Disclaimer: I don't own Holmes, Watson, or any of the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Defend

'Damn it, Watson!' shouted Holmes as I lay on the settee in our sitting room so as not to disturb my injured leg. 'You might have told me that your wound was acting up before I dragged you out on this cold night to hunt down the ruffians who kidnapped Madame Haverford's son.'

I frowned a little. 'Ah, but Holmes, if I had told you that, you would have forced me to remain here at Baker Street. Which would have meant YOU entering a dissolute area of the city alone, to fight a group of half a dozen. I could not very well let you do that!'

'Watson, I appreciate that you think of me, and that you felled the man who attacked me, but really! You were also injured, in your game leg no less, when it was already painful! You do not have to constantly rush to my defense,' Holmes growled, crossing his arms and turning his back to me.

'Oh! You know that I would rather be injured myself than see you hurt,' I say gently.

Holmes mutters something indistinct.

'What was that?'

He turns to look at me again. 'I said, that it the same with me. I cannot abide it when you are in pain, and when it is on my account...I hate myself for it.'

'Oh, Holmes,' I murmured. He drew closer to me, kneeling by the side of the settee.

'My dear, please, do not trouble yourself with those dark thoughts. I am perfectly alright!' I insisted firmly, taking his hand in mine and petting his hair to sooth him.

He regarded me with solemn silver eyes. 'And what should I do,' he whispered, 'if I were to one day lose you because of that?'

'My dear, I am able to take care of myself,' I reminded him gently.

'As am I!' he shot back angrily, tightening his grip on my hand. 'I just-I would not have any idea of how to do without you. You-you are too much a part of me for me to let you go!'

I gently brought his face closer to mine. 'Why do we not defend each other, my love?' I suggested. 'We do everything else together, why not that? Why do we not take care of one another?'

'Excellent idea, my dear Watson. But not if your wounds are acting up,' Holmes said.

'I refuse to let you venture into dangerous areas alone!' I cried in frustration.

'Never fear, I shall call in some of Scotland Yard's finest to accompany me!' he smirked.

The thought struck me with such horror that all I could say was, 'Oh, Lord!' whilst Holmes laughed and embraced me.