Chapter Two

"How are you feeling, Holmes?"

"I've been better...but at least I am alive. How long has it been?"

"Since you were injured?"

"Yes."

"Five days." The slight tremor in Watson's voice was unmistakable, at least to someone who knew him as well as Holmes did.

"My dear fellow, what is the matter?"

"Nothing; I was not injured—why do you ask?"

"Watson, as I believe I've mentioned in the past, prevarication does not become you nor are you skilled at it. I can see that you are not injured, but it is equally clear to me something is troubling you besides the obvious fatigue and worry resulting from your vigil over me."

"It is of no importance."

"Yes, it is to me. Now come, out with it."

"Well, it is of no consequence, really..."

"Watson, vacillation does not suit you, either. Now please, out with it—I haven't the strength for a long argument."

Watson bowed his head in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Holmes, it's just...this was a serious injury. And the ensuing infection made it even worse. I would have taken you to the hospital had you not all but forbidden me to...Holmes, if you had died while under my care..." Watson's voice broke.

Holmes placed his hand on Watson's arm. "Oh my dear Watson, I never meant for you to blame and doubt yourself in that manner; pray forgive me. No doubt you're wondering why I was so adamant about not going to the hospital?"

"Well, yes, the thought did cross my mind...but I had to respect your wishes."

"For which you have my sincere gratitude and appreciation. It's a long story, Watson, but briefly, the facts are these. When I was just starting out as an independent consulting detective, shortly before we met..." Holmes paused to draw a breath.

"Holmes," Watson hurried to say, "you can tell me the rest later, when you are recovered."

"No, pray let me finish. As I said, one of my very first cases concerned a hospital physician suspected of embezzling funds. I had gone to work at the facility disguised as an orderly. Good heavens, Watson, the things I saw there...Patients died sometimes because of nothing more but lack of care...and died alone..." Holmes broke off but not before Watson noticed a slight but perceptible tremor in his voice.

"You do know not all hospitals are like that, don't you, Holmes? And I would watch over you even in the hospital...It's just that if you are ever injured beyond my skill to treat..."

"In that case, my dear fellow, of course you have my permission."

"Thank you, Holmes," said Watson. "You really should rest now; you are still far from recovered."

"I believe I shall; I confess I am rather tired." And with that, Holmes's eyes drifted closed and his breathing immediately evened out. Watson breathed a sigh of relief.

Watson got up, turned down the oil lamp, and softly closed the bedroom door behind him. He decided to stay downstairs for the night to be near to Holmes in case he was needed. Watson stoked the coal fire and sank back down onto the couch, watching the flames flicker. Watson thought of what Holmes had said and smiled softly. He would always be there for Holmes to catch him when he fell. Watson closed his eyes and slipped into the arms of Morpheus. With Watson and Holmes side by side, their life threads would interweave in the tapestry of life until the end of time.

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