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No. But the rest of it's bloody convoluted, and she— [ actually, it only just occurs to him now that John hadn't even thought to look for Irene in the statis chambers. because she's dead, isn't she. but so would the majority of people he's met here be, if linear time was to be abided by. so might he be, if chronology meant anything.

so she could be. up there. probably is, actually. Sherlock he's found, of course, found him in the first days. his sister. Mrs. Hudson, a few others by now. (that his parents might be up there somewhere is an uncomfortable afterthought.) but Irene? he'll have to look next time. despite everything, he'd liked her well enough.

the train of thought leads to a slightly long, inopportune pause before he comes back to his senses. right. middle of a sentence. okay. ]

She didn't get the happiest of endings. Sorry. [ John coughs out a little laugh, awkward. ] Don't think I picked the best story, actually, after all that.

You distracted me. That's more than enough.

[He distracted her completely, in fact, and Rosalind is still smiling as she stretches out on her bed.]

Interesting women rarely meet happy endings, I'm afraid. A sad fact of life.

[. . .]

I was going to tell you that you reminded me, in a very small way, of a man I knew in my old world. He reacted to anything new with scoffing disbelief, especially me. Fortunately, the similarities end there; you're far less insufferable than he was.

Well, good of you to say so.

[ and he can't really defend himself against that, although he thinks he's been rather good about the continuing slew of bollocks thrown their way from the outset. there's being perturbed by the new and there's being perturbed by drinkable fire-tossing and the concept of atomic displacement.

though he's glad he could help. and actually, after a moment, ]

I've got a casebook laying around somewhere. From home. I can bring it by when I come over, might make for a nice change between romance novels.

[ or it might be an embarrassing tome filled with quarrelling post-it notes the likes of which might as well lump it in with the same genre, but there we go. ]

I'd like that a lot.

[She pushes her fingers through her hair. Again she's tempted to demand he comes visit her now, but she bites it back.]

Are you doing something delicate? Only I'll tell you more of my world-- it seems only fair, after all-- but I don't want you to make some kind of incredulous noise while you're stitching someone up.

I'm hiding in a cupboard.

[ slightly sheepish, but there doesn't seem much of a need to lie about that one. ]

So I think you're alright.

[She laughs, surprised and delighted. There's a murmur from a female voice somewhere, and something a little lighter in her voice now. It's entirely possible Rosalind's dreaded nurse has hooked her up to an IV.]

Why are you in a cupboard!

[ haha, go away Rosalind. John does his best to sound indignant, quite possibly failing miserably. ]

So I can talk to you without half the hospital listening in! Problem?

Maybe.

[you go away.]

You didn't have a problem with that when I was lecturing you. You ought to have, that's far more valuable, especially since I haven't, mm, I haven't rewritten any of my books yet.

Ah-- that's something I could tell you, I wrote three books.

Only three?

[ he's teasing. writing books is bloody impressive, and he's no doubt they're filled to the brim with impossible theories that are actually very possible indeed which makes them all the more impressive. still: ]

Thing is, people switch off the second they hear science. So your theories are safe. You can re-write without fear of being called in for plagiarism.

Go on, then, what were they called?

People are idiots.

[SCOFFED LOUDLY, yeah, she definitely has something pumping through her right now.]

The Principles of Quantum Mechanics, that was the first, I wrote that when I was twenty-two, and it shows. Barriers to Trans-Dimensional Travel, that was the second. And the third was a silly thing, a primer for children, introducing them to how the city flew. I didn't want to write that one, but my patron insisted.

Edited 2018-03-25 03:22 (UTC)

How the city flew.

[ of course! of course. of course it did. but despite that, John's smilefrowning. ]

What have they got you on?

Er--

[There's a fair bit of movement as she hoists herself up. There's a bit of silence, and then:]

I don't know, John, don't ask me things like that. It's-- nn, propofol? I think it's that.

[Maybe it's not, maybe that's not the right kind of thing to put in an IV, I'm not a doctor, I don't know.]

Why? That's dull to talk about, why are we talking about this when we could be talking about something interesting.

Because you're high as a kite. Don't worry, carry on.

[ the more she talks, the more she reminds him of Sherlock and the more he knows that they'll either get on fabulously or genuinely want each other dead. it's a problem for another day. ]

Though it might be nap time soon.

[It's something of a pity he's not around, if only because of the look she's giving the wall right now. It's very indignant.]

I'll sleep when I want to, John Watson. You're the last person to tell me when to sleep. Maybe I shan't at all.

[SO THERE. She showed him.]

And anyway, if I'm to sleep, you at least have to stop working.

I'm not sure those are the rules, Rosalind Lutece.

[ her name is far less convenient for casually throwing out, but he made the effort anyway, all in the name of teasing. since Dorian's got slack, the least he can do is step in to make sure somebody's not giving her an easy time of it. ]

The rules are whatever I make them. You can ask anyone.

[. . .]

Except Bigby.

[ John lets out a laugh at that one. okay then, Ros. ]

Somebody who doesn't agree?

Someone who forcibly ignores me. And then gloats about it afterwards, like an absolute bastard, just cos he's strong and tall and all that.

[Not that she minds. Not that she really dislikes Bigby and his rule-breaking, if in no small part because it ends up being pleasurable for the two of them. But thank god, she's not actually saying that just yet.]

Rosalind Lutece, suffering strong, tall, and all that fools? I can scarcely believe it.

[ poke. that. bear. ]

[There is an indignant pause. Finally:]

Shut up.

He's interesting. And I know enough about myself to know I have a type. He just happens to fit within that type, insufferable personality aside. And he's-- you know-- appealing in that sort of rough way, and there's something appealing about that kind of roughness--

None of which is your business!

[ros nobody is making you talk about it]

[ literally nobody is making you talk about it, but wow. John stands, leaning against a set of shelves, and takes it all in. who knew the slightest little prod would spill this many beans.

John isn't, however, above making the most of the situation by asking questions. this is the lesser of many evils, really. ]

You together then?

[Good thing you don't remember this kind of shit when you're high as a kite, this'll be a fun topic for him to bring up later.]

God, no. No, we just-- you know-- fuck.

Frequently.

[A pause. She may be contemplating this for a few seconds, but then:]

I've already got my beloved.

[But she doesn't want to think about Robert, actually, and so:]

No relationships . . . but sex is fine. Sex is fine.

[ oh. oh, my God. okay.

okay.

alright.

okay. ]

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