21st Dec: From sirensbane - Role reversal
A/N: Continuation of 16th Dec response. Happy new year everyone!
After his brief dip in Serpentine Lake in Hyde Park, Watson - to no one's surprise but his own - developed a nasty strain of influenza. Following a stern talking to from Mrs Hudson when she heard his thunderous cough all the way from the kitchens, he begrudgingly prescribed himself bedrest and sent out messages to all relevant parties that he would be unable to work until after the Christmas period was over. I myself had no cases of interest and was forced to postpone a fascinating chemical experiment; the fumes set off Watson's coughing and, more to the point, his temper. I avoided cocaine, also to avoid his ire, and so was left at rather a loose end.
A few days into Watson's convalescence a welcome distraction was provided. I was leaving the pharmacy, stocking up Watson's medical bag per his instruction, when I came across Wiggins.
"What you got there then Mr 'Olmes?" He pointed to my brown paper bag. "Yew doin' Doctor Watson's work now?"
"He is ill," I answered wearily. The adage about Doctors making the worst patients was proving true; he trailed about the place sneezing, coughing and complaining. I did my best, but as he himself acknowledged, my bedside manner was somewhat lacking.
Wiggins looked instantly concerned. "From 'elpin' Sammy?"
"Indeed, but do not worry yourself." I made to leave, but stopped short as a flash of inspiration seized me. "Wiggins, I believe I have an idea..."
"This really isn't necessary!"
Watson's token protest was drowned out by the thundering of multiple feet up the 17 steps to our living room. The swarm of children burst in laden with medicines, warm blankets and homemade remedies. At the very rear was Samuel, the boy Watson had treated for a broken leg, limping along with the assistance of two crutches. If I shared Watson's love of embellishment, I should say he looked a veritable Tiny Tim.
"Really boys this is very kind." Watson was still blustering, though he struggled to be heard given the combination of his hoarse voice and the Irregulars' loud chatter. "But I am the Doctor here and I really don't think-"
"Come now Watson, the boys only want to help," I cut across him, marshalling the Irregulars into some form of, well, regularity. They stood quiet as I had ever seen them, and Samuel hobbled forward.
"We only wanted to 'elp yew get better, Doctor," he mumbled bashfully. "Like yew always 'elp us!"
Tiny heads bobbed up and down in eager agreement. Watson, ever the bleeding heart, could not deny the pleas of so many children. He settled back against the couch cushions, glaring daggers at me, and resigned himself to the Irregulars' dubious ministrations.