A/N: This turned into a weird, fluffy… thing. It was originally supposed to be a more serious fic about Holmes seriously injuring himself, but it changed. Hope you enjoy.
"Holmes, where are you going?"
The thin man paused by the door, leaning upon the wall with one hand. He had tried to be discreet. Evidently it had failed.
"I'm going into town to conduct some very important business. Don't wait up on me, I won't return until at least four this evening."
"Holmes-"
"Watson?" he asked, turning to face the doctor standing a few meters behind him.
"You really shouldn't."
"Has that ever stopped me in the past?" the detective inquired, "You needn't worry, my dear Watson, I'm as right as a trivet."
"Is that so?"
"Why would I tell you differently?"
Watson stared at his companion. "I'm coming with you."
"That's very kind, but rather unnecessary, I'm afraid. I'd rather prefer I go alone today, old chap."
"Holmes, who do you think you're fooling?"
"I was hoping it was you," he replied.
"If you go about walking on that ankle all day you're only going to make it worse."
"I won't be gone all day, just a few hours."
"Holmes."
"Watson!"
The doctor let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Go, make it worse. Be in pain."
"Thank you. I'll be on my way then."
Both men stood motionless.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Aren't you going?"
"Yes."
"Well, go then,"
"Alright."
Neither of them moved.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you to let me leave."
"Holmes, can you walk?"
"...no," said the great detective. "I could if I wanted to, but if I tried you would surely stop me before I reached the door."
"Let me help you get back into the sitting room. We need to elevate your ankle and get you some rest," Watson told him, seemingly satisfied. He strode towards Holmes and put his arm around the thin man's shoulders.
"Do you mind?" snapped Holmes, flinching at Watson's touch. "I am perfectly capable of doing this myself, thank you. Just give me a moment."
"You just told me you couldn't walk."
"I meant that I couldn't walk around town all day. And if I tried, you would stop me. I can do this."
"Holmes, your ankle is badly sprained. You need to let me help. You shouldn't have even walked over here by yourself."
Holmes looked Watson in the eye. "You're not going to let me do this, are you?"
"No,"
He sighed. "Fine. You may help me to the sitting room,"
"Thank you," replied Watson, replacing his arm around Holmes' shoulders. The crippled man attempted to take a step, but tightly clutched Watson's shirt when his ankle buckled under his weight. The two limped awkwardly to the settee, where Holmes sat, putting his injured limb upon the table beside it.
"Are you happy?" he asked with a grimace. "Now everything I had planned for today must be postponed. I'll have you know that there was some vitally important business I was to attend to today."
"I'm sorry I cared enough to keep you from worsening your injury. If you keep off it, it will heal faster."
"Nonsense. It needs to be stretched."
"Holmes, just promise me you'll allow yourself one day of rest. For the both of us."
The two men looked at each other, one concerned, the other irritated.
"Alright."