He'd had a choice, of course. They wouldn't have done it any other way. He had a choice between being shot in the leg twice, being deafened by having his eardrums busted, and getting blinded by a very bright light.
Being shot sounded painful.
Being deaf was horrible.
Being blind, people coped. (Besides, he knew well enough that their threatened way of blinding someone would only leave him temporarily blind.)
So that's what he'd chosen as the large, bungling men came in and insisted he turn over all evidence on the Aluminum Crutch case. And now Anderson was blind.
He didn't know his house as well as he thought he did. That much was obvious when he'd hit himself on the kitchen counter edges. And Sophie wasn't around to help, either. She'd left last week, and he couldn't even work his phone to make a tearful apology over long distance. He missed her. He needed her.
There was no way to get coffee. Not without burning himself. No way to make breakfast, either, so he fumbled around and decided he'd just have a plain slice of bread. As he munched it, the phone rang. He considered not answering, but he wanted someone's company, even if it was some stupid salesman.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you alright? You didn't come in to work this morning." It was Sally. Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. At least it hadn't been Lestrade, telling him that he needed to work a case.
"Not really, no."
"You're still blind? I thought that would wear off in a day."
"So did I."
"'Kay, well, I'll come around in a few minutes. I've got the afternoon off."
—
Sally didn't quite know what she was expecting. She'd never known anyone who had been blinded before. When she rang the doorbell and heard a thud followed by ow, her heart sank. The door opened a few seconds later.
"Sally?" Anderson's eyes were looking through her, and it made her hair stand on end.
"Yeah."
"Come inside." He reached out, waist height, trying not to crash into anything in his small and somewhat messy flat. "Thanks for coming over."
"No problem." She wrapped her arms around him and lightly kissed him. He smiled, realizing that without his sight, his sense of touch was heightened, even in such a small amount of time. "Should I make you something?"
"That would be amazing." He sighed and flopped down into his reclining chair. The smell of the oregano and parsley began to tickle his nose as she made an omelet. She talked about work, about how Holmes had asked them to fill him in on cases again and how this time, Lestrade had refused, prompting him to walk out in a tantrum.
"One day, he's going to lose his temper and hurt someone."
"I'm not even sure he's done everything he says he has," Anderson muttered. Yes, what he had seen of Holmes's work skills were amazing at worst, but everyone exaggerates from time to time. Holmes was bound to be no exception.
"Anyway, here's your breakfast." He felt a warm plate go into his hands and Sally kissing his forehead. "We're gonna work through this, okay?"
"Thanks again."
"You know, anything to help a friend, right?" The warmth in her voice and the touch of her hands to his were just as comforting as the flavours of the food in his mouth.
"Yeah." He swallowed. "Next time, I'll take the bullet to the leg."