AN: I almost choked on my OJ when I saw how much feedback I was getting to this story (and "One of Those Nights"). Gosh, you guys are too kind (please, I welcome all criticism!) Anyway, thanks so much to my reviewers… beth einspanier (thanks for the wonderful praise), kittenchatter (sorry about the chapter 4 title, didn't mean to trip you up; ah! another TC fan!!!! YAY!), moonrose (here's more chapters for ya!), pinkpanther (thanks so much following both stories), fowl-star (you're too cute!), and finley (I forgot to thank you for the last story!). As far as the question about romance, I must continue to decline the question, as I'm enjoying every bit of this dynamic too much right now. Basically, Watson and Holmes are friends; they don't judge each other, they just… understand. (make sense? Probably not).

Now, ACD owns what's his.  Enough of my blabbering.

Chapter 5

I had just barely changed into a comfy pair of pajamas (an pair of old scrubs from my residency years) when I heard an urgent pounding on my door.  I ran to answer it.

Holmes and another man tumbled into my living room.

I was alarmed. "What's going on?" I asked as I hurriedly shut the door behind them.

Holmes was propping the other man up. "Watson, we need your help. This man- he's been shot," he relayed breathlessly.

"We need to go to the ER then! Why'd you bring him here?" I began searching frantically for my car keys. Holmes could be quite dense sometimes.

"No. I won't go there. He'll find me and kill me for sure," the other man moaned.

I glanced helplessly at Holmes. "What am I supposed do then?"

Holmes threw me the bag he was carrying in his free hand. "Take the bullet out. The supplies are in there."

This was too much. He was asking me to remove a bullet from someone in my own living room? Without an anthesiologist, or even proper hospital equipment for the procedure? "You're kidding."

Holmes shook his head gravely. "I'm afraid not. Please Watson. This guy will die if he goes to an ER. There are people looking for him out there."

"I'd rather die here, doc, then die by their hand. Please, get it out," the other man pleaded, gasping.

I swallowed uneasily as I nodded. "Ok. I have your word on that." Part of me was still screaming and didn't allow me to move. What the hell are you doing Laura? You haven't operated on a living being in a year and not to mention the potential malpractice-

"Watson, please." Holmes was begging me. I had to agree. For Holmes, then.

I opened the bag Holmes had tossed me, finding some gauze, some packaged surgical tools, some sutures- basically, a rudimentary surgical kit with some bottles of saline and a large plastic tarp. This I spread out on the floor and Holmes placed the man on it.

 "Where was he shot?"

Holmes pointed at the source of the blood- a point right below the man's collarbone.

I ripped the man's shirt around that area and begin preliminary cleansing with some saline. "If I do this Holmes, at the very least, you owe me some answers."

"I promise, Watson. I'll answer everything I can."

Satisfied for the moment, I took a deep breath and began working.