Reveries
It was a hot and humid day sometime in the month of August in the year 1881. Watson sat with his leg propped up in front of him. There was a dull ache in his leg and one in his shoulder to match. He held a yellow-backed novel in his hands and was attempting to distract himself, but the pain was too much. Dropping the novel, he sighed and fell into a brown study, staring at his leg. The ache brought back memories of the first pain of the jezail bullet entering his leg.
He could remember it so clearly. The sun was beating down on the hot plains of Afghanistan as he walked among the fallen his medical kit in hand. As he was ordering a man onto a stretcher to be taken to the hospital tent, there was a sharp pang in his leg and his orderly cried out. He couldn't afford to go unconscious now; he had to ignore the pain. With force of will, he continued on only pausing to tie a kerchief around his leg to staunch the bleeding as he continued to tend to the wounded. Shots were fired all around, some nearly missing him –
Bang!
Watson leapt from his armchair and ducked under his desk, the nearest cover, his mind still on the field of battle as more explosions followed from across the room. His breathing came faster, and he clutched his leg, feeling the blood gushing once more. His mind was in a haze as he thought he heard Murray shouting.
"Watson! Watson, are you alright?"
Whose voice was that? It didn't sound like Murray. Watson clutched his leg as it throbbed painfully. His mind slowly cleared and he realized with painful embarrassment where he was. Holmes was kneeling near him with a concerned look on his face.
"Doctor, are you alright? Did something happen? I'm sorry I was caught up in an experiment, I didn't notice..."
"I am fine," Watson said stiffly, making his way out from under the desk. He walked out of the sitting room with a very pronounced limp and made his way up the stairs.
Holmes looked after him with a puzzled look. What had disturbed his fellow lodger? He hadn't noticed anything, but then, that test for checking if something is diluted had been very absorbing, especially seeing how the two liquids reacted in a small explosion when one had been diluted with water.
Holmes awoke suddenly unsure of what had awakened him. Then he heard it: a moan from upstairs. He dashed up the stairs, taking two at a time. He flung open the door to he fellow lodger's room. Watson lay on his bed, thrashing about and moaning. He was clearly in the grip of some nightmare.
He felt so hot, sweat was pouring down his back. His leg! Oh, his leg was burning. Water, he needed water...
Holmes debated with himself whether or not to wake the man. Surely it couldn't be good for the doctor if he stayed in his nightmare. Holmes strode over to the bed and whispered, "Doctor Watson?"
Watson sat up suddenly, startling Holmes. His eyes took in his surroundings. "Is anything the matter, Holmes?"
"No, no, I just came up to check if you were alright."
Watson remembered his nightmare. Had he cried aloud as he dreamed of his fever? His face burned with embarrassment. "I am fine. It was nothing."
Holmes nodded, and made to leave the room but turned to face Watson again. "Was it a nightmare?"
"Yes," Watson answered, and then continued softly to himself as Holmes turned around once again. "The memories never leave."
Holmes caught the whispered words. The afternoon's events that had puzzled him suddenly became clear.
A big, huge thank you to KCS for betareading this! And sorry about focusing on the aches, I hurt my neck badly yesterday, and I'm afraid that that's all that I can think about ;) Thanks for reading - now review! Even if you hate the story. I just want to know that you read it. :D