Author's note: I should have mentioned earlier, this story is set after the death of Watson's wife, and after my other stories A Sense of Purpose and Police Surgeon, and before Holmes' return from the dead. I actually have a time line posted on my profile, so if you have any question as to the order in which my stories occur, don't hesitate to check that out. Thanks.
Lestrade was awake the next time I visited. His eyes followed me as I entered, but he remained still.
"Good morning." I joked. He managed a weak smile. "How are you feeling?"
"My arm is killing me." He admitted. "The only thing worse is when Lizzie changes the bandaging. She still insists on treating it with that blasted-" He didn't finish; he didn't have the energy. He didn't know what the stuff was anyway, just that it was strong enough to prevent most of the infections he should have gotten from job related injuries over the years. He claimed he didn't want to know what it was.
I had determined that the stuff wouldn't do any harm, and would probably do some good. Still, it couldn't have felt pleasant.
"Mind if I take a look?" I asked politely. He sighed in response.
"Yes, but go ahead." He gave permission, and I began unwrapping his arm. He paled as I removed the last of the bandages, and swallowed back a moan.
"Whatever that stuff is, it seems to have eliminated the last of the infection." I commented. "You're healing well, Lestrade. You just need to give it time."
"And then pray it isn't useless anyway." He muttered darkly, then he realized he had spoken. "I am grateful." He hurried to assure me. "I just-" He hesitated. "He seemed so sure that I would never be able to use it again."
"It is going to be difficult, certainly." I told him. "And a lot of work. But Lestrade, if there's anyone stubborn enough to recover something like this, it's you."
He didn't believe me, but was too tired to argue. "Thanks." He said instead.
I set to putting my medical supplies away, and asked a question. "Your daughter seems to have some interest in medicine. I thought I would let her borrow this, if you don't mind."
He stared for a moment at the book I held out to him. Then he shook his head. "No, I don't mind."
When presented with it, Olivia stared at the book with wide eyes. "Really?" She asked. I nodded, and she burst into a grin. "Thank you." She said, taking the book reverently.
Then she darted off into the sitting room.
Elisabeth laughed. "We won't be able to get her nose out of that now." She informed me. "Come have a cup of tea before you go."
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.