Hello! Sorry bout the long delay and multiple alerts, either my computer or was going wonky, and it wouldn't let me upload anything. But here is a new 221B drabble! It's very different from my previous stories, much more angst (who doesn't love that!) but I hope you like it all the same!
Disclaimer: Do I own them? If I didn't would I really torture them as much as I do? I would? I do? And I don't own them? Darn!
The Vigil
It was a vigil that had been kept many times before, and would be kept more times after. It was one that had been given and reciprocated, each
time with pain and fear on both sides. The doctor, the detective, each waited on the other. Waited for eyes to open, for pain to cease. Watched for the breath that lifted the ribcage, again, and again. Listened, felt the continued heart beat.
The vigil was always full of memory. Memory of a gunshot, a gasp of pain, of blood covered hands, of fingers that could do naught but stem the bleeding. The worst memory was of a body going limp against their own, leaving them positive that this was the end of their great adventure.
The vigil would be infused with the thought of revenge, of cold revenge on a hated wounder, NOT murderer, not yet. Though the villain may already have been killed, arrested, executed, still the thought: to repay the wounds in full would only be fitting, perhaps would be too merciful.
The vigil was always long, drawn out, endless. The time would pass with the shifts of the nurse, the feeding, cleaning, and wound dressing. The sun had no place in the white corridors. All waited on the awakening.
The vigil ended upon the sigh, the wince, the blink.
Please tell me what you thought! Hope you enjoyed it!