John was in the middle of listening to 'There is a light that never goes out' when he was launched headfirst into one of those pole-things that had those buttons that made the 'ding' sound to tell the bus driver to stop at the next stop. Of course, the bell didn't stop the bus as much as the fed-ex truck did. John woke up confused and with a splitting headache. The headache wasn't nearly as bad as the pain in his wrists. His eyes fluttered open slowly to reveal the underside of the roof of an ambulance. He attempted to sit up, only to fall back down out of fatigue. He tried a second time and was exponentially more successful. He moved his hands to stead his balance only to feel a searing pain in his wrists as he did so. Much worse than the one he had when he woke up. He made a short groan before quickly moving his hands in front of his face to reveal the fact that his hands were bandaged from the bottoms of his fingers to the bottom of his wrist. 

John closed his eyes and attempted to recall the past events that led up to his newfound inability to give high-fives. He was soon greeted by a medic who informed him of the events that had happened about half-an-hour ago. The medic also informed him that he had smacked his head off of a metal pole and in the process sprained his wrists while trying to stop the impact by raising them. The medic then gave him some painkillers and returned to treating the more seriously wounded victims. John snuck off soon after and walked the way home.

[i]Sunday, 8:14 AM[/i]
John woke up a lot better rested and with a lot less pain than he did the night before. He just lay in bed, staring at his ceiling for a minute or two before sliding around and getting out of bed with a groan. He rubbed his face with his bandaged hand and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of cereal or whatever the correct terminology was for making a bowl of cereal. This thought had never really passed through John's mind until now. He would be more intrigued if the subject were bacon. The mighty pork scratching known as bacon, god of all foods, god of all meats. 

John snapped back to reality with a firm palm to the forehead. His thoughts had been ... random in the past, but thinking about how great bacon was when he had to leave for work in a few minutes was just ... strange. He thought nothing more of it and finished his cereal off quickly before getting into his 'uniform'. Strictly speaking his uniform changed for each case he was on, but usually he could wear just about anything he wanted. He did dress at least semi-formally usually though. Soon enough, he was out of the door, waving to the old woman that had agoraphobia and often thanked, John way too much for picking her mail up for her, and leaving for the bus. Just in time this time. A lot of people may have had some sort of trauma after what had happened the night before to John if it were them. John thought nothing of it though. He didn't let a lot of things get to him.

His bus journey was relatively straightforward. And, by straightforward I do mean that in the literal sense. The route the bus took had hardly any twists or turns and probably could be mistaken for the number nine down the yellow brick road. The places John passed on the way though were rather mundane and bland. He did pass his old boxing gym on the way to work while on the bus. Aah, what memories of being beaten up and beating others up in the name of good fun he had at that club. He practiced boxing a small bit in his teen years and then practiced it a lot when he first came to America before stopping altogether. 

Eventually, John reached his destination. He sighed as he realized the amount of paperwork that had to be done on the case previously and the case he was about to take on. One of the many downsides of investigating a homicide case. He trudged his way into work and then to his desk before staring at the giant pile of paperwork that his boss had probably gleefully placed earlier. His boss had a bad habit of 'mistakenly' placing some of his own paperwork on John's pile. He leaned back in his chair for a second or two before getting to work.

[u]Sunday, 5:00 PM[/u]
John had finally finished the behemoth of paperwork that was before him a few hours ago. It could have probably been done a lot quicker if he hadn't dilly-dallied quite so much. Regular breaks to go to the bathroom where he played on his phone, drawing doodles on scrap paper, heck even staring at the ceiling was better than this. He exited work gleefully and headed to the Chinese place down the road from his work to get early dinner or late lunch depending on how you look at it. The guy who ran the place also served you your food, mostly because it was a family run business that scraped by each month. John liked the owner, he was relatively friendly with John other than the casual racism he threw around while assuming that John was actually from China like himself. John just kind of took it as a joke and went about his day without getting worried about it.

John entered through the [i]'authentic'[/i] oriental doors. The wind chimes jingled as the door bumped against them but were soon interrupted by the callings and arguments of the owner and his daughter. They both worked in the kitchen and took turns operating the front desk which was actually rather baron at the moment, par a few more [i]'authentic[/i] asian decorations. The store owners daughter was American born and had an accent as such. She was still in school and was kind of forced into the family business by her father. Soon enough, John was greeted by the middle-aged asian man dressed in a raggedy chefs outfit.
[i]"Welcome! John, always great to see you! The special I presume?"[/i] John grinned
"What else could I choose, Wei?" He asked rhetorically. The old man just grinned before returning to the kitchen and returning around ten minutes later with John's meal, prepacked in a plastic bag. John had the money ready and laid it on the counter before making small chit-chat while, Wei got his change.
"Had much business recently, Wei?"
[i]"Same faces really, a new guy moved in across the road, some stoner or something, he comes here a [b]lot[/b] with his stoner buddies"[/i] He made a hand gesture in anguish
[i]"If you ask me they should be thrown out for stuff like that, but then again it puts more money in my pocket"[/i] he laughed. John laughed a tiny bit along with him, but it was more of a courtesy laugh than anything. Wei handed John back his money while he responded.
"Not really my department, Wei, I'll see you later" To which, Wei nodded before returning to the kitchen as, John exited.