Beatings - A Sherlock Holmes One-Shot
My thanks to BallyK, who provided me with the prompt: [Spoiler (click to open)]"They get beat up after a case and all they can do is drag themselves home and they accidentally fall asleep on Holmes bed after patching each other up."
"Are you badly hurt Watson?" Holmes asked, his eyes wide and his hands trembling slightly as he assessed the injury to the side of my head and then lifted my head and shoulders from off the cold pavement. We had just received a beating, courtesy of the family of a young ruffian that we had aided Inspector Lestrade in capturing, during a walk home that should have been brief.
I shook my head as he helped me to my feet and instantly regretted it. Perhaps the blow to my ear had done a little more harm than I had realised, for I at once was beset by vertigo and nausea.
I became aware of a hand upon my shoulder and a quiet apology at my uninjured ear. "There were simply too many of them," my companion mumbled.
"It was not your fault Holmes. Come on, it is not far to Baker Street now."
He nodded and flinched ever so slightly when he put his weight upon his right foot. If I did not know him so well I am certain that I would have failed to notice.
"Holmes? Are you all right old chap?"
He nodded and flashed a pained smile at me. "No serious damage done," he assured me.
It proved to be a long walk home, made all the longer by my head injury, which caused me to lean all too heavily on my already limping friend and forced me to stop twice to vomit into the gutter, much to Holmes' distress and concern.
With my companion's promise of cool drinking water to ease my nausea urging me ever onward, I stumbled along at his side. I spoke not at all but my friend did not cease his words of encouragement until we at last reached our sitting room.
I was helped to lie on the sofa and a bucket was placed on the floor before me so that I would not have to move much should I be forced to make use of it. Holmes then roused Mrs. Hudson none too gently and ordered her to bring us drinking water.
"How bad is it?" my friend asked me when the nausea had finally waned enough for me to sit up.
"I am not concussed," I assured him. "The pain in my head, coupled with the blow that I have taken to my ear, caused me to become dizzy and nauseous."
He frowned at me and gave my face a searching sweep of his eyes. "How can you be so certain? How can I judge for myself?"
"I thought that you trust my skill as a doctor," I mumbled, as confused as I was hurt by his sudden doubt of my abilities.
He grimaced and touched my arm gently. "You know that I do Watson. Your skill as a concussed doctor, however..." he gave my face another sweep of his searching grey eyes; the concern that he felt for me startlingly clear within them.
I stood up and picked my medical bag up from off the floor. Injuries that I had not even noticed until that moment protested but I ignored them all as Holmes had ignored his own. "Were I concussed, I am quite sure that I would not have become so aware of the pain that you are in and I know that I would be quite incapable of tending to you; I would not dare to attempt it. Do you trust my judgement?"
Very much reassured, he smiled and nodded. "I trust you."
I first ensured that there was no serious damage to my friend's leg or foot. Though he gave no word of complaint, I did see him grimace when I touched his ankle.
With a quiet apology I assessed the damage and found that he had a sprain that could only have been made worse by the journey home. "You should not have attempted to walk on this ankle Holmes."
He shrugged with his hands. "I had to get you home."
I tended to his ankle and then took him through to his bedroom to care for his lesser injuries and assist him in readying for bed.
When my work was done, I turned to return my bag to the sitting room and attempt to negotiate the stairs to my own room when my arm was quickly grasped by my companion's long fingers.
"Wait. You should also be tended to old fellow."
Of course I insisted that my own injuries were nothing serious, but Holmes would not be deterred. Every inch of me was checked and he asked countless questions, to which he expected honest answers and information regarding treatment.
When we had finally each tended to the other, I once again helped my friend under his covers, taking as much care with his ankle as I was able. I had every intention of taking myself off to my own room but I was dreadfully tired now that I had stopped and my ear was still ringing and causing me vertigo.
I did not realise that I had fallen asleep in Holmes' room until I awoke the next morning, feeling cold and stiff. I had fallen asleep above his covers clad in my open shirt and trousers, which I had hastily pulled on as I prepared to leave his room the second time. The arm of my friend was wrapped about me and his head was resting at my paining shoulder.
I was about to get up, hoping that I would be able to do so without waking my companion, when he hummed in my ear and gave a yawn, stretching against me in a cat-like manner.
"Ow..." he mumbled with a hiss of pain through his teeth. "Oh, that wretched ankle!"
I licked my lips nervously. He had obviously not noticed that I was on the bed at his side yet, or else he would not have complained about the pain in such a way.
He tensed. "Watson! What the deuce do you think you are doing?"
I shivered and the old wounds in my leg and shoulder protested the action immediately. "I was exhausted Holmes; I must have fallen asleep just as I was about to take myself off to my room."
I felt him relax ever so slightly when I gave another shiver and then he patted my arm. "I very much doubt that you could have reached your room old fellow," he remarked quietly. "You were dreadfully unwell last night. Come through to the sitting room; I perceive that you are shivering."
I reminded him that he should not walk, but he merely asked for his cane and made it quite clear that he would not remain a prisoner in his own bedroom. "We shall both feel better for a warming fire and a good breakfast. Come along Watson."
I was not at all sure that I wanted anything to eat, but I did not tell my companion as much. He happened to be proven right however; the fire banished my chills and breakfast dispersed the remainder of my nausea. The day was spent quietly, with barely any complaint from my friend, as is often the way during the first day or two that Holmes is injured or ill. I have come to know it to be the calm before the storm and so I enjoyed it while it lasted, taking the opportunity to recover as much as was possible in readiness for the battle that I was soon to have on my hands.
"Are you badly hurt Watson?" Holmes asked, his eyes wide and his hands trembling slightly as he assessed the injury to the side of my head and then lifted my head and shoulders from off the cold pavement. We had just received a beating, courtesy of the family of a young ruffian that we had aided Inspector Lestrade in capturing, during a walk home that should have been brief.
I shook my head as he helped me to my feet and instantly regretted it. Perhaps the blow to my ear had done a little more harm than I had realised, for I at once was beset by vertigo and nausea.
I became aware of a hand upon my shoulder and a quiet apology at my uninjured ear. "There were simply too many of them," my companion mumbled.
"It was not your fault Holmes. Come on, it is not far to Baker Street now."
He nodded and flinched ever so slightly when he put his weight upon his right foot. If I did not know him so well I am certain that I would have failed to notice.
"Holmes? Are you all right old chap?"
He nodded and flashed a pained smile at me. "No serious damage done," he assured me.
It proved to be a long walk home, made all the longer by my head injury, which caused me to lean all too heavily on my already limping friend and forced me to stop twice to vomit into the gutter, much to Holmes' distress and concern.
With my companion's promise of cool drinking water to ease my nausea urging me ever onward, I stumbled along at his side. I spoke not at all but my friend did not cease his words of encouragement until we at last reached our sitting room.
I was helped to lie on the sofa and a bucket was placed on the floor before me so that I would not have to move much should I be forced to make use of it. Holmes then roused Mrs. Hudson none too gently and ordered her to bring us drinking water.
"How bad is it?" my friend asked me when the nausea had finally waned enough for me to sit up.
"I am not concussed," I assured him. "The pain in my head, coupled with the blow that I have taken to my ear, caused me to become dizzy and nauseous."
He frowned at me and gave my face a searching sweep of his eyes. "How can you be so certain? How can I judge for myself?"
"I thought that you trust my skill as a doctor," I mumbled, as confused as I was hurt by his sudden doubt of my abilities.
He grimaced and touched my arm gently. "You know that I do Watson. Your skill as a concussed doctor, however..." he gave my face another sweep of his searching grey eyes; the concern that he felt for me startlingly clear within them.
I stood up and picked my medical bag up from off the floor. Injuries that I had not even noticed until that moment protested but I ignored them all as Holmes had ignored his own. "Were I concussed, I am quite sure that I would not have become so aware of the pain that you are in and I know that I would be quite incapable of tending to you; I would not dare to attempt it. Do you trust my judgement?"
Very much reassured, he smiled and nodded. "I trust you."
I first ensured that there was no serious damage to my friend's leg or foot. Though he gave no word of complaint, I did see him grimace when I touched his ankle.
With a quiet apology I assessed the damage and found that he had a sprain that could only have been made worse by the journey home. "You should not have attempted to walk on this ankle Holmes."
He shrugged with his hands. "I had to get you home."
I tended to his ankle and then took him through to his bedroom to care for his lesser injuries and assist him in readying for bed.
When my work was done, I turned to return my bag to the sitting room and attempt to negotiate the stairs to my own room when my arm was quickly grasped by my companion's long fingers.
"Wait. You should also be tended to old fellow."
Of course I insisted that my own injuries were nothing serious, but Holmes would not be deterred. Every inch of me was checked and he asked countless questions, to which he expected honest answers and information regarding treatment.
When we had finally each tended to the other, I once again helped my friend under his covers, taking as much care with his ankle as I was able. I had every intention of taking myself off to my own room but I was dreadfully tired now that I had stopped and my ear was still ringing and causing me vertigo.
I did not realise that I had fallen asleep in Holmes' room until I awoke the next morning, feeling cold and stiff. I had fallen asleep above his covers clad in my open shirt and trousers, which I had hastily pulled on as I prepared to leave his room the second time. The arm of my friend was wrapped about me and his head was resting at my paining shoulder.
I was about to get up, hoping that I would be able to do so without waking my companion, when he hummed in my ear and gave a yawn, stretching against me in a cat-like manner.
"Ow..." he mumbled with a hiss of pain through his teeth. "Oh, that wretched ankle!"
I licked my lips nervously. He had obviously not noticed that I was on the bed at his side yet, or else he would not have complained about the pain in such a way.
He tensed. "Watson! What the deuce do you think you are doing?"
I shivered and the old wounds in my leg and shoulder protested the action immediately. "I was exhausted Holmes; I must have fallen asleep just as I was about to take myself off to my room."
I felt him relax ever so slightly when I gave another shiver and then he patted my arm. "I very much doubt that you could have reached your room old fellow," he remarked quietly. "You were dreadfully unwell last night. Come through to the sitting room; I perceive that you are shivering."
I reminded him that he should not walk, but he merely asked for his cane and made it quite clear that he would not remain a prisoner in his own bedroom. "We shall both feel better for a warming fire and a good breakfast. Come along Watson."
I was not at all sure that I wanted anything to eat, but I did not tell my companion as much. He happened to be proven right however; the fire banished my chills and breakfast dispersed the remainder of my nausea. The day was spent quietly, with barely any complaint from my friend, as is often the way during the first day or two that Holmes is injured or ill. I have come to know it to be the calm before the storm and so I enjoyed it while it lasted, taking the opportunity to recover as much as was possible in readiness for the battle that I was soon to have on my hands.