Disclaimer: Holmes, Watson, and Gladstone do not belong to me. Neither do Goldfish crackers or Hershey Kisses. Neither does Rafikki from Lion King.

A/N: And here is Part 2! It isn't my favorite chapter, but it has its moments. And its Watson! And a little Gladstone, for all his fans out there.

"Are you comfortable, Holmes?" I asked him, adjusting for the thirtieth time the pillows beneath his head.

"Fine, woman. Stop fussing over me," he said.

"How do you feel, old boy?" Watson wondered.

"Fussed over."

"Aside from that."

"Good."

"Do you need anything?" I said.

"Oh…nothing…."

"You don't sound very convincing, Holmes." Watson nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to bother you…." He frowned.

"For goodness sake, Holmes, it's no trouble," Watson said. "We're right here."

"Well…root beer sounds delicious at this time…" Holmes said slowly.

"Alright, we'll get you root beer," I said. "Watson? You know where it is?"

"Of course." He strode out.

I sat on the edge of the bed. "Anything else, Holmes? Food? A book?"

"Television," he replied.

"Okay. Anything in particular?"

"This one." He held up a familiar, dark teal-tinted DVD case. He was holding back a smirk.

I blinked. "Uhh…no."

"Why not?" Holmes asked innocently. "It has my name on it, doesn't it?"

I glared at him, wondering how he even got it out of my room. "Why ever would you want to watch a movie about yourself?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm sure we can all agree that I am quite vain."

"No. You are not watching this."

"WATSON! ABUSE! THE WOMAN IS ABUSING ME!" he screeched.

"You know what, you're very lucky that you're already injured," I grumbled, snatching Sherlock Holmes from him and stomping for the door.

Watson arrived just as I reached it, carbonation in hand and brow furrowed. "Are you alright?" he asked me.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? I thought he was the one being abused."

"Well Holmes has a way of turning things around."

"I wouldn't let him watch this," I explained, holding up the DVD.

Watson scrutinized it. "Is that me?"

"No!" I yelped, shoving the movie behind my back. "Of course not!"

He shook his head. "You and Holmes both are terrible liars. However, I can tell you're under stress and I will refrain from pursuing the matter any further. Why don't you get some rest?"

I squeezed my forehead. "Just keep him happy."

"Naturally."

I managed about twenty minutes of sleep before it was penetrated by "WOMAN! WOMAN! WOMAN, I REQUIRE YOU NOW! WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG TO RESPOND TO MY DISTRESS?"

Groaning, I rolled off my bed and stumbled to Holmes. Immediately my drowsiness was dispelled by the fact that he was hanging backwards off the side of the bed.

"Holmes! What the heck do you think you're doing, you have broken ribs and you're performing acrobatics!" I rushed over to him and eased him gingerly back onto the bed.

"Well I was hungry!"

"So you decided to flip off the bed?"

"No! I pushed all the blankets down and I was going to roll off, so I could then turn over and drag myself to the kitchen. However we encountered some problems with rolling."

"Why didn't you just get up and walk? No—why didn't you get me or Watson?"

"It hurts to walk, and Watson is exercising Gladstone and you sleep like a dead rock!"

"You thought dragging yourself around would hurt less?"

"Anything that can be done should be done with more complication."

"Okay, listen, Rafikki." I pointed at him. "You do not get out of this bed. For anything. Except using the bathroom. And even then, you call Watson."

"Just Watson?"

"Yes just Watson! And whatever else you need, it can't be important enough for you to go rolling around on the floor. You want to get better, don't you?"

"No, woman, I was considering prolonging my recovery."

"Excellent. Stay in bed. Do you need anything now?"

He beamed. "Fishy crackers."

"Okay, Goldfish. Anything else?"

"May I use your little music square?"

"My ipod? Yes, thank you for asking," I said, surprised.

"Good." Holmes reached under his pillow and pulled it out.

I sighed and looked at him for a second. "I…have nothing to say."

He waved his hand in dismissal. "Fishy crackers."

"Stay in bed." With that, I made a trip to the kitchen for snacks. When I returned, I handed them to Holmes and he frowned.

"Where is the chocolate?"

"What chocolate?"

"The chocolate I asked you for."

"You never asked me for chocolate."

"Yes I did. I remember it clearly."

I sighed. "Fine. Chocolate. I'll be right back."

A minute later, I was back with a bag of Hershey's Kisses. "Is that all?"

"You forgot the exploding corn."

"Of course I did." I turned to leave, then glanced back at him. "Anything else while I'm still here?"

"I want a puppy."

"And I want a gorgeous man."

"Goodness, woman, how greedy. Watson and I are already here, how many do you need?"

I rolled my eyes. "No puppy."

"You're cruel."

After a few more minutes, I returned with a large bowl of popcorn. "Here. You should be fine until dinnertime."

"Thank you, woman. Except now I am thirsty."

I smirked and handed him a bottle of water. "Already thought of that, hon."

"No root beer?" he pouted.

"No. You've had enough today."

"One can never have enough liquid."

"Oh, no, there's definitely a limit." I switched on the TV and tossed him the remote as I left. "Entertain yourself."

And to my amazement, he did, until I came back with dinner. The three of us ate in his room and then played every card game I knew at least once. Watson dominated, Holmes cheated, and I learned that Gladstone liked to eat spades.

"Okay, Holmes, you need to get to bed," I said at ten.

"Where do you think I've been all day?" he replied grumpily.

"Alright, you need to get to sleep."

"Nonsense."

"She's right, Holmes," Watson said. "If you want to recover, you need rest."

"I want my violin."

"Holmes…" I began.

"Just for a little, and then I'll sleep," he reassured us.

"Where is it?" the doctor wondered.

"In the car," Holmes answered.

I snorted. "Why is it in the car?"

"I don't think I should tell you."

Watson chuckled and went to retrieve it. I picked Gladstone up with great effort and set him on the ground, where he collapsed in a heap and began to snore.

We sat in silence and stared into space until Watson returned with the violin. Holmes smiled and played for a while, until finally he set it down. "I'm finished," he announced, "and I would appreciate it if you would let me sleep."

The doctor and I exchanged astonished looks. "Alright, Holmes," he said. "We'll let you sleep." Watson ruffled his friend's hair. "Goodnight, old boy."

"Goodnight, Watson."

I hopped off the bed and kissed Holmes's forehead again. He wrinkled his nose. "Woman, really. I'm fully conscious."

"Yes, I know." Setting his violin on the desk, I walked to the door and closed it behind me. "Goodnight, Holmes."

"Sweet dreams, woman."

Weeks passed, and I began to worry. Holmes was certainly improving, but every time Watson checked him he said he wasn't fully recovered yet.

A full month and a half later, I peeked into Holmes's room in the morning. A mess of dark hair was the only part of him showing and I smiled, content to let him sleep. I went to the kitchen and got myself some breakfast.

Not ten minutes later, I glanced up and the spoon clattered from my hand as Holmes walked in, rumpled and disheveled but in no pain. He smiled. "Good morning, woman. Do we have waffles?"

"Holmes! What are you doing out of bed?"

"Searching for food. What else would I be doing?"

"But…but you're not healed!"

"Yes he is," Watson said as he entered the room in his jammies as well.

"Surprise," Holmes grinned.

I jumped up and hugged him. "You're fine? Really?"

"I wouldn't say that," Watson put in, "but he is fully recovered."

"Awesome," I beamed. Then my face grew serious. "Holmes, what have we learned from this?"

"That I do not sleep in my bed for a reason," he said.

"I'm serious."

"Big cars are dangerous," Holmes corrected.

"And we should watch out for them."

"Yes."

"Good."

"Where are my waffles?"

Watson was nowhere to be seen. Holmes pushed me away and began yelling.

"Watson! I demand you bring back the waffles!"

For a moment I wished he were back in bed. But just for a moment.

It seems like I've read that line somewhere, but I can't recall where. Maybe it's deja vu or something, but just in case, I didn't mean to copy it if you have seen it somewhere. Blame my subconscious. And as for the romance 'tween Holmes and I, if it ever does come up, it'll just be occasional fluff, as Holmes isn't an overly affectionate person anyway and I don't want to make it the main focus of the story. And with that, review! :)