Holmes fic: Starved
Woke up this morning thinking about this prompt, so I wrote something for it.
Title: Starved
Rating: G
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade
Wordcount: 633
Summary: Holmes doesn't care for himself as well now that Watson has left.
A/N: Written for the shkinkmeme prompt: Victorian!era Holmes doesn't eat now that Watson isn't there to force him to. He collapses or something and Watson is horrified at his state and thinness.
Fills my hc_bingo square for "Side effects."
"He just collapsed, Doctor. I don't know what's wrong," Lestrade said as he escorted Dr. Watson to his office.
Holmes was sitting in a chair by Lestrade's desk, seemingly unharmed though appearing less than fully alert.
"Is there any tea to be had?"
"Yes, I'll fetch some."
Watson shut the door almost completely in Lestrade's absence and quickly assessed Holmes' condition, concluding he was exhausted and had not been eating enough. Given that he had been on a case, neither was a surprise, though he looked more worn and much thinner -almost gaunt- than any one case could explain.
Lestrade returned with three cups of tea. Watson handed one to Holmes and turned to Lestrade. "You have what you need from him?"
"Yes, quite."
"Good. Holmes, drink that, then we're leaving."
Holmes didn't try to argue until they were in a cab bound for Baker Street. "It was a momentary lapse, I will be fine."
"You fainted because you haven't been eating. You are not fine."
"You are well aware that I do not eat during cases."
Watson grabbed Holmes' forearm and squeezed, feeling the bones all too clearly through Holmes' clothing. "This is not just the result of one case, this is habitual neglect. Now tell me: if I were to ask Mrs. Hudson about your meals, what would she say?"
Holmes avoided his gaze and reluctantly replied, "She would say I have been taking most meals away from home."
"And if I stopped by our usual restaurants, what would they say?"
Holmes' response almost wasn't audible over the rattling of the cab. "They have not seen me in some time."
Watson sighed heavily, but did not pursue the conversation any further until they were settled in Holmes' sitting room in their usual chairs. "Why, Holmes? Mrs. Hudson will make or obtain anything you might wish to have, so why aren't you eating?"
"I do not think about meals when I am preoccupied. Eating alone is unpleasant. I have never particularly cared for the chore, so I only force myself to do so when it is absolutely necessary."
Watson considered Holmes' responses for a time, contemplating how Holmes seemed lost within his own clothing. "Would you at least agree that continuing in this manner will put your health in jeopardy? Or at least your income? You cannot accept cases if you cannot be certain you will resolve them without collapsing."
Holmes lit his pipe -his fingers were quivering just enough for Watson to notice- and ran a hand through his hair. "That is a reasonable conclusion."
"So how can we fix this? What will induce you to eat on a more regular basis?"
The questions hung over them, a looming presence in the silence Watson left for Holmes and which Holmes refused to fill.
"Mary and I would welcome you at any meal so you needn't eat alone," Watson said finally when it was clear Holmes was not going to speak. "We could expect you at least once a week, if that would help."
Holmes hesitantly assented.
"I'm sure your brother would welcome you at his table, as well," Watson ventured, and was amused by the face Holmes made at the suggestion.
"And I would not be able to eat again for a week after," Holmes said with a snort.
Watson grinned. "That may be true," he conceded. "Mary and I will have you to dinner once a week, then. And in the meantime, will you promise to try to eat at least once a day? I know you get involved in your pursuits, but I think that's an acceptable number."
Holmes mulled this over, then nodded slowly. "I will try," he said.
"Splendid, you can start now," Watson said immediately, rising from his chair. "Here comes Mrs. Hudson with our dinner."
Title: Starved
Rating: G
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade
Wordcount: 633
Summary: Holmes doesn't care for himself as well now that Watson has left.
A/N: Written for the shkinkmeme prompt: Victorian!era Holmes doesn't eat now that Watson isn't there to force him to. He collapses or something and Watson is horrified at his state and thinness.
Fills my hc_bingo square for "Side effects."
"He just collapsed, Doctor. I don't know what's wrong," Lestrade said as he escorted Dr. Watson to his office.
Holmes was sitting in a chair by Lestrade's desk, seemingly unharmed though appearing less than fully alert.
"Is there any tea to be had?"
"Yes, I'll fetch some."
Watson shut the door almost completely in Lestrade's absence and quickly assessed Holmes' condition, concluding he was exhausted and had not been eating enough. Given that he had been on a case, neither was a surprise, though he looked more worn and much thinner -almost gaunt- than any one case could explain.
Lestrade returned with three cups of tea. Watson handed one to Holmes and turned to Lestrade. "You have what you need from him?"
"Yes, quite."
"Good. Holmes, drink that, then we're leaving."
Holmes didn't try to argue until they were in a cab bound for Baker Street. "It was a momentary lapse, I will be fine."
"You fainted because you haven't been eating. You are not fine."
"You are well aware that I do not eat during cases."
Watson grabbed Holmes' forearm and squeezed, feeling the bones all too clearly through Holmes' clothing. "This is not just the result of one case, this is habitual neglect. Now tell me: if I were to ask Mrs. Hudson about your meals, what would she say?"
Holmes avoided his gaze and reluctantly replied, "She would say I have been taking most meals away from home."
"And if I stopped by our usual restaurants, what would they say?"
Holmes' response almost wasn't audible over the rattling of the cab. "They have not seen me in some time."
Watson sighed heavily, but did not pursue the conversation any further until they were settled in Holmes' sitting room in their usual chairs. "Why, Holmes? Mrs. Hudson will make or obtain anything you might wish to have, so why aren't you eating?"
"I do not think about meals when I am preoccupied. Eating alone is unpleasant. I have never particularly cared for the chore, so I only force myself to do so when it is absolutely necessary."
Watson considered Holmes' responses for a time, contemplating how Holmes seemed lost within his own clothing. "Would you at least agree that continuing in this manner will put your health in jeopardy? Or at least your income? You cannot accept cases if you cannot be certain you will resolve them without collapsing."
Holmes lit his pipe -his fingers were quivering just enough for Watson to notice- and ran a hand through his hair. "That is a reasonable conclusion."
"So how can we fix this? What will induce you to eat on a more regular basis?"
The questions hung over them, a looming presence in the silence Watson left for Holmes and which Holmes refused to fill.
"Mary and I would welcome you at any meal so you needn't eat alone," Watson said finally when it was clear Holmes was not going to speak. "We could expect you at least once a week, if that would help."
Holmes hesitantly assented.
"I'm sure your brother would welcome you at his table, as well," Watson ventured, and was amused by the face Holmes made at the suggestion.
"And I would not be able to eat again for a week after," Holmes said with a snort.
Watson grinned. "That may be true," he conceded. "Mary and I will have you to dinner once a week, then. And in the meantime, will you promise to try to eat at least once a day? I know you get involved in your pursuits, but I think that's an acceptable number."
Holmes mulled this over, then nodded slowly. "I will try," he said.
"Splendid, you can start now," Watson said immediately, rising from his chair. "Here comes Mrs. Hudson with our dinner."