Holmes fic: Warmth
Title: Warmth
Rating: G
Wordcount: 614
Characters: Watson, Holmes (Sim, Tamas)
Summary: The boxcar is cold and Holmes has no coat. (Immediately post-boxcar scene in AGOS)
A/N: Written for my hc_bingo square "cuddling for warmth"
They were going to Switzerland.
It wasn't a surprise, not after the telegram and everything else, but he'd harbored a hope that Holmes' injury would delay the pursuit of Moriarty until Holmes had recovered somewhat. He really should know Holmes better than that by now.
Watson turned his attention back to the wound in Holmes' ankle. It ought to be flushed with water and antiseptic, but all he could do for now was mop away the worst of the blood and put Holmes' boot back on. Proper care would have to wait until Switzerland; he'd already used the meager supplies in his portable kit to tend Holmes' shoulder and his own wound.
Watson mopped away as much blood as he could from the inside of Holmes' boot before trying to put it back on him, an endeavor that went better than expected thanks to Holmes sliding his own foot in.
"You should be asleep," Watson said.
Holmes opened his eyes and lifted his uninjured shoulder in a slight shrug. His eyes were dull with pain or the medication or both and Watson saw him shiver slightly.
Watson cursed himself for an idiot. The drafty boxcar was cold and Holmes would be feeling it the worst thanks to the blood loss, not to mention that he was sitting there in his shirtsleeves. All Watson could offer was his jacket--their coats had been left behind with the horses--but that wouldn't be enough.
He left Holmes for a moment and spoke with Tamas in a low voice. The gypsy assured him they had hours yet before they would need to get off and he and Sim would be on guard against discovery until then.
The boxcar didn't offer anything by way of bedding, only rope nets and empty burlap sacks. Watson cleaned up what he could while he debated what to do. Seeing Sim perched upon a heap of the netting gave him an idea, and he arranged a smaller pile at the front of the car, then covered it with burlap. It was not the most inviting pillow, but both he and Holmes had slept on worse.
Once he'd retrieved his jacket and put his waistcoat back on, he gently shook Holmes' undamaged shoulder.
"'m all right," Holmes slurred, shivering more noticeably.
"That's for me to decide. Now stand up slowly." Watson took Holmes' cold left hand and tugged and Holmes obeyed sluggishly. He staggered against Watson once on his feet and Watson steered him toward the makeshift pillow.
"Lie down and I'll help you warm up," Watson coaxed, awkwardly kneeling as he helped Holmes collapse in the proper direction.
As soon as Holmes was on his left side he curled up, his knees nearly to his chest. Watson placed his jacket over Holmes' chest and arms, then carefully fitted himself against Holmes' back and tucked his legs behind Holmes'. He slipped his right arm under the jacket and placed his hand on Holmes' chest so he could feel its rise and fall as he breathed.
The shivering began to subside within a few minutes. "Now can you sleep?" Watson murmured in Holmes' ear.
"Hm," was Holmes' eloquent reply.
It seemed the true answer was yes, for Holmes' breathing began to deepen a short time later and he relaxed against Watson, who carefully tightened his grip so the jostling of the train would not disturb him.
Despite intending to sleep as well, Watson lay awake for a long time, acutely attentive to the movement of Holmes' chest beneath his hand, fearful it would cease again.
The steady rhythm did not falter. It and the gentle rocking of the train gradually lulled him to sleep.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 614
Characters: Watson, Holmes (Sim, Tamas)
Summary: The boxcar is cold and Holmes has no coat. (Immediately post-boxcar scene in AGOS)
A/N: Written for my hc_bingo square "cuddling for warmth"
They were going to Switzerland.
It wasn't a surprise, not after the telegram and everything else, but he'd harbored a hope that Holmes' injury would delay the pursuit of Moriarty until Holmes had recovered somewhat. He really should know Holmes better than that by now.
Watson turned his attention back to the wound in Holmes' ankle. It ought to be flushed with water and antiseptic, but all he could do for now was mop away the worst of the blood and put Holmes' boot back on. Proper care would have to wait until Switzerland; he'd already used the meager supplies in his portable kit to tend Holmes' shoulder and his own wound.
Watson mopped away as much blood as he could from the inside of Holmes' boot before trying to put it back on him, an endeavor that went better than expected thanks to Holmes sliding his own foot in.
"You should be asleep," Watson said.
Holmes opened his eyes and lifted his uninjured shoulder in a slight shrug. His eyes were dull with pain or the medication or both and Watson saw him shiver slightly.
Watson cursed himself for an idiot. The drafty boxcar was cold and Holmes would be feeling it the worst thanks to the blood loss, not to mention that he was sitting there in his shirtsleeves. All Watson could offer was his jacket--their coats had been left behind with the horses--but that wouldn't be enough.
He left Holmes for a moment and spoke with Tamas in a low voice. The gypsy assured him they had hours yet before they would need to get off and he and Sim would be on guard against discovery until then.
The boxcar didn't offer anything by way of bedding, only rope nets and empty burlap sacks. Watson cleaned up what he could while he debated what to do. Seeing Sim perched upon a heap of the netting gave him an idea, and he arranged a smaller pile at the front of the car, then covered it with burlap. It was not the most inviting pillow, but both he and Holmes had slept on worse.
Once he'd retrieved his jacket and put his waistcoat back on, he gently shook Holmes' undamaged shoulder.
"'m all right," Holmes slurred, shivering more noticeably.
"That's for me to decide. Now stand up slowly." Watson took Holmes' cold left hand and tugged and Holmes obeyed sluggishly. He staggered against Watson once on his feet and Watson steered him toward the makeshift pillow.
"Lie down and I'll help you warm up," Watson coaxed, awkwardly kneeling as he helped Holmes collapse in the proper direction.
As soon as Holmes was on his left side he curled up, his knees nearly to his chest. Watson placed his jacket over Holmes' chest and arms, then carefully fitted himself against Holmes' back and tucked his legs behind Holmes'. He slipped his right arm under the jacket and placed his hand on Holmes' chest so he could feel its rise and fall as he breathed.
The shivering began to subside within a few minutes. "Now can you sleep?" Watson murmured in Holmes' ear.
"Hm," was Holmes' eloquent reply.
It seemed the true answer was yes, for Holmes' breathing began to deepen a short time later and he relaxed against Watson, who carefully tightened his grip so the jostling of the train would not disturb him.
Despite intending to sleep as well, Watson lay awake for a long time, acutely attentive to the movement of Holmes' chest beneath his hand, fearful it would cease again.
The steady rhythm did not falter. It and the gentle rocking of the train gradually lulled him to sleep.