Disclaimer: I do not own Holmes, Watson or 221Baker Street. However i do have fun borrowing them for a while!!

Author's Note: I wrote this whilst in hospital recovering from surgery!. This story has also been submitted to the latest Live Journal Community Watson's Woes challenge compettion. However i may well extend the story :)

My Brother, My Boswell

"Blessed is the servant who loves his brother as much when he is sick and useless as when he is well and be of service to him. And blessed is he who loves his brother as well as when he is afar off as when he is by his side…"

St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226)

Like a heavy weight pressing down on me, I fight against the fogginess that ties me down. Slowly I open my eyes and shun the brightness that greets me. As I let out a soft moan, and then hear a familiar voice close to me.

"Watson, it's alright, I'm here. No one will harm you I promise you."

Holmes's voice quivered with emotion. He was ashen faced and dark rings told their own story.

"Holmes, what happened, I-"

Watson gasped as a spear of white hot pain lanced his entire body Holmes gripped Watson's hand, holding it tightly until the spasms stopped. He sank back against his pillows exhausted and trying unsuccessfully to mask his pain. Holmes looked at his friend in concern and spoke softly

"Watson, can you hear me old chap? I need to tell you something".

Watson opened his eyes slowly and looked into the slate grey green eyes of his friend. Watson had never seen Holmes afraid before, but now he saw the reflection of fear in Holmes's eyes and that frightened him.

"Holmes, what's wrong? Asked Watson with trepidation.

Holmes's grip on Watson's hand tightened and he pulled his chair closer to Watson.

"Watson, last night, do you remember what happened?"

Watson furrowed his eyebrows in concentration trying to piece tog tether the hazy jigsaw of the previous night.

"Holmes, we were being chased. There was one, no two men after us…a robbery? Yes that's it I remember, the Chevron Brothers. There was a gunshot, I fell".

Holmes nodded in agreement and spoke softly

"Watson I am so sorry, I have to tell you, I-"

Holmes voice broke and Watson laid his other hand on Holmes's arm.

"Holmes, what is it? It's alright. I am well, let me help you".

Holmes rubbed his tired eyes and smiled sadly.

"No Watson, you are not alright…the bullet hit your main artery, the blood was everywhere. I tried to stop the bleeding, there was so much, you were dying Watson, and I carried you in my arms. The doctor, he-"

Holmes voice broke, struggling to continue .Watson swallowed hard, knowing something had happened to make Holmes so distraught, and wished fervently that he did not have to hear this, but he knew he must.

"Holmes, it's alright, you can tell me" encouraged Watson gently.

Holmes looked at his Boswell, so trusting. His eyes were already shining with forgiveness. He inhaled deeply and looked straight into Watson's eyes.

"Watson, they could not stop the bleeding, they tried everything, but your leg was so badly damaged. They had no choice Watson. I'm so sorry, but they had to amputate your left leg".

Watson felt his head spin and the colour drained from his face as his world fell apart. My leg? But I can still feel it. Impossible! Holmes must be mistaken. But it was no mistake. Watson looked up to see Holmes with his face in his hands. His whole body trembled. Tears formed in Watson's eyes, and he tried to fight past the lump in his throat.

"Holmes" whispered Watson.

Holmes did not respond.

"HOLMES" cried Watson, this time with a ring of authority that Holmes could not ignore.

Holmes looked up and met glistening hazel eyes.

"Holmes, it's alright. Do not berate yourself. I may have lost a leg, but I'll get through this. The Agency has not lost its partner and I have not lost you. I could not face that. That's all that matters".

Watson shuddered as the memories of past nightmares that had haunted him for so many nights came rushing back like the torrential waterfall that had been Reichenbach Falls. He could never fully lose that image of Holmes falling endlessly into the watery abyss. He felt a wiry hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle.

"I too would be lost without my Boswell". Said Holmes with a gentleness that Watson rarely heard from his friend.

Watson smiled, they had a difficult journey ahead of them, their road would be long and bumpy, never losing each other, knowing Holmes would be his lantern, shining the way home.

Hope you enjoyed that. All reviews and comments welcomed ! :)