Hades Lord of the Dead's December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness 2013-2014 - Day Twenty
[Prompt from CJNWriter]From cjnwriter: Dec 20: A seriously injured Holmes shows up at Watson and Mary's house on Christmas Eve
I had just completed my patients' visits and returned to my home to discover that the tree that I had selected earlier in the day had been delivered in my absence. Mary and the servants had set it up in our parlor between the armchairs in front of the window.
"It's a lovely tree John," she remarked with a happy smile. "Warm yourself while I bring down the decorations. I should like to make a start at least before dinner."
Before I could reply there was a knock at our door. I had no intention of answering it, but there was something familiar about the sound that caused me to go to the door and I reached it before the maid.
The sight that greeted me chilled me much more than the cold air that assailed me. Sherlock Holmes was all but lying upon my step, blood running from beneath his sleeve and dripping upon the step. His leg was obviously paining him dreadfully as well, for it would not take his wait.
Holmes attempted to smile. "S'ry to b'ther yuh W'son," he whispered before collapsing altogether.
"Who is it John?" my wife asked as she stepped into the hall behind me.
"Mary I need my bag," I called to her as I attempted to keep my old friend's unconscious body up and away from the cold step. "And see that the couch in my consulting room is in order; we are going to have a patient making use of it for a day or two."
My dear wife gave no arguments and was away again at once, while I pulled my friend inside and shut the front door. Poor Holmes! He had lost a lot of blood and was cold to the touch. I feared that I might be unable to save the fellow.
Despite aching limbs and numb fingers I carried Holmes to my consulting room and set him down upon the freshly-prepared couch. I then sent for my neighbour to assist me while I assessed my friend's injuries.
By the time Anstruther arrived I had discovered that Holmes had a shallow (but quite serious enough) gash to his stomach and that he had stab wounds to his back, arms, legs and shoulder. Under the knife wounds, bruises were also present, suggesting that he had been kicked and punched as well. Yet in spite of this, he had clearly put up quite a fight for his stick had multiple nicks in it and I could see that he had also made good use of his fists. I felt sick as I realised that there must have been more than one man fighting him. How I wished that I had been with him when he was attacked.
Anstruther and I tended to my old friend's wounds and made him comfortable first of all. We then fed Holmes some small quantities of water in an attempt to assist his body in righting itself after losing so much blood. There was little more that could be done and so I prepared to remain at his side and watch over him while Mary decorated our tree alone.
"Watson."
The quiet voice pulled me from a doze that I had not realised that I had succumbed to and I forced myself awake hastily to find Holmes' weary eyes gazing at me from beneath heavy lids.
"Hello Holmes," I whispered back as I gently touched his less-injured hand. "Please stay quiet for now. You should not talk."
"Nonsense. It is not as bad as it seems," he attempted to smile. "I think I have been worse..."
I shook my head. "Your condition is quite bad enough old fellow. You shall have to stay in bed for a few days."
"I shall die of boredom!"
"You are much more likely to die of complications of some kind," I snapped back at him. "Stop being so ridiculous. Have a drink - you must drink plenty of water to make up for all the blood that you have lost - and try to sleep."
"Pah!" he folded his arms and then gave a quiet gasp of pain.
I nodded, somehow remaining sympathetic. "You are badly hurt old fellow. You must rest and submit yourself to my ministrations for now."
I did not offer Holmes any Christmas dinner that evening as the blood-loss would have left him without appetite. I instead ensured that he had plenty to drink and was comfortable and did not leave his side unless Mary was at hand.
I watched the stars through the open curtains of the consulting room so as to remain wakeful. I was still awake, if more than a little weary, when daybreak arrived with the chimes of church bells.
Holmes awoke at just after ten o'clock and claimed to be feeling well enough to return to Baker Street and "impose no longer", but I could not allow that. He was clearly still far from well.
Mary and I opened our Christmas presents with our friend and entertained him (when he was awake) with festive songs, carols and short stories. We did our utmost to make him feel welcome, as he had been quite horrified when he realised that he had arrived on our doorstep on Christmas Eve.
"I should not have bothered you," Holmes muttered again as I changed his bandages. "What must you think of me?"
"I think that you were wise to seek help," I told him firmly. "Do stop fretting."
He gave me the ghost of a smile. "You are too good to me."
And he was beginning to worry me, for this was not like my friend at all. I decided to change the subject. "What happened to you old fellow? Can you remember?"
"Of course I can Watson; I still have all my faculties," he groaned and closed his eyes. "My apologies old fellow. I did not mean that. I was surrounded by four men... I was more than a match for them until they pulled out knives. Even then..." he gave a sudden shiver and winced. "Even then, my stick and I gave them one or two things to think about."
I touched his hand gently. "I take it that this was courtesy of a case."
"Yes. My quarry was feeling threatened," he shrugged and then flinched with pain. "It means that I am warm, as the children say."
"You should have taken me along with you."
He smiled and then shook his head. "I could not do that to Mrs. Watson. Least of all at this time of year."
I felt a lump come to my throat as I realised that he had kept me from danger to spare my wife.
"Did I do wrong?"
I shook my head and did my utmost to smile at him. "I am very touched," I assured him. "Mary will be as well. All the same, an extra pair of fists, a heavy stick and an old service revolver would have evened the odds rather. Next time that there is danger include me in the case."
Holmes remained in my consulting room all that week and then he moved into my guest room after that. I am sure that he would not have remained so long or submitted to my ministrations with such little fuss were I any other doctor (in fact, he would usually make much more of a fuss about my own directives in any case) and I found myself wondering whether I had been missed.
I had just completed my patients' visits and returned to my home to discover that the tree that I had selected earlier in the day had been delivered in my absence. Mary and the servants had set it up in our parlor between the armchairs in front of the window.
"It's a lovely tree John," she remarked with a happy smile. "Warm yourself while I bring down the decorations. I should like to make a start at least before dinner."
Before I could reply there was a knock at our door. I had no intention of answering it, but there was something familiar about the sound that caused me to go to the door and I reached it before the maid.
The sight that greeted me chilled me much more than the cold air that assailed me. Sherlock Holmes was all but lying upon my step, blood running from beneath his sleeve and dripping upon the step. His leg was obviously paining him dreadfully as well, for it would not take his wait.
Holmes attempted to smile. "S'ry to b'ther yuh W'son," he whispered before collapsing altogether.
"Who is it John?" my wife asked as she stepped into the hall behind me.
"Mary I need my bag," I called to her as I attempted to keep my old friend's unconscious body up and away from the cold step. "And see that the couch in my consulting room is in order; we are going to have a patient making use of it for a day or two."
My dear wife gave no arguments and was away again at once, while I pulled my friend inside and shut the front door. Poor Holmes! He had lost a lot of blood and was cold to the touch. I feared that I might be unable to save the fellow.
Despite aching limbs and numb fingers I carried Holmes to my consulting room and set him down upon the freshly-prepared couch. I then sent for my neighbour to assist me while I assessed my friend's injuries.
By the time Anstruther arrived I had discovered that Holmes had a shallow (but quite serious enough) gash to his stomach and that he had stab wounds to his back, arms, legs and shoulder. Under the knife wounds, bruises were also present, suggesting that he had been kicked and punched as well. Yet in spite of this, he had clearly put up quite a fight for his stick had multiple nicks in it and I could see that he had also made good use of his fists. I felt sick as I realised that there must have been more than one man fighting him. How I wished that I had been with him when he was attacked.
Anstruther and I tended to my old friend's wounds and made him comfortable first of all. We then fed Holmes some small quantities of water in an attempt to assist his body in righting itself after losing so much blood. There was little more that could be done and so I prepared to remain at his side and watch over him while Mary decorated our tree alone.
"Watson."
The quiet voice pulled me from a doze that I had not realised that I had succumbed to and I forced myself awake hastily to find Holmes' weary eyes gazing at me from beneath heavy lids.
"Hello Holmes," I whispered back as I gently touched his less-injured hand. "Please stay quiet for now. You should not talk."
"Nonsense. It is not as bad as it seems," he attempted to smile. "I think I have been worse..."
I shook my head. "Your condition is quite bad enough old fellow. You shall have to stay in bed for a few days."
"I shall die of boredom!"
"You are much more likely to die of complications of some kind," I snapped back at him. "Stop being so ridiculous. Have a drink - you must drink plenty of water to make up for all the blood that you have lost - and try to sleep."
"Pah!" he folded his arms and then gave a quiet gasp of pain.
I nodded, somehow remaining sympathetic. "You are badly hurt old fellow. You must rest and submit yourself to my ministrations for now."
I did not offer Holmes any Christmas dinner that evening as the blood-loss would have left him without appetite. I instead ensured that he had plenty to drink and was comfortable and did not leave his side unless Mary was at hand.
I watched the stars through the open curtains of the consulting room so as to remain wakeful. I was still awake, if more than a little weary, when daybreak arrived with the chimes of church bells.
Holmes awoke at just after ten o'clock and claimed to be feeling well enough to return to Baker Street and "impose no longer", but I could not allow that. He was clearly still far from well.
Mary and I opened our Christmas presents with our friend and entertained him (when he was awake) with festive songs, carols and short stories. We did our utmost to make him feel welcome, as he had been quite horrified when he realised that he had arrived on our doorstep on Christmas Eve.
"I should not have bothered you," Holmes muttered again as I changed his bandages. "What must you think of me?"
"I think that you were wise to seek help," I told him firmly. "Do stop fretting."
He gave me the ghost of a smile. "You are too good to me."
And he was beginning to worry me, for this was not like my friend at all. I decided to change the subject. "What happened to you old fellow? Can you remember?"
"Of course I can Watson; I still have all my faculties," he groaned and closed his eyes. "My apologies old fellow. I did not mean that. I was surrounded by four men... I was more than a match for them until they pulled out knives. Even then..." he gave a sudden shiver and winced. "Even then, my stick and I gave them one or two things to think about."
I touched his hand gently. "I take it that this was courtesy of a case."
"Yes. My quarry was feeling threatened," he shrugged and then flinched with pain. "It means that I am warm, as the children say."
"You should have taken me along with you."
He smiled and then shook his head. "I could not do that to Mrs. Watson. Least of all at this time of year."
I felt a lump come to my throat as I realised that he had kept me from danger to spare my wife.
"Did I do wrong?"
I shook my head and did my utmost to smile at him. "I am very touched," I assured him. "Mary will be as well. All the same, an extra pair of fists, a heavy stick and an old service revolver would have evened the odds rather. Next time that there is danger include me in the case."
Holmes remained in my consulting room all that week and then he moved into my guest room after that. I am sure that he would not have remained so long or submitted to my ministrations with such little fuss were I any other doctor (in fact, he would usually make much more of a fuss about my own directives in any case) and I found myself wondering whether I had been missed.