bakerstreet | FUCK THIS, I JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY

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FUCK THIS, I JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY

FUCK THIS, I JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY

originally posted by

➘ This is a meme created for people who need a break from RL stuff right now and are just going: FUCK THIS, I JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY

INSTRUCTIONS
➘ Post with your character below, listing their name and canon in the subject.
➘ Roll 1-10 RNG to roleplay out one of the scenes below or simply just tag!
➘ Roll to your hearts content, feel free to play out as many scenarios as you can.
➘ HAVE FUN WITH YOUR SHENANIGANS

SCENARIOS

01 » FIGHTING - Emotional or Physical. Your characters are not getting along. What do.
02 » DRINKING/DRUNK - Having a beer, dancing in a club, sipping some bubbly in the bathtub, being outrageously drunk.
03 » AWKWARD - Whoops. Your character just walked into something he shouldn't have.
04 » FLUFF - Walking in the rain together, pecks on the cheek, give us cavities.
05 » ROMANTIC - Play something shippy out. Mornings after, confessions, cuddles, smut, anything goes.
06 » IN YOUR SHOES/BODY SWAP - Your character wakes up to find themselves swapped in the world or the body of the person they've tagged.
07 » CONFESSIONS - Spill it. From, I've been secretly pining you forever to yes, I did eat the last pop tart.
08 » 7-MINUTES IN HEAVEN - Your characters are now stuck in a closet together for seven minutes (IE, MUST BE AT LEAST 7-POSTS)
09 » CRACK - Why is there a goat in our living room?
10 » WHATEVER - PLAY ANYTHING. THIS IS WHAT THIS MEME IS ABOUT.

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She stares for a moment, and only barely keeps her eyes from flitting back to the people who supposedly made this insane bet.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah, of course." She motions to the chair across from her. "Please do."

"Thank you."

He pulls his chair out and eases into it, keeping his attention firmly on her and pointedly away from that table. If Joan manages to catch it out of the corner of her eye, now or in the future, she'll see two men somewhere in their thirties staring not-so-furtively in her direction and whispering to each other conspiratorially over their cappuccinos.

"One of the blokes just proposed to his girlfriend this morning and she turned him down, so he's a bit sceptical about the whole concept of romance in general. That's how I came to have an engagement ring in my possession in the first place, I'm afraid it was all I could do to convince him not to throw it down a sewer grate."

"Daring your buddy to propose to some random person is quite a way to deal with rejection. Most men I know would probably just go get really drunk and wind up in the ER."

She's impressed, though, by how kind and fundamentally decent this man appears to be. She holds out her hand.

"I'm Joan, by the way."

He hastily brings his up to meet the gesture.

"John. John Watson. And I do try my best to keep my friends out of the ER. When we're off the rugby pitch, anyway." He shrugs just a little, smiling with a touch of self-consciousness.

"On the pitch too, but to be honest that's more a matter of self-preservation these days than anything else."

"John Watson? Really?"

She does flick her eyes over now, not all the way, but definitely enough to see the two men watching them out of the corner of her eye.

"That's my last name, too. Watson."

She leans forward, frowning slightly.

"That's quite a coincidence. Did someone put you up to this?"

He's stunned. Really and truly stunned. Either that or he's a hell of an actor and wasting his talent on something as ridiculous as this little scheme.

"You... what?"

John blinks a few times before his brow furrows. "No, nothing like that... well yes, I was put up to it but not like that."

He digs a wallet out of his trouser pocket and flips it open to his driver's license. Not a very flattering picture but it's him alright, and John Watson is what's written on it.

"Please pardon my saying so, but your name is very unusual for someone with Asian ancestry. How did you have the odd misfortune of being saddled with the Watson family crest?"

"It was one of those instances at Ellis Island where the last name was approximated, and it stuck."

She looks at the license, then hands the wallet back.

"Sorry. You seem like a really nice guy, but I have some friends who I would not put past trying to pull something like this."

"It seems you've got some rather colourful friends. Wouldn't mind meeting them, they'd probably fit right in with the strange sort I seem to attract."

After tucking his wallet away he starts pondering lightly. "It looks like we might be too closely related for marriage? On the plus side I would have no trouble introducing you as 'Ms. Watson' with a straight face."

She smiles. "Clearly we're not that closely related."

She's glad that this isn't a set-up. Well, any more than he had revealed at the get-go. She's starting to like John, and it would have made her feel foolish if all this had been an act.

"Tell me more about yourself."

He paused, very briefly, trying to decide how to begin.

"Well I was born and raised in London with a sister named Harriet. My father was a career army doctor, but I didn't let that stop me from choosing the same career myself. My mother was a fifth grade teacher, and even though her job was even more hazardous than my father's she managed to outlive him by almost twelve years. Harry is some kind of high powered something-or-other for a bank. She has an inconvenient habit of getting promoted every time I manage to learn her job title so I simply don't bother anymore, and it just now occurred to me that I've managed to make the conversation dreadfully boring."

John tipped his head in Joan's direction to indicate hitting the conversational ball back into her court. "Do you prefer the cinema or live stage acting?"

She smiles at him, rather charmed by his unexpectedly thorough recounting of his background. "No, you're not boring at all. Personally, I like the movies, although I do have a fondness for opera. But you said you're a doctor? Clearly you're not in the army any more. Do you still practice?"

"Opera? Really? I've never actually been, myself. And yes I still practice, but right now it's part time plus covering the odd shift at a clinic. It's a bit of a change, going from wounded soldiers to kindergarteners with the sniffles, but I find it oddly refreshing."

He glances toward the waiter. "Can I buy you a drink? A peppermint mocha perhaps? Or are you the type who goes straight for the hard stuff in the deceptively tiny little cups with the innocent looking tiny saucers and spoons?"

"Actually, I tend to be the sort to take my coffee black. It's a habit I picked up in med school."

She smiles.

"But a peppermint mocha sounds nice. Thank you."

"You're a doctor too?"

He stopped halfway into the action of getting the waiter's attention, hand still slightly raised, looking back at Joan instead now.

"Well that's lucky too, I suppose! No marital strife over not understanding the demands of the other person's job?"

"Used to be, actually. A surgeon. I left medicine, though. Still, I'd definitely know what to expect, were I to marry a doctor."

She looks up, and notices the waiter glancing over at their table, looking confused as to whether or not he was actually being summoned. She catches John's eye and nods in the waiter's direction.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Right." John actually manages to focus on the waiter long enough to order a peppermint mocha and a cappuccino before turning back around.

"So it seems you 'outrank' me in terms of medical training. Not a problem! I'm not the sort of man who would suffer an inferiority complex over it, though you might be given some flak about marrying below your station."

"I don't think that will be too much of a problem."

She is, after all, as Sherlock keeps reminding her, a disgraced surgeon who now babysits addicts. But that's a conversation for another time. Instead, she smiles, and changes the subject.

"You asked about movies versus theater. How about you? What's your preference?"

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