, a place that had seemed good enough to drink away his troubles. God, he had been so wrong. Now sitting at the bar counter, he couldn't help but feel worse. He just wanted to go home to Baker Street. He would give anything to see that annoying git of a man again.
<p>
The small man sighed as he lifted his hands to rub them over his face before his cobalt eyes fixed themselves on the pint in front of him. John had already consumed two good size pints without food, so he was starting to feel a slight buzz within his body. No, he wasn't drunk yet, but he was well on his way. It probably wasn't the best thing to do. After all, he needed his senses clear in this new world that he found himself stuck inside of currently. So he was already feeling a little regret at his decision as he lifted his new drink to his lips. “Idiot.” He muttered to himself before he took another drink, a strong hatred for himself settling into him.

</div></div></div><p><div class="streetcred"><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5"><font color="#d8dacc">oliver</font></a> <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=6227"><font color="#d8dacc">sykes</font></a></div></center>

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