as always, edited by med_cat, ALL BOW!
When I awoke last Sunday, I had known immediately that I'd been drugged. The night before, Holmes had been insinuating that, because of the wave of influenza sweeping London, I hadn't gotten been getting nearly enough rest. Though his words were true, I found the fact he would even dare speak to me about a lack of rest rather amusing given his own 'sleeping habits'. The argument died soon due to the bottle of fine champagne that my friend had produced, along with two glasses.
I had little more than sniffed the liquid when the world began to tilt in an interesting fashion. I tried to set the glass down, foolishly thinking that the flu had taken hold of me after all, when Holmes' hand joined mine on the glass. "Just a sip, my friend," he murmured.
I hadn't even made it past the first few sips before the world tilted into nothingness.
When I next awoke, I was beyond anger. I attempted to rise from my bed, but my legs were unable to support me. "HOLMES!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. The aforementioned man materialized in the door, as if he had been waiting for my outburst, far more cheery than I'd care for him to be.
"Doctor," he said calmly, "I believe it would be advisable to remain in bed for the remainder of the day. If you have need of the W.C. , I would be glad to lend you a hand."
"Holmes," I growled, "what the Hell did you give me?"
"A sedative of my own design, old boy," he interrupted me as my countenance adopted an angry expression. "I've tested it on Gladstone."
"You poisoned my dog?"
"Our dog."
"The dog! You poisoned the dog?" I attempted to charge him, forgetting how weak I was, and sent myself reeling to the ground. Holmes, quick as ever, lunged for me in the nick of time.
"You had no right! I had patients today, children!" I snarled.
"Collapsing before you reached your surgery wouldn't have done them any good!"
"Who are you to-"
"Now Watson, you're usually the more sensible one of us!" He interrupted sharply.
"I have to work." I stressed, trying to extract myself from his hold.
"That will be considerably harder than you suspect."
"Oh, really?"
"Indeed, Watson. You see, now, you are dressed in your night attire. It is the only attire you currently have access to." Holmes smirked smugly.
"Holmes," I groaned, "tell me you didn't."
"Ah, but Watson, I did." I was led back to my bed, and bullied onto the soft surface. "There is not a single scrap of clothing to make your escape in!" He let out one of his half mad laughs before swooping out of the room, leaving me to fume in solitude.
The drugs kept me weak for three days, but when I did return to my offices, I felt considerably better for my rest.
Not that I'd tell Holmes that.