The Actual RP: RP#1

-Start-
John Watson shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering in the chilly air, his breath misting in front of him as he made his way down the cold street towards one of his and Mary's favourite places to go out to eat. He (well, Mary) had invited a few of his friends out to the pub - of which only Molly and Greg had agreed on going- to have an anniversary dinner. Not for Mary and John's anniversary, since they weren't engaged just yet, but for the anniversary of Sherlock's death. John thought that getting a few of his friends together that night might make things a little less painful to deal with. He limped down the street toward the pub, jogging a little as he entered because he was a bit late for the party. Panting, he peered around the room, looking for his girlfriend and friends.

Mary sat alone at a booth towards the corner of the pub, her legs crossed, her foot bouncing. It was a rather quiet spot, which was why she had chosen it, and gave her a good view of the rest of the place. It seemed as if everyone was running a little late or perhaps she was a bit early. Either way, it didn't really matter. She suspected no one truly wanted to come. Of course, they still accepted their invitation, but she could tell from their voices and expressions. And, honestly, who could blame them? It was quite clear that everyone had been shaken by the detective's death, and that was just putting it simply. Especially for John. Oh, John... The woman did worry about her boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes' death had hurt him so badly, and it was certain that today would be hard for him. Though she wished she could do more, she knew that she could only really stand by his side and brave the storm with him. So that was exactly what she was determined to do.

Ten minutes past the time they agreed to meet, Mary spotted John enter the pub. Even from a distance, she could make out the hurt he was dealing with in his expression, and so she waved him over quickly, giving him a soft smile.

Sherlock knew it was an unnecessary risk, that he shouldn't have come. But he did, as he had done every year, to check on John. It was almost over, there was only one man left, but he was the most dangerous of all, so Sherlock had been specially careful.
Hiding in plain sight. It was ridiculous how easy it was. He only had to change slightly his body language, the way he moved and some tiny details of his appearance, and not even his own brother would recognise him.
He sat on a corner, and pretended to read a newspaper. He had learned long ago that nobody would look at him twice while he was doing that.

John was as easy to read as he had been when he had first met him. Like every time he had seen him since he had faked his own dead, he felt an unpleasant emotion filling him. Guilt, he guessed. He didn't understand why he was feeling that; rationally he had taken the best course of action. But emotions weren't rational.

John smiled as he saw Mary, his beautiful Mary, in the quiet booth, reaching up his hand to wave at her. Molly and Greg must not have arrived yet, and for now that was alright with him. He brushed past a man reading a newspaper and accidentally bumped into him, causing the paper to rip. "Jesus, I'm sorry, mate." He said, turning to give the man an apologetic smile, before turning back and heading towards the booth
He sat down with a huff, his leg aching, pulsing with pain from the walk to the pub. "Evening, love." He greeted Mary, giving her a tired smile. Today had been hard- not only was it Sherlock's death anniversary, he'd also had to work at the clinic, a long, full day of increasingly annoying patients.

He was being reckless. He could have observed from the street, or from the coffee nearby. But he had wanted to be closer, to hear and see. He kept his shoulders down, showing insecurity, and avoided John's eyes to reforce the impression. Shy, unconfortable. He also looked much younger, with just a haircut and the right clothes. Of course, John didn't recognised him. It was a good thing, anything else would put in in a great danger, but a part of him couldn't help but to feel disappointed. John always saw, but didn't observe.

He folded the newspaper in a different way so he could keep pretending to read, and observed John as he approached Mary. He couldn't listen, but the body language was clear enough. It made him feel something he couldn't identify. Too many emotions, dangerous. John was fine, he should leave.

Mary scooted over on her side of the booth to allow John to sit down. It was a good thing, too, for he looked almost in pain now. It wasn't blatantly obvious, but she could see it in his lovely blue eyes. There seemed to be physical pain in there, along with the empty hurt of loss. While she had dealt with the emotion herself, she found herself feeling guilty for not being able to do more. Realizing this, she told herself to stop thinking, and just focus on John.

"Evening, dear," she replied, meeting his eyes with an expression that told him she knew what he was dealing with. They held each other's stare for a long moment, before she put a hand on his shoulder, smiling just a little. Then, unable to help herself, she pulled him into a hug, gently rubbing his back. "I'm here," she whispered.

The wind buffeting through his sparse hair, Sebastian crawled to the ledge of the flat roofed building. He folded his hands, rested his chin on them, and peered over the ledge.
"And now..," he heard the voice of his boss (he was still loyal to Jim, regardless of life/death labels) echo through his mind.
"We wait," he finished out loud, his voice a low grumble, fiddling with the safety of the gun in his pocket without looking.
He watched the useless figures pass by on the pavement below. " Ordinary...boring." Sebastian snorted in agreement. Just as, he spotted a blonde but graying head careen into an obviously suspicious looking man. Seb smirked and pushed him self up before meandering down the fire escape, with just about no digression. It wasn't necessary. The good doctor was turning to drink to escape from his thoughts more often than not. Today's date was no coincidence.
"Just wait."

(Sorry guys, busy day!)
John smiled as he sat beside his girlfriend, reaching out to wrap his arm behind her back, leaning close to her. "You haven't been here long, have you?" He asked, before smiling at her as she hugged him. He let her, and wrapped his arms around her, just holding her for a good few seconds before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "Long day." He explained quietly, pulling back and smiling. "I'm yearning for a pint or two. Greg better get here, the banter is more fun with him around." He added, trying to keep in a cheery mood for her sake.

He should leave. Why wasn't he leaving? Last year he had checked that John was safe, and left inmediatly after. And John was better than last year. Maybe it was the girfriend. Sherlock hadn't had the chance to observe her before. No. That wasn't the answer. She was a new variable in John's life, but...she was irrelevant. Why would she be different than any other girfriend John had had?

He focused on John. He was smiling, but it was obviously a fake one, which didn't reach his eyes. That, and the way he was moving...He corrected his former observation; John wasn't better than last year, he was just pretending that he was.

He had to focus on the work. Only one man left, and he could come back. He had a lead, one of his contacts had seen him in Paris two days ago. Emotions were distracting him from that. Rationally he knew that he should have never come here. Five more minutes, he decided. And then not coming back until it was over.

Mary shook her head. "No, don't worry about it. I haven't been here for more than ten minutes or so." Alright, that was a lie. But a very, very small one. The whole thing didn't matter to her much anyways. What did was just getting John through the night, and knowing his tendency to be the first to blame himself, she wanted to steer him away from that path. "I'm just glad to see you." That was very true, at least.

As they pulled back from their embrace, she met his eyes with another knowing smile. Of course the day probably wasn't the best, but it was quite clear to her why he was having to force himself to appear fine. He knew that she could tell, but both silently agreed to get to the subject later. Right now the goal was to just grin and bear it until they could get home, where he could let out everything he'd been holding back, knowing that it was just her who'd hear.

"Yeah, I had a rough day too," she nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, with a quiet chuckle, (albeit just as forced as his smile) she arched a brow. "Well, yes, the banter is better because he's usually pretty tipsy. If not, he's drunk," her smile grew a bit more natural. "But I agree. I could really go for a pint myself." Just make sure he limits himself to one or two, she made mental note. There had been a couple situations before where she found John trying to drink his hurt away. And she didn't blame him. She still did her best to keep him away from turning to that, though, or to take care of him while he was utterly wasted. She wouldn't let this be one of those nights.

John smiled softly and reached a hand to brush her hair back, tucking it again behind her ear just as she had. "It's funny when he's drunk, the drunker the better. I doubt any of us will go home sober tonight." He added, leaning close to her and closing his eyes for a moment. His Mary, what would he do without her? She'd gotten her through this last year, just after he'd met her, and now she'd get him through this again. God, he missed Sherlock. "I'm glad to see you too." He added, leaning in to give her a soft kiss.
He didn't know he was being watched, he had sensed a bit of familiarity with the man he'd bumped into, but never anything that would make him suspect something. The curls, the structure of his face was familiar, but by now it hurt to much to dwell on things like that.

Mary laughed a little and lightly cupped his cheek as she kissed him back. It was true, though. While she didn't know the DI very well, and had only seen him a few times, he was quite entertaining and rather hilarious when he had had a couple pints in him. Still, she didn't want this to turn into an evening where all of them were going to drown their pains in beer. To her, the throwing up and the migraines weren't worth it. Plus, she didn't want this to turn into a habit... You need to stop worrying, sometimes. "I think it would be in our best interests to try not to get drunk, though, wouldn't you agree?" She asked him, her thumb lightly stroking his cheek, slowly. Trying to keep the mood light, she continued, "We don't want to annoy anymore waiters, bartenders, or cabbies than we have to, yeah?"

As it was his habit, specially in the last three years, Sherlock studied his surroundings looking for threats. He didn't feel safe, but he never did. The place wasn't crowded, and he studied the people inside. (that man was cheating on his wife; the waiter was stealing; that woman was a doctor who had lost a patient). Nothing remarcable, so he allowed himself to relax slightly.

He turned his attention back to John, and once more, emotions interferred with his reasoning. He distanced himself from the situation. John...(No, not John....not enough distance. The man in the corner? Better). The man in the corner was tense. He showed signs of sleepless
nights, and was clearly in pain. The woman was his girlfriend. The way they casually touched told him that it was long-term. About a year. There was familiarity, and trust. The woman was clearly worried, and cared deeply for the man. Her shoes were confortable, as was her clothes, but also elegant. So she worked, in something relaxed to...taking care of people? Teacher, doctor, nurse. Not enough data. Irrelevant.

He analised his conclusions. John was safe, and his girlfriend was taking care of him. He had a work to do, but, for the first time in three years, he found himself wondering if he'd have a home to come back. Two more minutes, and then Moran. He couldn't allow distractions.

(Can somebody delete my last entry? Sorry about that, I'm on my phoneand pressed the wrong button)

John frowned softly- he didn't want that. He wanted to get pissed drunk and forget everything bad that had happened, to forget Sherlock Holmes for a night. However, Mary cared about him too much to let him do that to himself. He didn't want to turn into Harry, didn't want to rely on the alcohol, and already he'd been drinking too much lately.
"S-so, um, how was work today, love? Busy?" He asked, trying to get off that subject for a little while, leaning back so he could get a bit more comfortable.

Mary arched a brow, knowing exactly what he was doing. She wanted him to know that, so she made a point in doing so, but otherwise allowed him to steer the conversation onwards. They both knew she'd end up preventing him from downing more pints than he could handle. She just hoped he would somehow be able to understand that it was bad for him, regardless if he was with her or not.
She shrugged. "A typical, boring day. It didn't really help that the weather's so gloomy." Of course, she knew how his day most likely went, but still, she asked, "Did you go into work earlier today?"

John leaned close to her, letting his head rest on her shoulder for a moment, glad to be close with her again. It'd been a long day, but having his girlfriend near was good. Very good. He moved back and listened to her speak, nodding. "Right. It's been gloomy for a week now, I need sun!" He joked, sighing. "Yeah, I did. The clinic was dull, the usual shots and colds and flus. Nothing interesting, really, though Sarah says hi." He added.

(We need Molly and Greg D:)