I decided to follow Lestrade. After all, I doubted that Holmes would listen to him. Highly improbable.
I attempted to sit up, then collapsed onto the pillows again, pain shooting through my chest. Not at all daunted, I used my (uninjured) arm to prop myself up, then levered myself out of the bed.
I paused. Did I really want to leave a safe bed for wherever Holmes was at the moment?
I got up and went out the door, hopping gently on my good leg. Ducking behind doorways whenever somebody passed, I reached the exit of the hospital. Knowing Holmes, he probably would have deduced where I had been due to the mudstains on my clothes.
So I hailed a hansom and went to the same pub.
The moment I had stepped out, I heard shouts of "Calm down, Mr. Holmes!" and other inarticulate yells. I smiled grimly. Simons had made the mistake of staying here.
"Holmes!" The three shapes in the darkness stopped. The biggest one was pushed to the ground, the shortest to the side, and the tallest strode toward me. "Watson?"
"Holmes, please, don't commit a murder on my account."
"Watson! What are you doing here!?"
"Never mind that. You do realize you are acting as though a brother has been wronged instead of a friend."
"On the contrary. I find you more tolerable than a brother."
And that ends this little arc! Next chapter: I... don't really know. I'm working on it!