A/N:Prompt 29: From A Very Holmesian Christmas: An Attempt Was Made: With Watson suddenly ill, Sherlock Holmes attempts to fill in for Watson as a doctor.

Locum

"Materia Medica and Therapeutics"

He clutched the well worn volume in his hand.

He also held the key to Watson's clinic;

This wasn't quite the morning he'd originally planned.

~0~

The doctor was, alas, struck down with fever,

A sudden bout confined his friend to bed.

And Anstruther; first choice, had not responded,

So Holmes had volunteered to check the clinic out instead.

~0~

He understood detective and physician

Were callings which displayed some common ground,

And chemistry applied to both professions,

And clearly, observation skills, he'd honed, were more than sound.

~0~

He'd waved away his ailing friend's objections,

Ignored his fevered comrade's quiet alarm,

And left him in the care of Mrs Hudson.

The doctor's final words, before he left..."Holmes, do no harm."

~0~

Although the winter's day had barely started,

He met a cold, yet patient, eager throng

Of people, looking hopeful and expectant;

He hadn't thought the queue would be so early or so long.

~0~

He stepped inside, the eager masses followed;

Intrigued to find a stranger at the door.

They all filed in, doffed hats, sat down and waited;

He counted; there were twenty five; then more, and more and more...

~0~

The calm, efficient girl who manned reception,

Was told her usual boss was indisposed;

That Holmes would triage those already present,

But otherwise declare the clinic full, appointments closed.

~0~

Holmes turned around, addressed those calmly waiting;

Disclosed his lack of medical degree.

(He did not wish to threaten Watson's license. )

Their choice; to leave, or risk his ministrations, happily.

~0~

A few got up and left, postponed appointments,

To Holmes', quite undisguised, profound relief.

He studied those remaining, fingers steepled;

And hoped each consultation would be simple, and quite brief.

~0~

The morning passed, a string of diverse ailments,

But nothing, thank the stars, which threatened life.

He took a careful note of every symptom;

And, in the process, found an anxious tradesman's missing wife.

~0~

He diagnosed a rash, from occupation,

A tremor caused by excess use of ale,

The vapours, sparked by youthful indiscretion,

The part defrosted goose which sourced a gastric upset trail.

~0~

A happy hour was spent concocting potions,

Prescriptions from the past, required again.

At home amongst the scales, and lamp and test tubes,

A task in which his confidence and skill were clear and plain.

~0~

And slowly Holmes was shown a touching picture;

The depth of Watson's knowledge of disease,

The nights he'd spent defying pain and illness,

The many souls he'd helped with steady, sympathetic ease.

~0~

He learned of Watson's steadfast dedication,

The lives he'd saved and those he strove to save,

Those treated, asking no remuneration;

The skill and time and comfort he, so often, freely gave.

~0~

New mothers, harried workers told their stories;

Those stark and fearful moments he was there,

The privilege attached to troubles witnessed;

The trust which slowly builds within a good physician's care.

~0~

Holmes sat at Watson's desk, alone, and pondered

Upon the tales and anecdotes; he'd learned

A lot about his self-effacing flat mate...

A sudden interruption...Doctor Anstruther; returned!

~0~

"Materia Medica and Therapeutics",

Now back in Gladstone bag, in Baker Street.

Holmes plied his friend, now up, with tea and blankets;

Aware of one more limit, he would never get, nor beat...

~0~

A/N 2: I have an 1887 copy of the volume mentioned...and am amazed at the level of practical chemistry involved in being a physician at the time.

"I never get your limits, Watson." is a quote from "The Sussex Vampire" by ACD.

One of the elements in the Hippocratic Oath is " do no harm". An absolute basic of medical care, and surprisingly difficult to follow, with "medicines" containing the likes of opium, belladonna and arsenic...