Post by Dr. John Watson on Sept 18, 2010 11:15:45 GMT -5
Everyday Info.
Name: Dr. John Hamish Watson (MD)
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Birthday/ Zodiac: 12th February 1974 – Aquarius
Occupation: Ex-military doctor, currently unemployed
Nationality: British
Physical
John is just slightly over 5’10, having been considered very short, around 5’0, until having a growth spurt whilst he was in Year 4 of Secondary School. He was once fairly stocky for his rugby career however as his profession choice veered to medicine he quickly became simply very slim, he is considered of average weight for his height.
He has a golden/ dirty blonde hair colour which has yet to grow grey despite his own concerns; it is always kept short and regularly cut after having been disciplined to having it done so by his regiment’s leader. He has very dark round blue eyes that can often look flat or black in the darkness. He constantly has purple circles under his eyes, suffering from frequent nightmares and sleep deprivation after returning from Afghanistan, something which his psychiatrist puts down to post-traumatic stress.
He is usually donned in formal attire; shirts, trousers, plain jeans, dress shoes, jumpers or cardigans. He always wears a jacket when he leaves the house, usually a ‘military jacket’ out of habit. He is not very fashion conscious and wears something he feels is both comfortable and professional.
Celebrity Claim: Martin Freeman.
Emotional
Personality: What your character is really like; are they nice, or are they horrible? Good or evil? Give some detail, one or two paragraphs should do.
Talents:
*Excellent shot with a firearm, 9/10 times the shot will land on it’s intended target.
*Competent doctor and surgeon.
Strengths:
*A natural fighter and survivor.
*Above-average intelligence.
*Is loyal to friends, family and even mere acquaintances.
Weaknesses:
*Can often be oblivious to the obvious.
*Struggles to open up and has trust issues with all types of people.
*Prefers to be in his own company rather than that of others.
Likes:
*John likes being in the midst of battle and danger, he thrives off it.
*John likes being useful, he likes being needed which was one of the reasons he settled upon being a doctor.
*John enjoys writing though often struggles on what to decide to write about.
Dislikes:
*Being bored and not having something to do. After spending his entire life having something to focus on, something that exited him, even the shortest time being unoccupied drives him somewhat insane.
*Monotony.
*Two-faced people and people who enjoy other’s misery.
History: John was born to Thomas Watson and Eliza Marie Watson née Blackwell, the first of only two children. His sister, Harriet Jane Watson or Harry, was born just under a year later. The two were brought up in a suburb in southern London called Hither Green which was a 10 minute walk from the larger area of Blackheath. He wasn’t a rebellious boy, nor did he always abide by the rules, if he wanted to do something and he set his sights on it, then it would inevitably happen.
He had grown up wanting to become a professional rugby player after spending most nights with his father going down to the local rugby pitch to watch their team or sitting infront of their old television. He originally played with just his friends and for the school’s team until his father put in a good word at Blackheath Juniors, for which he was ‘scouted’ for. From the age of 14 he played as a centre-left winger for Blackheath Rugby club up until the age of 18 when he left for Queen Mary, University of London to obtain his degree in Clinical Physiology. The career change came after he After which he attended Barts Medical School of Medicine and Dentistry where he achieved a PhD and subsequently became a Professional Doctorate.
He joined the Army 6 months after being a GP in West Bath, finding that it didn’t satisfy his need to be up participating, instead he was stuck behind a desk listening to dear old biddies complain about their hips and backs at least twice a day. He came to the decision after a man, recently returned from touring in Afghanistan, entered the surgery he was working in and began telling him tales of what had happened whilst John examined his chest.
The Army had interviewed and accepted him within 3 weeks of him handing in his application to the recruiting agency, apparently there was a vast shortage in medical help and troops in all the military forces and they were eager to have his expertise on the front line.
He developed a psychosomatic limp after being shot, however the injury he sustained was to his left shoulder. The army gave him an honourable discharge almost instantly after he was put into a coma, stating “he had been through enough trauma.” It was one of the first things he heard after he came around, upon which he found that he had a great deal of pain when he attempted to walk and grew to deeply believe that he must have also sustained damage to himself after he fell from the shot.
From a very young age he and his sister were unable to get on as they had very differing personalities. Harry looked up to him however her bold and outlandish personality forced him to keep her at a distance especially during the years he was in military service
After he returned from Afghanistan his sister attempted to keep in more frequent contact with him by sending her old mobile phone from Clara as a way for them to speak. He met up twice with her, both times he was reminded bluntly of her alcohol abuse, as he would have to send her back home in a taxi and wait till the morning to receive her hung-over apology. As his situation became decreasingly worse he realized that it would be hopeless to ask for any support from his only sibling. He also felt reluctant to ask his parents who had both entered retirement for any help as they would either pass him over to Harry or become overly concerned for his wellbeing.
Family:
Thomas Watson and Eliza Marie Watson met during the summer of 1970 via two friends who were then a couple. They started dating after several weeks of knowing each other and married after 2 ½ years. Both Thomas and Eliza were ecstatic with the birth of both of their children. Thomas worked as a banker in HSBC for 41 years before retiring, with his mother working as a housewife until both children hit 18, upon which she became a worker at the local preschool, caring for the young.
Both parents were against John joining the Army, concerned that it would result in his death or that he would end up completely invalided and instead wanted him to settle down with a wife and start his own family. His parents were always overly anxious of their son as he never opened up and he in turn was concerned for them. John looks up avidly to both his two parents and craves some aspects of their life but at the same time wishes to avoid the ‘boringness’ and ‘repetitiveness’ of it all.
Harriet Jane Watson grew up being something of a tomboy, finding it easier to bond with John’s friends more than the rest of the girl’s in her year which caused John a great deal of discomfort at his friend’s remarks about her. He felt somewhat responsible for his younger sister, who was always far more outgoing than he was, usually in trouble but he would always do his best to make sure nothing serious ever happened to her.
John never had an issue with his sister admitting to being a lesbian, nor did the rest of the family however he always had an issue with Harry’s wife, Clara. John had met Clara whilst Harry and her were no more than friends and had always had a small crush on the woman though he never acted upon it out of loyalty to Harry and knowing how he would have felt if she had tried to take one of his best friend’s away; happy but with a desire to strangle her.
After Harry announced that they were both planning a divorce he became incredibly infuriated, he knew that Clara had stood by Harry regardless of her alcoholism and had never once complained, she was broken hearted by Harry’s decision. John still supported Harry, simply because she was his sister but he put even more distance between the two of them.
Extra Things
Taken from HEX
My name is Dr. John Watson, aged 31, medical doctor trained by the army in hand-on-hand and weaponry combat. Recently returned from Afghanistan through an honourable discharge from services as part of the British army after suffering permanent damage to my upper femur, which affects my ability to walk without aid though my therapist has pinned it down as a psychosomatic injury.
John stared blankly at the screen, toying with hitting the enter button, it would be his first entry on his blog. It was bare with only a small photo and a banner with his name across however his ‘followers' section was continually expanding, Harry's work no doubt. A faint smile spread across his face as he slammed the delete button, what was the use in reiterating what everyone already knew or trying to explain his own life story to people whom he didn't know. His therapist believed it might help him recover from his ‘injury', by retelling his stories and writing down any other events that were to occur within his life. She simply could not accept that his injury was down to having a piece of shrapnel thrust into his leg. He sighed as he shut the lid of his laptop. It was pointless.
He picked up his drink of coffee and sipped on it, feeling the heat scorch his throat. He looked around before picking up a newspaper that had been left on the side and quickly turned to the jobs section; his army pension barely covered the costs of his one-bedroom flat let alone the costs of further bills or food. He glanced over the jobs, nothing that he could do, he either didn't have the correct qualifications or they were jobs that involved heavy labour. He shut his eyes for a moment, wishing that he was back in the hot desert aiding his comrades not stuck in a dingy café in south London. Well there is no use complaining, you're here and there isn't much you can do other than make things simpler for yourself.
He picked himself off the chair, pulling on his familiar black military jacket however he caught sight of someone rushing in to order a take-away coffee and stopped. There was a face, a face he couldn't quite put a name too. He turned around and looked at John with the same facial expression that he was probably pulling. Then he smiled. That smile hadn't changed since they were at school together; the smallest memory of setting off a cherry bomb in the girl's toilets replayed itself in his mind, followed by his distinct remembrance of him smiling as Goldie Newman ran, screaming and covered in water. Mike Stamford.
“Mike?” John limped towards the man, leaning on the walking stick as lightly as he could manage without causing himself pain.
"John?”
Indeed it was the same Mike Stamford whom had been raised in the same town several miles from Surrey, the same boy who had shared his aspirations of finding a medicine that would cure all diseases before realizing that was unattainable had moved to the dream of doing some good in the world and the same Mike Stamford that had attended Bart's medical school with. A wide smile spread across Mike's face as he took in John's appearance.
“It is you! Last I heard you were out in Afghanistan, on the front line bandaging the boys up.”
“I guess that's one way of putting it. No, I was honourably discharged. Leg.” He indicated his head towards his left leg, there was no obvious sign but it was still there. He sighed. There was nothing honourable about his discharge, the army had decided that due to the accident that occurred they no longer needed him and wished to save him the embarrassment of being fired for an injury. The choice had been taken away and they had left him only a pittance to cover his living costs.
Mike frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as though concerned that he had upset John, John in turn smiled back at him. It seemed as though they both wanted to catch up with each other, they hadn't seen each other in years and both of them had stories to tell. By the end of their series of stories John realized the two highly different circumstances they were in: Mike had a contented life working at Bart's Medical School; happily married with two children and had two homes, one in central London and a villa in Spain. However, Mike proved highly useful in suggestions on how John might be able to manage until he found a job, a roommate. “Who'd want me for a flatmate?”
Mike's face suddenly brightened as he let out a low chuckle, “You're the second person to say that to me today.”
John looked at Mike curiously, “Who else?”
At that Mike's smile turned down slightly but a light still remained in his eyes. “He's quite ... something. I could introduce you to each other if you like. I could take you round to see him now if you're not too busy. It won't hurt you just to meet him.”
As John looked down at the floor he tried to consider it. He wasn't the most sociable person and could be an annoyance at best but if this other person was also somewhat of a difficulty then ... maybe it would be an agreeable partnership. He clasped his hands together as he looked back up at Mike, “I'm sure whoever it is can't be as bad as me. If you're sure then I wouldn't mind you introducing us.” The light grew in Mike's eyes, like he was restraining laughter.
John was escorted to Royal Brompton and Harefield hospital and guided through the series of corridors by Mike who entertained him with tales of the new generations approach to medicine, it hadn't changed from when he was studying. He smiled and made agreeing sounds at a regular intervals, letting him know that he was listening. He wasn't one to speak when it wasn't necessary. He suddenly picked up on something as they passed another sign. “He's a mortician?” He couldn't help but noticed that at every junction there was only one reoccurring section, the morgue.
“Erm ... no,” Mike didn't sound as though he was lying but he sounded almost guilty. There was something he wasn't telling him. He sighed as John's eyebrows rose. No man in there right mind would spend unnecessary time at a morgue, death was an inevitable part of work as a doctor but it wasn't a place that was nice to be regardless and it was something universally avoided.
“Then why are we—"
“It's one of his pastimes ... part of his job should I say.” He meant pastimes; he'd always been a poor liar. John remained silent as his friend lead the way into a lab that was already in use. A man was already in there and he hadn't seemed to notice the newest entries into the room. He watched the man very carefully trying to pick up on something that made him especially strange.
“Watson. Dr. John Watson.” He extended his hand courteously towards the man. He gave a half-hearted smile and tried to remember a name Mike had given him. The more he thought about it, he realized how vague Mike had tried to be with him.
Anything Else: Incredibly likely that age and birthday/ zodiac sign are way off and I just guessed at that. Parents and history were also mostly made up however there are several correct facts.
Where You Found Us: Friend.
Other Characters: Nope.
Name: Dr. John Hamish Watson (MD)
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Birthday/ Zodiac: 12th February 1974 – Aquarius
Occupation: Ex-military doctor, currently unemployed
Nationality: British
Physical
John is just slightly over 5’10, having been considered very short, around 5’0, until having a growth spurt whilst he was in Year 4 of Secondary School. He was once fairly stocky for his rugby career however as his profession choice veered to medicine he quickly became simply very slim, he is considered of average weight for his height.
He has a golden/ dirty blonde hair colour which has yet to grow grey despite his own concerns; it is always kept short and regularly cut after having been disciplined to having it done so by his regiment’s leader. He has very dark round blue eyes that can often look flat or black in the darkness. He constantly has purple circles under his eyes, suffering from frequent nightmares and sleep deprivation after returning from Afghanistan, something which his psychiatrist puts down to post-traumatic stress.
He is usually donned in formal attire; shirts, trousers, plain jeans, dress shoes, jumpers or cardigans. He always wears a jacket when he leaves the house, usually a ‘military jacket’ out of habit. He is not very fashion conscious and wears something he feels is both comfortable and professional.
Celebrity Claim: Martin Freeman.
Emotional
Personality: What your character is really like; are they nice, or are they horrible? Good or evil? Give some detail, one or two paragraphs should do.
Talents:
*Excellent shot with a firearm, 9/10 times the shot will land on it’s intended target.
*Competent doctor and surgeon.
Strengths:
*A natural fighter and survivor.
*Above-average intelligence.
*Is loyal to friends, family and even mere acquaintances.
Weaknesses:
*Can often be oblivious to the obvious.
*Struggles to open up and has trust issues with all types of people.
*Prefers to be in his own company rather than that of others.
Likes:
*John likes being in the midst of battle and danger, he thrives off it.
*John likes being useful, he likes being needed which was one of the reasons he settled upon being a doctor.
*John enjoys writing though often struggles on what to decide to write about.
Dislikes:
*Being bored and not having something to do. After spending his entire life having something to focus on, something that exited him, even the shortest time being unoccupied drives him somewhat insane.
*Monotony.
*Two-faced people and people who enjoy other’s misery.
History: John was born to Thomas Watson and Eliza Marie Watson née Blackwell, the first of only two children. His sister, Harriet Jane Watson or Harry, was born just under a year later. The two were brought up in a suburb in southern London called Hither Green which was a 10 minute walk from the larger area of Blackheath. He wasn’t a rebellious boy, nor did he always abide by the rules, if he wanted to do something and he set his sights on it, then it would inevitably happen.
He had grown up wanting to become a professional rugby player after spending most nights with his father going down to the local rugby pitch to watch their team or sitting infront of their old television. He originally played with just his friends and for the school’s team until his father put in a good word at Blackheath Juniors, for which he was ‘scouted’ for. From the age of 14 he played as a centre-left winger for Blackheath Rugby club up until the age of 18 when he left for Queen Mary, University of London to obtain his degree in Clinical Physiology. The career change came after he After which he attended Barts Medical School of Medicine and Dentistry where he achieved a PhD and subsequently became a Professional Doctorate.
He joined the Army 6 months after being a GP in West Bath, finding that it didn’t satisfy his need to be up participating, instead he was stuck behind a desk listening to dear old biddies complain about their hips and backs at least twice a day. He came to the decision after a man, recently returned from touring in Afghanistan, entered the surgery he was working in and began telling him tales of what had happened whilst John examined his chest.
The Army had interviewed and accepted him within 3 weeks of him handing in his application to the recruiting agency, apparently there was a vast shortage in medical help and troops in all the military forces and they were eager to have his expertise on the front line.
He developed a psychosomatic limp after being shot, however the injury he sustained was to his left shoulder. The army gave him an honourable discharge almost instantly after he was put into a coma, stating “he had been through enough trauma.” It was one of the first things he heard after he came around, upon which he found that he had a great deal of pain when he attempted to walk and grew to deeply believe that he must have also sustained damage to himself after he fell from the shot.
From a very young age he and his sister were unable to get on as they had very differing personalities. Harry looked up to him however her bold and outlandish personality forced him to keep her at a distance especially during the years he was in military service
After he returned from Afghanistan his sister attempted to keep in more frequent contact with him by sending her old mobile phone from Clara as a way for them to speak. He met up twice with her, both times he was reminded bluntly of her alcohol abuse, as he would have to send her back home in a taxi and wait till the morning to receive her hung-over apology. As his situation became decreasingly worse he realized that it would be hopeless to ask for any support from his only sibling. He also felt reluctant to ask his parents who had both entered retirement for any help as they would either pass him over to Harry or become overly concerned for his wellbeing.
Family:
Thomas Watson and Eliza Marie Watson met during the summer of 1970 via two friends who were then a couple. They started dating after several weeks of knowing each other and married after 2 ½ years. Both Thomas and Eliza were ecstatic with the birth of both of their children. Thomas worked as a banker in HSBC for 41 years before retiring, with his mother working as a housewife until both children hit 18, upon which she became a worker at the local preschool, caring for the young.
Both parents were against John joining the Army, concerned that it would result in his death or that he would end up completely invalided and instead wanted him to settle down with a wife and start his own family. His parents were always overly anxious of their son as he never opened up and he in turn was concerned for them. John looks up avidly to both his two parents and craves some aspects of their life but at the same time wishes to avoid the ‘boringness’ and ‘repetitiveness’ of it all.
Harriet Jane Watson grew up being something of a tomboy, finding it easier to bond with John’s friends more than the rest of the girl’s in her year which caused John a great deal of discomfort at his friend’s remarks about her. He felt somewhat responsible for his younger sister, who was always far more outgoing than he was, usually in trouble but he would always do his best to make sure nothing serious ever happened to her.
John never had an issue with his sister admitting to being a lesbian, nor did the rest of the family however he always had an issue with Harry’s wife, Clara. John had met Clara whilst Harry and her were no more than friends and had always had a small crush on the woman though he never acted upon it out of loyalty to Harry and knowing how he would have felt if she had tried to take one of his best friend’s away; happy but with a desire to strangle her.
After Harry announced that they were both planning a divorce he became incredibly infuriated, he knew that Clara had stood by Harry regardless of her alcoholism and had never once complained, she was broken hearted by Harry’s decision. John still supported Harry, simply because she was his sister but he put even more distance between the two of them.
Extra Things
Taken from HEX
My name is Dr. John Watson, aged 31, medical doctor trained by the army in hand-on-hand and weaponry combat. Recently returned from Afghanistan through an honourable discharge from services as part of the British army after suffering permanent damage to my upper femur, which affects my ability to walk without aid though my therapist has pinned it down as a psychosomatic injury.
John stared blankly at the screen, toying with hitting the enter button, it would be his first entry on his blog. It was bare with only a small photo and a banner with his name across however his ‘followers' section was continually expanding, Harry's work no doubt. A faint smile spread across his face as he slammed the delete button, what was the use in reiterating what everyone already knew or trying to explain his own life story to people whom he didn't know. His therapist believed it might help him recover from his ‘injury', by retelling his stories and writing down any other events that were to occur within his life. She simply could not accept that his injury was down to having a piece of shrapnel thrust into his leg. He sighed as he shut the lid of his laptop. It was pointless.
He picked up his drink of coffee and sipped on it, feeling the heat scorch his throat. He looked around before picking up a newspaper that had been left on the side and quickly turned to the jobs section; his army pension barely covered the costs of his one-bedroom flat let alone the costs of further bills or food. He glanced over the jobs, nothing that he could do, he either didn't have the correct qualifications or they were jobs that involved heavy labour. He shut his eyes for a moment, wishing that he was back in the hot desert aiding his comrades not stuck in a dingy café in south London. Well there is no use complaining, you're here and there isn't much you can do other than make things simpler for yourself.
He picked himself off the chair, pulling on his familiar black military jacket however he caught sight of someone rushing in to order a take-away coffee and stopped. There was a face, a face he couldn't quite put a name too. He turned around and looked at John with the same facial expression that he was probably pulling. Then he smiled. That smile hadn't changed since they were at school together; the smallest memory of setting off a cherry bomb in the girl's toilets replayed itself in his mind, followed by his distinct remembrance of him smiling as Goldie Newman ran, screaming and covered in water. Mike Stamford.
“Mike?” John limped towards the man, leaning on the walking stick as lightly as he could manage without causing himself pain.
"John?”
Indeed it was the same Mike Stamford whom had been raised in the same town several miles from Surrey, the same boy who had shared his aspirations of finding a medicine that would cure all diseases before realizing that was unattainable had moved to the dream of doing some good in the world and the same Mike Stamford that had attended Bart's medical school with. A wide smile spread across Mike's face as he took in John's appearance.
“It is you! Last I heard you were out in Afghanistan, on the front line bandaging the boys up.”
“I guess that's one way of putting it. No, I was honourably discharged. Leg.” He indicated his head towards his left leg, there was no obvious sign but it was still there. He sighed. There was nothing honourable about his discharge, the army had decided that due to the accident that occurred they no longer needed him and wished to save him the embarrassment of being fired for an injury. The choice had been taken away and they had left him only a pittance to cover his living costs.
Mike frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as though concerned that he had upset John, John in turn smiled back at him. It seemed as though they both wanted to catch up with each other, they hadn't seen each other in years and both of them had stories to tell. By the end of their series of stories John realized the two highly different circumstances they were in: Mike had a contented life working at Bart's Medical School; happily married with two children and had two homes, one in central London and a villa in Spain. However, Mike proved highly useful in suggestions on how John might be able to manage until he found a job, a roommate. “Who'd want me for a flatmate?”
Mike's face suddenly brightened as he let out a low chuckle, “You're the second person to say that to me today.”
John looked at Mike curiously, “Who else?”
At that Mike's smile turned down slightly but a light still remained in his eyes. “He's quite ... something. I could introduce you to each other if you like. I could take you round to see him now if you're not too busy. It won't hurt you just to meet him.”
As John looked down at the floor he tried to consider it. He wasn't the most sociable person and could be an annoyance at best but if this other person was also somewhat of a difficulty then ... maybe it would be an agreeable partnership. He clasped his hands together as he looked back up at Mike, “I'm sure whoever it is can't be as bad as me. If you're sure then I wouldn't mind you introducing us.” The light grew in Mike's eyes, like he was restraining laughter.
John was escorted to Royal Brompton and Harefield hospital and guided through the series of corridors by Mike who entertained him with tales of the new generations approach to medicine, it hadn't changed from when he was studying. He smiled and made agreeing sounds at a regular intervals, letting him know that he was listening. He wasn't one to speak when it wasn't necessary. He suddenly picked up on something as they passed another sign. “He's a mortician?” He couldn't help but noticed that at every junction there was only one reoccurring section, the morgue.
“Erm ... no,” Mike didn't sound as though he was lying but he sounded almost guilty. There was something he wasn't telling him. He sighed as John's eyebrows rose. No man in there right mind would spend unnecessary time at a morgue, death was an inevitable part of work as a doctor but it wasn't a place that was nice to be regardless and it was something universally avoided.
“Then why are we—"
“It's one of his pastimes ... part of his job should I say.” He meant pastimes; he'd always been a poor liar. John remained silent as his friend lead the way into a lab that was already in use. A man was already in there and he hadn't seemed to notice the newest entries into the room. He watched the man very carefully trying to pick up on something that made him especially strange.
“Watson. Dr. John Watson.” He extended his hand courteously towards the man. He gave a half-hearted smile and tried to remember a name Mike had given him. The more he thought about it, he realized how vague Mike had tried to be with him.
Anything Else: Incredibly likely that age and birthday/ zodiac sign are way off and I just guessed at that. Parents and history were also mostly made up however there are several correct facts.
Where You Found Us: Friend.
Other Characters: Nope.
