Written for the watsons_woes JWP day 20 prompt: A sudden change in the weather. Use this however it inspires you.
Also fills my hc_bingo prompt, "hypothermia"
From time to time, Holmes' cases require multiple avenues of investigation, preferably simultaneously, for timing was often a vital part of the resolution. One such case arose late in the autumn of 1896, having to do with a missing sailor, a series of questionable shipments, and the possibility of uncovering a large smuggling operation involving diamonds from Amsterdam. In this instance, I was able to serve my own part in the pursuit of details, visiting shipping offices and jeweler's shops and meeting with acquaintances of the sailor while Holmes did his inquiries in disguise at the docks.
By the end of the second afternoon of my efforts, I found myself in a good deal of pain, far out of proportion with my activities. Rather than taking tea, I ran a hot bath in an attempt to soothe my aches but left the tub in just as much pain. I resigned myself to an evening spent with my leg stretched out upon the settee, and, for once, hoped that Holmes would not need further assistance.
Holmes made an appearance for dinner, and I could feel his keen eyes watching as I slowly limped to the table (I had not yet resorted to using my cane indoors, but if the distance had been any greater I would have been forced to do so). "I suppose your leg will not allow you to join me at the docks tonight," he said, and I thought I detected a hint of disappointment in his tone.
"I'm afraid not," I agreed. "I am sorry."
"It is out of your control," he said dismissively. "Though I would have appreciated your company and your revolver."
"My revolver is at your disposal, even though I am not," I offered immediately.
Holmes reluctantly agreed, and we conversed on other subjects for the remainder of the meal.
It was still rather warm when Holmes left; it had been unusually warm for several weeks, which was much appreciated by everyone who had been in the city for the severely cold weather the previous winter. I watched him go, clad his lightest coat, and marveled that it could possibly be so temperate this late in November.
I woke in the wee hours of the morning after the small amount of morphine I took had worn off. I was also shivering quite badly beneath my bedclothes, and I realized a rapid shift in the weather must have occurred, bringing us much closer to the typical temperatures for that time of year. Indeed, there was frost upon my windowpane when I ventured forth to fetch my thicker quilt. I confess I was relieved by this revelation, for a sudden change in the weather explained my severe pain quite nicely. I momentarily wondered if Holmes had made it home yet, but I was too cold and too much in pain to go downstairs to find out.
I was roused by Mrs. Hudson several hours later. "Doctor, you must come down at once. Mr. Holmes has been injured."
I rose hurriedly, threw on my dressing gown, and went downstairs as quickly as I could manage. Holmes had been laid out upon the settee and a very tired-looking Lestrade hovered anxiously near his head. "One of our lads found him unconscious in an alley near the docks. He had sent me a telegram just before midnight, but when we arrived to round up the suspects about a half hour later, he was nowhere to be found. The constable only found him when we were nearly finished securing the ships and their cargo," Lestrade explained as I began examining Holmes.
I quickly found a large lump behind his right ear, which seemed likely to be the initial cause of his unconsciousness. Of greater concern to me was the fact that his skin felt cool and he wasn't shivering despite having been out in the much colder weather for some hours. "Mrs. Hudson, please fetch some blankets. Lestrade, would you put more coal on the fire?" I said as I monitored Holmes' pulse and respiration.
Both of them moved into action without hesitation. Soon the room was warming nicely and Holmes was piled under blankets. Mrs. Hudson also brought some towels at my request, which we held before the fire until they were warm and wrapped them around Holmes' head and torso. Hot water bottles were added to Holmes' wrappings after that, and then all we could do was wait. At that point I told Lestrade he ought to go home and get some rest, but he insisted on staying until he was certain Holmes was out of danger. I understood and did not suggest it again.
Holmes' temperature slowly began to recover, but he remained worryingly still and unresponsive for long enough that I began to wonder if he was lost to us-if not in body, at least in mind. It was a disturbing thought that Holmes may never return to his former self.
Lestrade was dozing in my armchair and Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen heating more water-this time, for tea-when Holmes finally flinched and moaned when I tapped on his cheek and called his name. I said his name more loudly and he turned his head slightly in my direction. "Holmes, if you can hear me, open your eyes," I commanded.
Ever so slowly, his eyelids flickered open and Holmes looked straight at me before he closed his eyes again. "Too bright, Watson," he complained.
"I'm sorry, but you have a concussion. Anything will seem too bright."
There was a moment's pause as if he was considering what I said. "Too loud," he said next, and I had to laugh.
"Sorry, old boy, but I can't talk much quieter and still be heard. If I help you sit up, do you think you could drink some tea for me?"
"You can drink your own tea," he grumbled.
"Well, yes, that's true. But you also need to drink some. You are still colder than you should be."
He sighed. "If you insist."
By that point Lestrade was awake and all too happy to help me sit Holmes up. Holmes' head lolled against the back of the settee, still draped in towels and blankets. I tucked the blankets around his shoulders more firmly. Mrs. Hudson conveniently appeared with a pot of tea, and I set about carefully giving it to Holmes.
It was slow going at first, but gradually Holmes seemed to perk up. After two cup's worth, Holmes opened his eyes again and kept them open. "Watson," he said faintly, "I've a terrible headache."
I patted him on the knee. "I know," I said sympathetically. "You took a nasty blow to the head."
"Do you remember that?" Lestrade asked, and Holmes' eyes shifted to him as if noticing him for the first time.
Holmes frowned. "Vaguely. It is difficult to think."
Lestrade nodded and clapped me on the shoulder. "I should leave. If he remembers anything about what happened, I'd be glad to hear it."
"Yes, of course."
After Lestrade's departure, I gave Holmes another cup of tea; the offer of a fourth made him protest that he would float away if he had to drink any more. I did not force him, for the tea he'd already had was doing a marvelous job of nudging up his body temperature closer to the normal range.
By lunchtime Holmes was feeling quite temperamental and demanded to be let up from the cocoon, but I insisted that he remain wrapped up until his temperature had been in the normal range for an hour. After that he wanted to take a nap, since I insisted upon 'swaddling him like a baby', but I reminded him that he had suffered a head injury and should not sleep until I was certain he was acting his normal self (the sulk he lapsed into after that was quite characteristic of him, and definitively removed any concerns I'd had about him not returning to his former self).
Holmes did eventually remember who had attacked him and why-it was related to the case, naturally-and we passed the information to Lestrade; the perpetrator had been among those arrested that night. By some miracle Holmes escaped any frostbite damage to his extremities, so once the bump on his head healed, he was back to normal, much to my relief. Also to my relief, he agreed to my demand that he take a policeman with him to such a situation if I was unable to accompany him; evidently the experience had shaken him more than he wanted to admit, for he never would have made such an accommodation previously.