Prompt: A Dartmoor Picnic
From: mrspencil
…
I winced as my leg nearly buckled from beneath me in pain. I stopped, trying hard not to fall. Holmes, however, was striding purposefully ahead. I wish he wouldn't.
"Holmes!" I called out, prompting him to turn around.
"Watson!" Holmes cried, jogging back over to me. "Are you alright, my boy?"
"I- I need a moment, Holmes, my leg"-
"Here, we'll sit a moment," Holmes decided, helping me sit down. It was very difficult, for my leg was screaming in pain, and I wanted to just shut down. I was surprised when Holmes started gently massaging my scar tissue, where I had been struck by a Jezail bullet on the leg, but figured Holmes was trying to ease the worst of the pain.
It worked, but only slightly; my leg still felt very painful, and I knew standing again was out of the question for the moment.
"Shall we lunch now then?" Holmes asked, quietly.
"I suppose." I sighed miserably.
Holmes squeezed my hand. "It's not your fault, Watson," He reminded me, simply. "I know you cannot help it, and anyway, it nice enough we can sit down and enjoy the sunshine."
"You're right there, Holmes, old boy," I said with a grin. Holmes pulled out some roast beef sandwiches from his pocket, and handed me two, settling the other two in his lap. He also pulled out a flask of water. It was all he had, as we hadn't expected to stop here on Dartmoor.
I had an orange and some humbugs, so I offered half of both to my friend, who graciously accepted. These were divvied accordingly, and we tucked into our sandwiches with gusto.
Holmes saw that I was still miserable about my leg slowing us down, so he endeavoured to cheer me up by recounting some of his most awful encounters with people wanting to engage his services. Knowing some people to act so entitled and rude, having treated many myself, I could not help but laugh at Holmes' reminiscences.
So, even though I did not enjoy being slowed by my leg, again, I had a most enjoyable afternoon with my friend, Sherlock Holmes.