Prompt: You'll be the death of me
By: Sendai
I awoke, bundled in blankets on an unfamiliar sofa and in an unfamiliar dormitory.
"Sherlock are you alright?" asked a voice.
Trevor I registered.
A cool hand lays itself gently upon my forehead, deflecting discomfort I was feeling
"T…Trevor?" I manage to ask, in spite of the fact that I was still shivering too much, and my voice I could now barely trust.
"I told before, you can call me Victor and more importantly, do you realise how big of an idiot you've been?"
"N...no."
"No surprise. Just eat this." He handed me a bowl of steaming chicken soup.
I took it gratefully. "What happened , Victor?"
"Well you made William Rushcross really mad to start with."
"Oh yes -the deductions of how he failed his exams and of his-"
"Just stop, Sherlock."
"Sorry." I apologise. Obviously he didn't want to remember how my deductions had brought me harm than good.
"It's fine. Don't know about old Rushcross though. He was mad enough to give you a shiner."
I grimaced- that explained my eye.
"What else?"
"Well- he and his mates grabbed you and dunked you in the river."
"Ah now I remember." I honestly wish to higher fates that I could forget. Being dunked in a cold, freezing river in early December had been the last thing on my superior mind.
"Well you're lucky I forget my textbooks. If I hadn't left mine in Mathematics, you might have well become his pet goldfish."
"Not funny." but secretly I was relieved.
"That well may be but when I found what they'd done to you I figured I'd take a bit of revenge."
His left knuckle, I noticed was bandaged up and covered in blood. Not much blood, but it was still worrying enough for me.
I also observed something else. In his trouser pocket was a piece of paper which had been crumpled up. I felt a sinking feeling within me when I realised what it was.
"I got you in trouble."
"What? What are you on about, Sherlock?"
"Your pocket. You have a disciplinary notice."
He fished it out and looked at it. Then he threw it into the burning fire.
"I don't care about that." He told me defiantly. "I'm more worried about you, Sherlock."
"Well I brought this upon myself so I don't deserve-"
"Sympathy? Rubbish! Just because you've been an idiot doesn't mean I'll leave you to get pneumonia." He chuckled at my puzzled expression. "Honestly Sherlock. Someday you'll be the death of me. Now budge up."
I obeyed. Normally I would remain stubborn on the subject, but in this instance I was too cold and tired.
Victor slumped down on the sofa next to me. Still shivering I manage to weakly trawl back and snuggle close to my friend for warmth.
Morpheus came to my door soon after.
Several years later...
"Holmes!"
I opened my eyes. I was in Baker Street again, in my flat. Well, our flat. Watson was here too. He was holding my hand, stroking and rubbing the back with his thumb.
"Watson?"
"Oh Holmes thank the Lord you survived! I hope you never do that again."
"Do what?" I ask, as I had little recollection of what happened.
"Jump in the Thames of course! One of these days you'll be the death of me."
I smile at that. I remember how Victor had attained a disciplinary notice to save me from being drowned by Rushcross, and of his words towards me.
"Honestly, Sherlock. Someday you'll be the death of me."
Mycroft had been the first person I knew to say that. Then Victor. And now Watson. My Boswell. He had jumped in the Thames for me.
"Holmes!"
I jumped.
"I said, do you want tea?"
"If you would be so kind." I reply curtly and nestle down within the blankets and went into a light doze.
