My wife opened the door and caught me before I pitched forward and fell flat on my face. Doctor Watson helped steady me, and apologetically explained that I had been helping Sherlock with an experiment.
"As long as you aren't brining him home drunk." She decided. The Doctor blinked, and flushed. My wife's response was to laugh. "No, he doesn't make a habit of coming home drunk." She assured him. "But the last time he fell over like this on the front porch he had been swimming in the Thames and reeked of garlic and cloves."
My wife was too free with her stories about me, I decided as she and the Doctor helped me inside. I still could barely move, and I worried about how long this stiffness was going to last.
"Keep an eye on him." The Doctor was saying as they lowered me onto the couch. "He should be fine by tomorrow, but I think Holmes' concoction worked a little too well."
Lizzie frowned. "I don't much care for the thought of my husband being Mr. Holmes' guinea pig."
"And he usually isn't." Doctor Watson assured her quickly. "The situation, however-"
"Well, I'll watch him." My wife relaxed at the Doctor's words. "And rest assured you'll hear about it if he's not right as rain tomorrow."
"I would expect nothing less." Doctor Watson replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I must be going. Good evening, Inspector." He said to me.
"Goodbye." I managed to croak. My voice still wasn't working properly either.
"Good to see you again, Doctor Watson." Lizzie said, showing him out. When she returned it was with her hands on her hips. I cringed.
"An experiment?" She demanded.
I swallowed and tried to explain.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.
