A/N: Another 221B.
Blind
I have often wondered which fate could probably be the cruellest to befall the living. As a former army surgeon, I have seen a good many men blinded by the flash of a gunshot, or by splinters which caused severe damage to their eyes. I trusted they would learn to live with it, as I have with my own injuries, with the aid of their families. I could do nothing to help them.
This, however, was another matter. They had not thought me dangerous enough, but had been cursory with Holmes. When he stumbled for the third time, robbed of his normally excellent eyesight, and received a harsh kick into the ribs for not being fast enough in getting up yet again, my temper got the better of me.
They were utterly surprised by my wiggling out of their slipshod knots, and by the fact that even with a throbbing shoulder I was a formidable opponent.
As they were senseless and bound with the same ropes that had formerly held me, I walked over to Holmes, who had the good sense to crawl away from the scuffle.
It pained me to see him flinch at my footsteps, and I hurried to reassure him that it was only I. He relaxed slightly, and I knelt before him to carefully remove the blindfold.