Halfway down the gangway, a cry of alarm sounded behind us. Running footsteps became a trip and tumble, and the escaping criminal rolled into my legs as I tried to turn around.
My bad leg buckled beneath me. I fell sideways, knocking into Holmes before crashing into the railing and rolling at an angle down the gangway as I fought to stop.
"Watson!" I heard simultaneous to a splash. I hoped Holmes had not fallen in, but I could not focus on that yet.
The walkway disappeared beneath me, and I frantically grabbed, searching for something, anything I could use to keep myself out of the cold water. My shoulder wound had taken my ability to swim, but we were high enough above the water that that may not matter. If I survived the fall, I would not stay afloat for more than a few minutes.
My grasping hand impacted a railing, and I grabbed hold, my knuckles turning white as I fought to keep my awkward grip. I had grabbed with my left hand, and I tried to hook the cane somehow still in my right hand around the upper rail. If I could hook the rail, I would have more leverage to pull myself back to the walkway. My left hand would not hold for long. Already, pain was lancing through my shoulder.
My first attempt missed, and I fought to keep my grip.
I made a second attempt, but I missed that one, too. I was running out of time.
I readjusted a small amount, aiming to toss my cane back to the gangway and grab the rail with my right hand, but another hand grasped mine before I could try that.
Holmes' worried face—pale with fright—leaned over the edge, and he reached down to grab my belt with his other hand. Within a few seconds, I was back on the walkway, breathing heavily, and I leaned against the nearest pole as the lancing pain in my shoulder exploded.
"Watson?" he asked.
I did not answer. I could not answer, not when a spasm worse than any I had had since my initial injury tore through my left shoulder. I reflexively grabbed at the joint, bowing my head to hide my grimace.
"Watson, talk to me." He tried to move my hand, to examine the joint I reflexively gripped.
If I opened my mouth, I knew the only thing that would come out would be a scream of pain. I locked my jaw shut but let him move my hand, allowing myself a soft moan as pure agony shot through my shoulder.
He felt along the scar tissue, gently looking for any sign of injury, and pain rippled as he moved closer to the center of the scar. I tried to relax, hoping that doing so would lessen the pain that dominated my awareness.
"Watson! Stay awake, Watson!"
That was a strange command, I mused, but I had little time to think on it. Another wave of pain washed over me, and I welcomed the blackness that promised to numb the agony.
ooh, a cliffy. What happens next? Even I don't know yet. The snippet of a plot bunny that bit me ended there. Anyone want more?