Prompt #359. Almost halfway there! Miles to go before we sleep! - Use however this inspires you.
"Watson!"
Holmes' voice came from somewhere above me, tense with the fear he could not quite hide. The other end of the wagon shifted as I fought to reply through the dust choking me.
"Watson!"
"H—" The attempt dissolved into a coughing fit, but he heard that well enough. Sprinting footsteps immediately lifted splintered wood off my back. I pushed myself to my knees, still coughing.
"Watson?"
One hand waved the question aside when he knelt between me and the wreckage. I would be fine once I caught my breath.
"Where are you injured?"
I indicated a negative. "Not," I finally managed, a gesture referencing the broken remains of the wagon. "Dusty. Heavy. Didn't—have an angle to push it away. What happened?"
Worry lined his forehead as a hand prevented me from standing. "You do not remember?"
"Couldn't see," I reminded him shortly, sitting since he would not let me up. Perhaps the extra minute would let the pain fade. "I heard you yell, then the horse screamed, and I think we hit a tree. The wreckage pinned me before I could do anything."
Some of his concern eased, replaced with discomfort as he sought a reply. "The horse spooked," he said simply. "The impact threw me clear, but the wagon landed on you. Are you sure—"
"I'm fine." Except for the continued pain from shoulder to leg, but that would not prevent me from reaching town. Nothing felt more than bruised, anyway. "Are you injured?"
"No." He studied me for another moment then offered a hand up. "The horse is already on its way to town, though I doubt even our inimitable host will notice its arrival until we have time to follow. Can you walk?"
A scowl sufficed as answer despite the momentary sway that had prompted the question. We were at least eight miles from town, and the sun hung low in the sky. He should know better than to ask that after I had already confirmed a lack of true injury. My leg had not bothered me for most of the day.
Until half of a wagon had forced me into the dirt, but I saw no reason to specify that. With a moment to grab our bags and my cane from the wreckage, we started our slow walk to town. My pace would make this a long night.
"How much further, do you think?"
Lights shone at the top of the hill, visible for the last two hours though they never grew any closer. If not for the knowledge that Holmes saw them as well, I would believe the lights a mirage. Several seconds passed as he gauged the distance.
"Three or four miles." Worry lined his forehead a moment later. "Will you make it?"
A wave brushed the question away. Of course I would make it. I had already told him—twice—that I was not injured.
"Just curious." My cane revealed a soft spot before it tripped me. "Your eyes are better."
His quiet harrumph declared how little he believed me. We each took a different path around a large patch of heather to meet on the other side.
"Would you tell me otherwise?"
A stream silenced the affirmative to a single nod. Probably, because that would affect his ability to get back. We both knew he would not leave me to catch up in town.
"So you will tell me why your speed has slowed in the last ten minutes?"
Because he had been matching my pace instead of making me match his. I sped up slightly.
"Tired."
Fatigue could affect my gait, as his quiet hum acknowledged. He still studied me, however.
"You told me you slept last night."
"How many hours has it been since dawn?" I did not need to look up to know his scowl looked more like a grimace. The stars announced it roughly an hour before midnight now, and he had dragged me into that wagon at sunup. "I'm fine, Holmes," I promised. "I just move slower than you. Go on ahead if you want. You can roust our host from his bed with comments on how oblivious he is."
He allowed a faint smirk at the visual but made no effort to quicken his steps—as I had expected. I returned my attention to not falling on the underbrush.
Holmes did not need to know how my old scars still protested the accident. Aches did not qualify as "injury."
"Watson?"
I smothered the urge to sigh. Apparently, I would not be able to lose myself in the corridors before he looked back. Lantern light flickered across dark shadows under his eyes as he quickly changed direction to walk beside me.
"Where are you going?"
"This way." Concentrated effort kept my voice level despite the pain and fatigue clouding my thoughts. "Go to bed, Holmes."
The throbbing ache in my leg forced me to rest for a moment. Holmes merely waited for me to resume walking.
"Our rooms are in the other direction," he reminded me. "Do you intend to sleep?"
"I'm too tired not to." The wall substituted balance when a muscle jerked at the wrong moment. "Go on. I will follow in a moment."
To bed, not to our rooms, though I would not voice the distinction. I counted it a miracle to have made it to town at all, much less without Holmes seeing anything more than the normal pain and stiffness caused by a long walk. With a passable bed on the ground floor, I saw no reason to admit an inability to climb the stairs. Our host would think nothing of finding me on the library's sofa in the morning.
Provided Holmes let me reach it. "What do you need from the library?"
"The book I left in there," I answered promptly—and truthfully enough. "You know that young menace likes to steal stuff. He would—damage 't."
The last words hit the air closer to a grunt than I had intended, but I could do nothing about it. The sharp pain in my leg abruptly became a blinding spasm, and I barely suppressed the gasp that would have revealed the problem. My leg would not support my weight for much longer.
"—son, answer me."
Silence said just as much as noise, however. Pain's red tinge faded to reveal my friend directly in front of me, frowning at the way I had frozen almost mid step. Relief flickered when I tried to glare at him.
"The walk or the wreck?"
Both, but he had not listed that as an option. I would not correct the loophole.
"The walk," I answered when I could breathe again. A pointed frown made him step aside to let me continue, though one hand stayed within inches of my sleeve. "Have you forgotten what irritates that injury?"
No. Nor had he forgotten how to read me. He ignored my question in favor of his own. "Will that change if I take your left arm?"
I steadied myself against the wall instead of replying, and he grumbled something to the effect of "stubborn" before a quick movement stole my cane. His wiry frame glued itself to my side a moment later.
"You care more about avoiding the stairs than finding your book," he announced, my good arm now in his. "When do you intend to sleep?"
"As soon as I sit down," I returned, "which might be in the hallway if you do not give me back my cane."
He twitched a grin but tucked the stick out of reach. "Are you truly uninjured?"
"Yes." Another spasm forced me to lean on him more than I wanted. "You know my leg does not appreciate long walks over rough ground."
A gentle squeeze on my arm silently agreed. "What about your shoulder?"
The wagon had landed on it. He did not need to know that.
"Bruised, I think. It will be fine by morning."
He still doubted me, but while that keen gaze studied me continuously, silence reigned until we reached the empty library.
"Settee or sofa?"
"Sofa," I answered firmly, "and do not take the settee for yourself. You will not be able to sleep more than an hour."
A glance said he heard the experience beneath the warning. He left the question for later, however, smirking when my eyes tried to close the instant my back touched the cushion.
"You do not need anything?"
"Sleep," I muttered facetiously. Where was the pillow I had found the other night? "Just like you. G' on."
There, beneath the end table. Careful movements shifted to support head and shoulder, and while I heard Holmes say something that might have been an argument, I did not stay awake long enough to make out the words. Maybe once I fell asleep, he would take himself to the real bed his body would let him reach.
Or not. I found him in the wide chair late morning, propped between the armrests and feet dangling over the floor. He woke to a pillow hitting his face.
Maybe that would teach him to follow orders.
Hope you enjoyed :) Reviews are always welcome
Fireguardian 22: Thank you. and I always like when Doris shows up-especially toddler Doris. she's so cute!
