Debilitating, Holmes/Watson, 'Sherlock Holmes'
Title: Debilitating
Summary: kinkmeme response. Holmes suffers from migraines due to the amount of data his mind receives. How does Watson take care of him?
Characters: Holmes, Watson
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG-15
Prompt: Holmes gets frequent migraines due the vast amount of information he takes in and processes on a daily basis. The type that just knock you out completely. How does Watson help? Or how does Watson find out? Or...or... anything that relates to the idea of Holmes getting really bad migraines.
At first, Watson was cruel. He would cast open the curtains and light would slice through the room, cutting Holmes’ brain in half. And part of Holmes knew why the doctor was hesitant to believe that these effects were not the result of overuse of cocaine but on the rare occasions when the aberration to light and movement and sound - when the pain in his head from even the slightest twitch of muscle was at its sharpest - Holmes could assure (if the act of talking didn’t jarr his head so much that he almost wept) his dear doctor that his seven percent solution was still tucked securely away in its morocco case underneath the divan.
When he had eventually managed to convince Watson that his hermitage was in fact not drug induced, Watson had taken to leaving him well alone because not only was Holmes in a great deal of pain, he was touchy to boot. And Watson could only take so much of Holmes snapping at him in irritation before even his doctorly patience wore out and he snapped back. But as time wore on and Holmes began to be able to predict the episodes (blind spot appearing in left eye, growing approximately one millimetre every five minutes; dull pain at cerebral cortex; loss of focus - Watson, I do believe that in approximately thirty minutes I will be of no use to anyone), Watson had taken to attending to him. He would help draw the curtains, he would create blindfolds and makeshift earmuffs to block the slightest sound so all that Holmes could hear was the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears - and at times, often that was too much to bear. Watson would fuss until Holmes retired to his bed and in the bouts of consciousness, there was always a fresh tumbler of water within easy reach.
Holmes appreciated those almost as much as he appreciated Watson’s aid in securing a cure. There was none - not yet, at least - but he would take the small comforts for now, knowing that there was nought else to be done.
In the mornings, after a fitful sleep where he would wake as though the pain were a physical entity stabbing at the back of his eyes and making them water, Watson was there with weak tea and a small tray of breakfast foods. He would insist on a bath and fresh clothes after which he would cover Holmes’ ears with the sound-blockers and sit him by the open window. When the pain receded - Watson could always tell, apparently, because Holmes would stop squinting away from the faintest light and start fidgeting in his seat - he would smile and run the back of his fingers over Holmes forehead, eliciting a shiver.
Are you cold, Holmes?
He wasn’t, but he always nodded anyway because how else could he explain the strange reaction to the doctor’s touch? Watson would smile, a glint in his eye and Holmes would wonder why Watson accepted the lie. He wondered why he still insisted on delivering it.
“Feel better, old boy?” Watson asked, sliding the earmuffs from Holmes’ ears and running his fingers through Holmes’ hair, eliciting another illicit shiver. Holmes nodded and tilted his head into the touch. “That’s a shame,” he continued with a smirk and Holmes glowered at him. “You are quite amenable when experiencing debilitating pain.” Watson’s lips pursed. “Or when I wear that military jacket you like so much...”
Holmes groaned and darted his hands out quickly to topple Watson into his lap. The doctor laughed and shifted, touching his fingers to Holmes’ temple but Holmes shook the gentle touch off and dug his fingers into Watson’s side.
“I am feeling much better, thank you, doctor.” Watson smiled and shifted, pulling a groan from Holmes when he brushed against his growing erection. “I do think, however, your expert touch is required elsewhere...”
Watson quirked an eyebrow in amusement but lowered his face to Holmes’, anyway.
“Indeed.”