Back to Bakerstreet 11/?
Fic: Back To Baker Street
Chapter 11: Leeches and Things
Author:ShellyStark
Rating: T
Pairing: Holmes/OC
Summary: Sequel for Into the Wall (helps if you read that first)
Samantha returns to Holmes in his own time. With talk of Mycroft paying his younger brother a visit in need of his help on a case.
Leeches and Things
It seemed to take forever. With nothing but a bowl of water and a few scrap cloths to clean myself off with. The water was quickly turned pink with Sherlock's blood and even the rocks I had dug from his skin had begun to settle in my own. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I plucked another piece of gravel out of my palm.
He could have died Samantha.
"Oh, there you are, I almost forgotten about my problems," I mocked at my thoughts.
Just stating the truth, and while offended, at least you realize you're talking to yourself.
"I don't know what I'm talking to anymore," I sighed, letting the cloth flutter down to the bottom of the bowl. Yes, I suppose I was right, he could have died, but it wouldn't be completely my fault, would it have?
Yes.
"Shut up, he wanted to do this in the first place." Of course it wasn't my fault, but he risked himself for me, that was something that wasn't gong to happen again. It couldn't.
And how exactly are you going to do that?
"I thought I told you to hush!" I scolded the restless voice inside my head. "I have no idea," I sighed. I dumped the dirty water out the window and slipped the dress that was laid out for me over my head, and attempted to smooth my hair into some sort of braid. I at least did my part to try to fit in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I was just starting to make myself comfortable when the yelling started.
"Damnit, woman, let me be," Sherlock's un-amused voice poured through the walls.
"Mr. Holmes, If I could just," a frustrated woman's voice replied; clearly Mary, and what was clearly some sort of scuffle
"No, madam," he paused and did god only knows what. "you may not!"
There was a crash and a several huffs of air.
"Oh, now look what you have done," came Mary's voice followed by some more clattering.
"Me? I assure you, madam, that, was not my fault," Sherlock's now fully annoyed tone retorted.
I made it a point to quickly compose myself and wander into the adjacent room. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing. Really, it shouldn't have been funny, it probably wouldn't have been if it were someone else. Sherlock was teetering on the corner of the bed with one arm pushed through the sleeve of a fresh shirt and one leg in a new pair of pants. The bowl of water was now over turned and on the floor, the dripping rag draped over Mary's hand, and both of their heads sopping wet.
"I'm not even going to try to make sense of this," I said inwardly, staring up at the ceiling.
"Very well," Mary huffed. "I, for one, am leaving. Good day Mr. Holmes, Samantha." She nodded in each of our directions and left with armfus of dirty linen and the old bowl.
"You know, Sherlock, you could at least attempt to be civil," I chuckled as I made my way to his bedside. He had already pulled his other arm through the shirt and was hopping the rest of the way into the clean pants.
"That woman, was…was…was," he stammered.
"Was trying to help," I finished calmly. "Besides that was Mary-"
"Yes, yes, Mary Allerdice, I know," he grumbled.
"Of course you do," I muttered under my breath.
"As if her speech wasn't enough, the way she carries herself has a certain distinction to it," he rambled on.
"Mmmhmm,"
"And her hands aren't as worn as you would expect a woman of this time to be. With all the extra work they have to do, her hands are worn but far less so."
"I knew it wouldn't take you long, that's why I didn't tell you in the first place," I said softly with a lopsided grin.
"Naturally, her recognition of me also helped," he smirked.
I lightly swatted his leg. "You are such a pompous ass, Sherlock Holmes," I laughed.
"Mmm pompous, I think that is Watson's favorite," he said mindlessly, but with a grin.
"It's fitting. Did you get any rest?" I asked
"No," he replied shortly, gazing out the window.
"Then, now that you're all sorted, I'll leave." I stopped and glanced his way.
He held my gaze for a few moments in silence.
"So you can rest." I finished with a halfhearted smile.
"No," he repeated while shaking his head. "I'll get no rest whether you are here or not, and I'd rather you are," he paused.
Feelings may not have been his greatest strength, but he did try, I'll give him that.
"Here that is," he finished and went on to break away from my look. I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.
"All right," I agreed quietly.
He turned and looked at me; a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Samantha," he said before turning away again.
At least I wouldn't have to sit and wait for a doctor to come and bandage him up properly alone, even if he was apparently going to spend the next few days being a little stand off-ish. Not that I expected anything different from him.
The doctor showed up, eventually, I think his name was Merek; a small older man with pointy features and a balding head. He confirmed my suspicions of Sherlock bruising his leg bone and then suggested something along the lines of leeching.
"Leeching?" I swear Sherlock's ears perked up as he poured all his attention on the doctor. "Now that is worth attempting," he suggested wiggling his eyebrows.
"That won't be necessary," I piped in pushing the small man out the door, "fare the well," I said cheerily.
"If thou shalt change thou's mind-"he tried, digging his heels into the wooden floor boards.
"No, no, no," I kept pushing.
"Well, If you think it will help," Sherlock began, making his way to the edge of the bed.
"Mayhap, if thee-" Merek began.
"Nay!" I shouted and pushed the doctor out and shut the door behind securely behind him.
"Come now, Samantha. He was only attempting to help," Sherlock Mocked.
I rolled my eyes in response. "You heard him, he agreed, stay put for a few days, don't try to get up."
"Hmm, and you, my dear? How are your own injuries?" He asked, as if he wasn't even listing to a single word I said.
"Fine," I replied.
Truth is I hadn't even thought about them. My gash was all but healed and the stitches were nothing but string and a constant itch on my arm and my ribs had been subdued to a dull ache. I assumed they were still bruised, but I hadn't exactly looked at them recently, I suppose I could have Mary take a look, but what would she do? Nothing that I couldn't do on my own.
Three days passed terribly slowly. Sherlock was so restless, much more than I had ever seen. Since there was no pacing to be done he drummed the side of the bed rail almost the entire time., leaving me no choice but to leave during the day to save my own sanity. There was no way I was spending the day watching him talk to himself while stuck in that bed.
Even if I often did the same thing.
I would spend my days in the barn with the horses or help Mary with her daily chores and tried to get some information out of her. She knew nothing, as I thought she would. She couldn't remember a thing; she only remembered vaguely coming through and being pulled away to safety by Addison on horseback, similar as to what he did with me. How often was he riding out to see if girls came through, or as he saw it appeared out of a giant tree in the middle of the forest?
The night was always the same. I'd curl into his good side and he would breathe me in before placing a soft kiss to the top of my head and I quickly succored to sleep's call. If he actually slept of not, I'll never know, he was always awake when I crawled into the bed and awake staring at me with those dark eyes when I woke up.
A/N: yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I am still loving these two, they are my guilty pleasure even if I don't use them much. Just stick with me yea? And don't forget to let me know you are enjoying!
Chapter 11: Leeches and Things
Author:ShellyStark
Rating: T
Pairing: Holmes/OC
Summary: Sequel for Into the Wall (helps if you read that first)
Samantha returns to Holmes in his own time. With talk of Mycroft paying his younger brother a visit in need of his help on a case.
Leeches and Things
It seemed to take forever. With nothing but a bowl of water and a few scrap cloths to clean myself off with. The water was quickly turned pink with Sherlock's blood and even the rocks I had dug from his skin had begun to settle in my own. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I plucked another piece of gravel out of my palm.
He could have died Samantha.
"Oh, there you are, I almost forgotten about my problems," I mocked at my thoughts.
Just stating the truth, and while offended, at least you realize you're talking to yourself.
"I don't know what I'm talking to anymore," I sighed, letting the cloth flutter down to the bottom of the bowl. Yes, I suppose I was right, he could have died, but it wouldn't be completely my fault, would it have?
Yes.
"Shut up, he wanted to do this in the first place." Of course it wasn't my fault, but he risked himself for me, that was something that wasn't gong to happen again. It couldn't.
And how exactly are you going to do that?
"I thought I told you to hush!" I scolded the restless voice inside my head. "I have no idea," I sighed. I dumped the dirty water out the window and slipped the dress that was laid out for me over my head, and attempted to smooth my hair into some sort of braid. I at least did my part to try to fit in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I was just starting to make myself comfortable when the yelling started.
"Damnit, woman, let me be," Sherlock's un-amused voice poured through the walls.
"Mr. Holmes, If I could just," a frustrated woman's voice replied; clearly Mary, and what was clearly some sort of scuffle
"No, madam," he paused and did god only knows what. "you may not!"
There was a crash and a several huffs of air.
"Oh, now look what you have done," came Mary's voice followed by some more clattering.
"Me? I assure you, madam, that, was not my fault," Sherlock's now fully annoyed tone retorted.
I made it a point to quickly compose myself and wander into the adjacent room. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing. Really, it shouldn't have been funny, it probably wouldn't have been if it were someone else. Sherlock was teetering on the corner of the bed with one arm pushed through the sleeve of a fresh shirt and one leg in a new pair of pants. The bowl of water was now over turned and on the floor, the dripping rag draped over Mary's hand, and both of their heads sopping wet.
"I'm not even going to try to make sense of this," I said inwardly, staring up at the ceiling.
"Very well," Mary huffed. "I, for one, am leaving. Good day Mr. Holmes, Samantha." She nodded in each of our directions and left with armfus of dirty linen and the old bowl.
"You know, Sherlock, you could at least attempt to be civil," I chuckled as I made my way to his bedside. He had already pulled his other arm through the shirt and was hopping the rest of the way into the clean pants.
"That woman, was…was…was," he stammered.
"Was trying to help," I finished calmly. "Besides that was Mary-"
"Yes, yes, Mary Allerdice, I know," he grumbled.
"Of course you do," I muttered under my breath.
"As if her speech wasn't enough, the way she carries herself has a certain distinction to it," he rambled on.
"Mmmhmm,"
"And her hands aren't as worn as you would expect a woman of this time to be. With all the extra work they have to do, her hands are worn but far less so."
"I knew it wouldn't take you long, that's why I didn't tell you in the first place," I said softly with a lopsided grin.
"Naturally, her recognition of me also helped," he smirked.
I lightly swatted his leg. "You are such a pompous ass, Sherlock Holmes," I laughed.
"Mmm pompous, I think that is Watson's favorite," he said mindlessly, but with a grin.
"It's fitting. Did you get any rest?" I asked
"No," he replied shortly, gazing out the window.
"Then, now that you're all sorted, I'll leave." I stopped and glanced his way.
He held my gaze for a few moments in silence.
"So you can rest." I finished with a halfhearted smile.
"No," he repeated while shaking his head. "I'll get no rest whether you are here or not, and I'd rather you are," he paused.
Feelings may not have been his greatest strength, but he did try, I'll give him that.
"Here that is," he finished and went on to break away from my look. I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.
"All right," I agreed quietly.
He turned and looked at me; a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Samantha," he said before turning away again.
At least I wouldn't have to sit and wait for a doctor to come and bandage him up properly alone, even if he was apparently going to spend the next few days being a little stand off-ish. Not that I expected anything different from him.
The doctor showed up, eventually, I think his name was Merek; a small older man with pointy features and a balding head. He confirmed my suspicions of Sherlock bruising his leg bone and then suggested something along the lines of leeching.
"Leeching?" I swear Sherlock's ears perked up as he poured all his attention on the doctor. "Now that is worth attempting," he suggested wiggling his eyebrows.
"That won't be necessary," I piped in pushing the small man out the door, "fare the well," I said cheerily.
"If thou shalt change thou's mind-"he tried, digging his heels into the wooden floor boards.
"No, no, no," I kept pushing.
"Well, If you think it will help," Sherlock began, making his way to the edge of the bed.
"Mayhap, if thee-" Merek began.
"Nay!" I shouted and pushed the doctor out and shut the door behind securely behind him.
"Come now, Samantha. He was only attempting to help," Sherlock Mocked.
I rolled my eyes in response. "You heard him, he agreed, stay put for a few days, don't try to get up."
"Hmm, and you, my dear? How are your own injuries?" He asked, as if he wasn't even listing to a single word I said.
"Fine," I replied.
Truth is I hadn't even thought about them. My gash was all but healed and the stitches were nothing but string and a constant itch on my arm and my ribs had been subdued to a dull ache. I assumed they were still bruised, but I hadn't exactly looked at them recently, I suppose I could have Mary take a look, but what would she do? Nothing that I couldn't do on my own.
Three days passed terribly slowly. Sherlock was so restless, much more than I had ever seen. Since there was no pacing to be done he drummed the side of the bed rail almost the entire time., leaving me no choice but to leave during the day to save my own sanity. There was no way I was spending the day watching him talk to himself while stuck in that bed.
Even if I often did the same thing.
I would spend my days in the barn with the horses or help Mary with her daily chores and tried to get some information out of her. She knew nothing, as I thought she would. She couldn't remember a thing; she only remembered vaguely coming through and being pulled away to safety by Addison on horseback, similar as to what he did with me. How often was he riding out to see if girls came through, or as he saw it appeared out of a giant tree in the middle of the forest?
The night was always the same. I'd curl into his good side and he would breathe me in before placing a soft kiss to the top of my head and I quickly succored to sleep's call. If he actually slept of not, I'll never know, he was always awake when I crawled into the bed and awake staring at me with those dark eyes when I woke up.
A/N: yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I am still loving these two, they are my guilty pleasure even if I don't use them much. Just stick with me yea? And don't forget to let me know you are enjoying!