Revelation
A Sherlock Holmes snippet by Deana Lisi
My turn to submit an entry for the 'Three Garridebs' challenge! You'll get no disclaimer from me since SH belongs to the public domain now, so a disclaimer is unnecessary! Yay!
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"Well, well!" said Evans, as he scrambled to the surface. "I guess you have been one too many for me, Mr. Holmes. Saw through my game, I suppose, and played me for a sucker from the first. Well, sir, I hand it to you; you have me beat and—"
In an instant he whisked out a revolver from his coat and fired two shots. An incredible pain and flash of light invaded my vision, and I barely heard the scuffle that took place immediately after. What could have been minutes or hours later, a voice suddenly interrupted the ringing through my skull, and I felt a hand frantically touching the side of my head.
"Watson!" said the voice, which was shaking so badly that I could not recognize it in my wounded state. "Watson! Open your eyes!"
The pleading in the tone was unmistakable, and somehow, I obeyed. I found myself lying on the floor, with a sticky substance dripping down the side of my face.
"Watson!" the voice said again, and through a haze of confusion, I finally recognized it.
Holmes.
Looking up, I found my friend bent over me, using his handkerchief in an attempt to slow the bleeding. His eyes were dimmed and his lips were shaking, his eyes alight with fear.
"Watson?!" he said again, sounding more frenzied than I had ever heard.
"Holmes…" I finally managed to say, before closing my eyes as another sickening wave of dizziness took hold of my senses. "What…happened?"
Holmes took a ragged breath, apparently from relief at hearing me speak. He looked terribly pale, from the fright at thinking me mortally wounded. "The bullet sliced along the right side of your…your skull," he informed me, uncharacteristically stumbling over the words.
At his words, a chill shot down my spine. I would have been killed if I'd been standing an inch more to the right. I reopened my eyes and looked up at Holmes, only to find that he'd suddenly acquired a twin.
I was seeing double. Wonderful.
"Is it safe to move you?" Holmes asked, still sounding shaken, but not as badly, since it was obvious that I was not dying.
I knew that I was concussed, and I could see that Holmes' handkerchief was completely sodden with blood. Dizziness assailed me again and I re-closed my eyes.
"Watson?" I heard again, though it seemed far away. A hand shook my arm and I reopened my eyes again, realizing that I had not answered his question.
"Come," said Holmes. "We must get you home."
The next few minutes were a memory that I hope never to experience again. Holmes pulled me to my feet, resulting in doubling the agony that pulsed through my skull, and increasing the dizziness to such an extent that I immediately slid towards the floor again, unable to remain standing. I felt my friend's wiry arms tighten around me, and he slowly led me from the room.
I have difficulty recalling the rest of the night. I remember Holmes shouting for a cab, but I must have lost consciousness during the ride back to Baker Street, for the next words that I heard him utter were the name of our landlady. Holmes later told me that the sight of him holding me up on the doorstep, with blood spilling down my face, had nearly sent her into heart failure.
The days that followed were spent in a painful haze, but thankfully, my recovery was met without complication. Killer Evans was arrested for attempted murder, and subsequently died after a prison brawl.
Despite the serious injury that I acquired during this case, it will partly be remembered as a fond memory; I decided that it was worth the wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind Holmes' cold mask. I had caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.
The End