"Gregson! The stairs!" Holmes was up in a flash and had launched himself over the back of the couch. He was out the door in less than a second.
"Stay." The doctor warned me before dashing after Holmes. I struggled to my feet anyway and made my way after them, albeit much more slowly.
The doctor was kneeling beside the body crumpled at the bottom of the stairs by the time I reached the top.
"Holmes! I need your help." The doctor called, and Sherlock, who had apparently been studying the stairs, moved to his side instantly.
I couldn't make out the flurry of words being thrown back and forth between the two, but after a moment they straightened the still form of Inspector Gregson out. Sherlock moved to kneel by his head, the doctor by his feet, and in a few brief seconds they were lifting the man and actually carrying him up the stairs.
If Sherlock's wrist were troubling him, he seemed oblivious to the pain, but the doctor grimaced as he fought to carry his end of their burden. I wondered if it were his injury, whatever it had been, that he had received in the war that was troubling him.
"Out of the way, Lestrade." Sherlock snapped as they reached the top of the stairs and surged past me. They maneuvered Gregson over onto the couch, and the doctor was already examining the Inspector as Sherlock went for the medical bag I had tripped over earlier in the morning.
"Thank you." The doctor muttered as Sherlock set the bag beside him. "Get Lestrade to sit down, if you will, I don't want to have to worry about both of them."
Sherlock nodded, to my surprise, and was suddenly escorting me to an armchair. I absently noticed it was the doctor's chair, and the amateur detective seated himself in the other, though he sat perched on the edge, ready to render assistance at a second's notice, should it become necessary.
"What happened?" I asked of the man. "How did you know Gregson had fallen down the stairs?"
Sherlock turned his attention from the doctor and Inspector. "I am somewhat familiar with the sound of a person falling down the stairs." He said dryly, his gaze flickering briefly over to the doctor before returning back to focus on me.
"He didn't fall, he was pushed." The doctor threw over his shoulder.
"Pushed?" I repeated. If so, our quarry knew where we were.
Sherlock frowned at the doctor. "I suspected as much, but was not entirely certain…"
"He didn't slip; he would not have gone down head first. You know that from experience, Holmes." The doctor continued shortly, and my eyes widened.
Sherlock Holmes, fall down the stairs? But the man in question merely nodded in agreement. "Could he have tripped?"
"It's still not likely he would have gone down head over heels like that. Was there anything for him to trip over?"
"No." Sherlock shook his head. "I don't leave things lying about on the stairs any more, not since last time." He rose from his chair and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" I demanded.
Sherlock turned to look me dead in the eye. "I am going to endeavor to discover something about the Inspector's assailant." He informed me before darting once more for the door.
"Be careful, Holmes." The doctor called after him.
Disclaimer: Now you and I both know that I am not Mr. Doyle and therefore, own none of this.