John and Rose have some dinner conversation before Rose wanders off.
Many thanks to the lovely Veritascara, for slogging through grammar corrections
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However, this time John Watson, somehow in his ordinary life, had managed to stumble on to something rather extraordinary, something that just wasn't possible: he had found a woman who did not exist. There were no records attached to her picture; no pictures at all before yesterday could be located. He had the most sophisticated searches at his fingertips, and they could find nothing about her. The other extraordinary thing appeared to be some sort of distortion around her image–not visible in person, it manifested only in recordings. This could be useful. Hopefully, she stayed interesting. If not, any tool can be used and discarded.
~~~~~
Within minutes, John relaxed and found himself talking to Rose about, well, everything. After they had settled into the pub, she had simply asked him a question or two, and suddenly he was at ease, and they were talking–well, mostly about him, his work, his life in London, his past as a soldier and so forth. Though he saw a slight reaction when he told her he was a doctor, it didn't seem like his profession bothered her. It wasn't until they were almost done with their chips that he realized he had been chatting as if to an old and trusted friend. He sat back and looked at her with a bit of wonder. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?" Rose looked at him, puzzled, neatly eating her last chip.
"Do this," John waved a hand between them. "We just sat down, and I end up telling you all about myself, while you've hardly said anything about you."
She flashed him a grin, a bit of humor lurking in her eyes. "Most people like talking about themselves, so if you are willing to listen, all you need is a question or two."
He gave a small shake of his head as his phone chimed and pulled it out of his pocket. "Like to talk about, maybe, but it is not that easy to get people to just relax and open up like you did."
Rose jerked her shoulders in a casual shrug. "I like listening. You can find out all sorts of int'resting things listening. Plus, it makes people more comfortable. 'Sides, you aren't that bad. I had a friend that had more than a bit of a gob on him. Could outtalk anything, that one. It got him into trouble and then back out again, at times." A trace of sorrow flickered through her eyes, despite the fondness in her tone.
John caught that flicker and set his phone to the side, focusing on her. "I bet you had to get him out of trouble a time or two all by yourself."
Rose gave a fond smile and rolled her eyes. "More than a few, but it was worth it. He took me traveling; we went around and saved people, getting into trouble in the process. We took turns saving each other, really. He taught me a better way of living."
"You sound like you miss it–must have been quite the life." The phone on the table next to John chimed again, and he ignored it. "Think you will ever go back to that?"
As she shook her head, her expression became more guarded. "No, it isn't possible. Not like it was, anyways. Maybe I'll travel again, but not with him, not like that."
He didn't know her well enough yet to offer a sympathetic ear. He wasn't sure if that would be a good idea or not. Still, he could try asking a few more questions, try to get her to open up. If nothing else, maybe get the smile back. Rose looked like she could use more smiles in her life. "Well, if you get really bored, there are always the tour groups around London. You have to be careful, though; they say some of the food is a bit dodgy."
The guarded expression vanished, and her eyes lit up with an amused smile. "Oh, I'm rubbish with tour groups. Always wandering off, that's me. Bit of a rule breaker. But what fun are rules, anyways? Best way to get to know a place is just jump right in–eat the food, talk to the locals, and kiss a few strangers." Now real amusement beamed on her face. "Get arrested a few times . . ."
"Arrested, really?" John couldn't help but laugh and smile back. "What on earth did you do to get yourself tossed into jail?"
"Which time?" The tip of her tongue stuck out of her grin at his incredulous expression. "Mostly it was cultural misunderstandings. Had to make a break for it a time or two, but most of them were easily resolved."
"Well, maybe I need to warn our local police force about you, then." She laughed at his joke, and he smiled, happy to have gotten her to relax. "You could still go around helping people, if that is what you wanted to do. There are lots of ways to do that."
"True." Thoughtful, Rose cupped her hands around her glass. "Did a bit of that in my old job–was sort of a private security firm, mostly aimed at helping foreign travelers. The work I did traveling helped quite a bit with that."
"That sounds like quite the job. Why did you leave?"
Before Rose could answer his question, his phone chimed yet again on the table, causing Rose to shoot it an amused look. "Need to get that?"
With an exasperated sigh, John reached over to pick his phone back up. "It's just my flat mate; he tends to do that when he gets bored or needs something. He's not very good at considering that he might be interrupting other people. Come to think of it, he's not really good with personal boundaries, either."
"Really?" Rose didn't bother hiding her amusement. "Sounds the guy I used to travel with. Well, no worries, I'm used to it. I'll go get us more drinks, and you can answer that."
John shook his head, "Rose, you don't have to do that. Really."
"I don't mind. You can tell me about him when I get back. Besides, if he is anything like my friend, he'll just keep at it until you reply, anyway." As if on cue, the phone chimed with another text message, and Rose laughed. "See? I'll be right back."
"Fine, but when you come back, we're trading those stories–not just me talking." As Rose collected their glasses and headed towards the bar, John started scrolling through his texts.
Almost done with Mycroft's case, bored now.
SH
Anything unusual happening there in London?
SH
Have a possible case for when I get back.
SH
Still bored.
SH
With an irritated sound, John started texting him back.
Busy at the moment, at dinner with a friend. Why don't you check online if anything is happening in London.
JW
Already did that, it was boring.
SW
Well I haven't heard anything and I'm busy with dinner.
JW
Who are you meeting for dinner anyways? It's not your sister, Lestrade is working on a boring case, Molly is at the morgue, and Mrs. Hudson is at home.
SH
I have more friends than that. When were you so interested in my personal life anyways?
JW
No you don't. Not since that last date with the woman with small dogs.
SH
Yes I do. I'm going back to my dinner now. I'll do whatever research later.
JW
Still bored.
SH
Why don't you think up a new experiment and ask Molly if she has anything for you. I won't even complain as long as you keep it sealed up.
JW
When the phone didn't chime again, he tucked it back into his pocket with a sigh just as Rose returned with their drinks. "Found something to keep him busy?"
"Hopefully," John said without much actual hope in his voice. He took his drink with a nod of thanks. "Truth to be told, I probably just sent him to go bother someone else for a bit, instead."
Rose laughed at that, sitting back with her drink. "Yeah, definitely sounds like the friend I used to travel with. He didn't sleep a lot and had the nasty habit of bursting into my room when he thought I had slept enough to be dragged off on the next adventure."
"That sounds exactly like Sherlock. Well, at least you'll be used to it when it happens, because I guarantee if you stay my friend, he'll end up interrupting something sooner rather than later. Ruined several dates, he did. Makes it rather difficult to chat a girl up when he's busy talking about crime scenes and corpses. Don't get me started on his experiments." With another eye roll, John took a drink.
The words "Sherlock," "crime," and the fact that she was having dinner with John Watson clicked together in her mind. Slowly, she put her tankard down, giving John an odd look. "Are you having me on?"
"Pardon?" John shot her a confused expression.
"Your flatmate–his name is Sherlock and talks about crimes and corpses?" John's expression cleared a little at her question.
"Oh, sorry. Sherlock's not like a murderer or anything like that; he's a sort of . . . consulting detective. Takes on cases and sometimes helps solve crimes when the police are stumped. Though I probably shouldn't say much more than that," John offered.
Roes gave him a good long look that had John shifting a little in his seat. "So your flat mate, he's what, Sherlock Holmes?"
"Yes, why? Have you read my blog?" John braced himself; this could be very good or very bad.
Several possibilities ran rapidly through Rose's mind. First, that this guy was an escaped mental patient, but he didn't come across as someone with mental issues, other than being a soldier. Two, he was trying to play some elaborate joke on her, which also didn't ring quite true. John seemed too puzzled and too sincere for that, and possessed no real motivation that might lead him to play a joke like that on her. The third possibility, she had landed in a universe where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were not fictional characters, but real people. Goodness knows her life would seem like a strange science fiction tale to anyone. So why not a universe where a fictional character was quite real?
"No," Rose began slowly. "Can't say that I have. I have heard about his cases, though. Possible that someone else told me." She then leaned forward with a bit of a grin. "So tell me, is he really that brilliant?"
"Yes, he's that good. At least when it comes to solving crimes. He's not so good when it comes to interacting with people. Like I said, you'll end up meeting him sooner or later." John watched her carefully as he talked.
Sitting back, Rose grinned widely. "I'm used to that. The guy I traveled with, complete genius, but had the manners sometimes of a hyperactive toddler. Oh, he used to drive me mad sometimes; he could be both moody and manic. He actually became less moody. Never stopped being rude, though."
Relaxing, John shook his head with a smile, "That sounds like Sherlock. I guess I don't have to warn you about him, then. Sounds like you already know how to handle someone like that."
"Yeah, I do." For a moment Rose's expression slid towards something heartbreakingly wistful. "Be ready to run into danger at a moment's notice. You have to know the right questions to ask to help him think, or when to just let him think. When he is being moody, know when to leave him alone and when he needs a hand to hold. Give 'im the occasional ego boost, because God knows genius loves an audience. Last but not least, know when to stand up to him and tell him to get his head out of his arse."
John's jaw wanted to drop at her description. "Are you sure you don't know Sherlock? Because that sounds exactly right. Well, except for the hand holding bit–not too sure he'd be keen on that." Imagining Sherlock's expression if John tried to hold his hand was enough to need to hold back a laugh.
"I'm sure, mate." Her smile returned, the wistful expression banished. "Like I said, the guy I traveled with was just like that." Her hand went to her neck, fingertips brushing over a gold chain that disappeared under her shirt.
In her, John began to sense a sort of kindred spirit, one that could probably deal with whatever Sherlock threw at her. The motion of her hand–her touch on the gold chain–didn't escape his notice, so he decided to pry a bit gently, "Bit more than a friend, was he?"
She went utterly still for a moment and then relaxed. "It's a very long and complicated story; doesn't matter much–lost him in the end." The light in her eyes dimmed again. "I lost everyone, really. I wasn't doing well, decided it was time for a change, and, well, used his last gift and ended up here. Trying for a fresh start. It's time for me to start living again."
John sat his drink down and pulled out his small pad of paper and a pen. "Well, you have at least one friend here now, so you aren't quite alone." He began writing on the paper, tore it off the pad, and offered it to her. "Here, my mobile. You need a friend or someone to talk to, just let me know."
Slowly, she took it, the light peeking out behind the clouds in her eyes. "Thank you. I really don't know what else to say, but thank you. Strange. You only just met me, and you really do seem like you want to help."
"I know what it's like, needing to start over." John gave a deprecating shrug. "And, well, sometimes people just sweep into your life, and you end up on a grand new adventure."
He was thinking about his own meeting with Sherlock, but for Rose, his words also invoked meeting the Doctor. She gave a small smile. "I s'pose you are right. Thanks, John. I have to pick up a mobile. Mine's not working right. When I do, I'll give you a call or a text so you have the number.
The phone in John's pocket chimed again, causing Rose's smile to flash wider. "Apparently, he wasn't diverted for long."
"Bloody hell," John groaned.
Rose shook her head, taking a moment to drain her drink. "Don't worry about it. I'm about ready for a walk, anyways. I want to think. Too used to running at the drop of a hat, I guess–makes me restless at times."
"If you are sure, and I warn you, if you do end up meeting Sherlock, and he gets your number, you are likely to get texts like this as well," he replied, his tone laced with both exasperation and a touch of affection.
Rose just shrugged her shoulders. "Like I told you, I'm used to dealing with moody geniuses. If he aggravates me enough, I'll just tell him to sod off."
John looked at her with a trace of wonder for a moment. "You know, I think you would, and it would be good for him."
Rose grinned and gave a mock salute as she headed off. "Good luck, John. I'll be seeing you."
John watched her go, finally turning back to read the text on his phone.
Molly has something for you to pick up. Bored now.
SH
Muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath, John headed off to the morgue.
~~~~~
Rose walked down the street, backpack resettled on her back. Even as she processed her conversation with John, she kept an awareness of her surroundings–the traffic, or lack thereof, other people out on the sidewalk, and all the sounds and smells surrounding her. It was second nature now and had been part of her Torchwood training. This kind of awareness had saved her life more than once while traveling. It did not, however, extend to any cameras that might have been watching her. She was good, but not omniscient.
A part of the conversation with John had really resonated within Rose. John was right; she could still do some good in the world. Just because she didn't have her Doctor anymore or the resources of Torchwood, didn't mean she was helpless. She didn't need to save the world, in order to save someone's world. Sometimes, it wasn't the big things; it was the little ones that meant the most.
Something prickled her awareness, and she pulled herself out of her thoughts. Nothing seemed off, yet something was drawing her attention. Carefully, she tucked her hands into her pockets, which held any number of useful items, if danger presented itself. Everything appeared calm, normal, even. It made her wonder just what it was that had tried to catch her attention. Then, across the street, a youth sprinted forward, grabbing a woman's handbag, jerking it free, and taking off with it. The woman screeched, and Rose knew she was too far away to run down the thief herself.
That's when her hand closed around the apple in her pocket. Pulling it out, she quickly whipped her arm forward, aiming for the back of his head. It nailed him, causing him to stumble and fall. He tried to scramble quickly to his feet, but the woman he robbed was no wilting flower and had almost caught up with him. He could try to get away with the bag and risk getting caught, or leave the bag and be more likely to escape. He chose to leave the bag behind.
Rose smiled to herself, just continuing to walk, not drawing any attention. The woman across the street scooped up her handbag and looked around. She didn't appear to have spotted her savior, just crowds of people walking by. Yes, sometimes it was small, semi-ordinary deeds that could save someone's world.
The smile stayed on Rose's face as she headed to get her own mobile and then back to the hotel. She'd wait to text John, tomorrow maybe. For now, she had some research to check on and possibilities spreading before her. Maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.
~~~~~
The woman on the street might not have caught the throw, but a camera did. Sitting back, the spider in his web watched the video. It was odd, this stranger who didn't exist, using something so ordinary to save some bit of nothing and not stopping to gain any reward.
The slight distortion on the video around her form–it didn't seem to be around anyone but her. No matter which camera caught it, it was still there. Yes, this woman bore watching.
