I tensed as I heard Watson's exclamation. I could tell he was hurt, but I didn't know how he'd been injured or how serious it was. I could only try to turn my neck enough to look at him but could only catch his profile out of the corner of my eye.
"Watson?" I asked, my agitation about our captivity fading into fear for my loyal comrade. I glanced around for our captors, but none were there.
When Watson didn't respond immediately, I raised my voice a little, panic creeping into me.
"Watson what happened?" I demanded. Had he fainted? Another alternative came to me and I tried to force it away, but it was his voice that did so.
"Give me a second Holmes." He responded. I could hear the pain in his voice and impatiently waited for him to explain.
"Holmes, have you your hankerchief?" He asked.
"Its in the same pocket." I responded. I moved to make sure he could reach in and get it. I didn't tell him that a few strands of hair were there for safekeeping.
"What happened?" I asked again, hoping he'd respond this time.
"My hand slipped, I cut my arm Holmes." Watson said finally.
"Badly?" I asked, wondering if he could tell without seeing the wound.
"Well it is a sharp blade!"