From Chapter 5 of SIGN, I quote: "Oh, yes you do, McMurdo," cried Sherlock Holmes genially. "I don't think you can have forgotten me. Don't you remember that amateur who fought three rounds with you at Alison's rooms on the night of your benefit four years back?"
"Not Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" roared the prize-fighter. "God's truth! how could I have mistook you? If instead o' standin' there so quiet you had just stepped up and given me that cross-hit of yours under the jaw, I'd ha' known you without a question. Ah, you're one that has wasted your gifts, you have! You might have aimed high, if you had joined the fancy."
Four years previously would have been 1883 or 1884...early days. Was Watson present at the gathering and if so, was that the first time he'd seen Holmes boxing seriously? What was his reaction?

A/N: I used an OC I originally created for a different fandom in this, just because I'm so fond of him :)
Right when I sat down to write this my mom and my sister decided it would be an excellent time to work out to their exercise video. A plethora of fluorescent-leotard clad women with hair styled in the best traditions of the 1960s has proved to be detrimental to the thinking process. So this is too short, and not very well written, and that is entirely the fault of the fluorescent leotards. Blame them. Not me. #runs#

Doctor Jacob Ward stared at the enormous, semi-conscious man being hauled into surgery. "Don't worry, Doc, it looks worse than it is," said one of the fellows doing the hauling.

"What the devil happened to him?" Ward asked, helping to lay the man down. "It looks like he tried to pick a fight with an avalanche."

"You're close," said the other man, who happened to be Constable Gordon. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Eh?" Ward bent over his patient. He had never seen so many bruises on one person before.

"Sherlock Holmes--You know, the detective?"

"I know who Sherlock Holmes is. But I don't understand the connection between him and the excess of ecchymoses."

"This fellow's responsible for that murder of a day or two ago--you know, the pawnbroker? Sherlock Holmes tracked him down like it was nothing, though he didn't leave any traces that I could see."

"And they fought?"

"Apparently--The Doctor was armed, but this fellow rushed at Holmes before he could do anything. We were supposed to be there, actually, but he showed up earlier than Holmes reckoned, so he was on his own." Gordon grinned. "Guess Jenkins has never seen Holmes boxing."

"Boxing?" Ward sent Gordon a quizzical look. "Sherlock Holmes?"

"You read the Strand, right? Holmes can box like the best of them--he's a force to be reckoned with."

"I see." Ward continued cleaning a particularly nasty cut on the man's face. "But I daresay I consider it unlikely that our malevolent miscreant is going to follow any rules."

"Holmes' wrestling is top notch too!" said Gordon, his eyes shining. "That's how he beat Professor Moriarty!"

"Right, right." The doctor quickly set the man's broken fingers, causing him to stir and try to sit up before falling back. He was still only half conscious, but... "Er, Constable. I don't want to be a bother, but this fellow's a vicious, vindictive villain who wouldn't hesitate to rearrange my features to suit his purposes, as I see it, so perhaps putting the derbies on him...?"

"Oh, right, sorry." The young constable got to his feet. "It's just that when we got there he was on the ground all bruised up; it didn't seem like we needed them."

"I see." Ward looked the man over with a critical eye. None of the injuries had been particularly serious, but they were undoubtedly painful. Ward did not like boxing. He had tried it in school and, after a brief trial period during which he was repeatedly flattened by a seemingly endless parade of whirling fists, he decided he would never again have anything to do with the sport. He had not yet had cause to regret his decision. "He'll just need stitches for this one gash on his arm," he said, moving to the counter for morphine. "It looks pretty neatly cut--are you sure they weren't armed?"

"Well, he tried to make it through a broken window at first--"

"But Holmes was too fast or something, right," said Ward, turning back to his patient. To tell the truth, he was more than a little relieved for an excuse to give the criminal a dose of morphine. Even unconscious, he was frightening. "So how did our dexterous detective fare in all this?"

"A couple bruises--nothing serious. He's outside if you want to talk to him." Gordon gestured to the other room.

When Ward was finished he found Watson, who had apparently escaped relatively unscathed, doing his best to clean a cut on Holmes' forhead while the latter spoke with Lestrade about the case. The Inspector was looking thoroughly confused. Watson noticed Ward's entrance and went to meet him. "I trust it was nothing too serious?"

"No, no, nothing too serious, Doctor--a couple stitches, mild concussion... and of course he'll think a building fell on him when he wakes up, but that can't be helped. Happen a lot, does it?"

"Oh, well, it's a dangerous business." Watson rolled his eyes. "Although I do wish Holmes wouldn't challenge prize-fighters as a side hobby."

"He challenges prize-fighters as a side hobby?" echoed Ward. "Why?"

"It keeps him in training, I suppose." Watson smiled. "I remember a time soon after we met when he came back to Baker Street covered in bruises--I'd thought he'd been attacked by some sort of mob until he told me he'd challenged a man called McMurdo. He fought three rounds with him."

"And he won?"

"Oh yes. Holmes is an excellent boxer." Watson looked back at the detective with a mixture of pride and resignation. "Heaven knows I've patched him up after enough fights--not all of them in the line of duty, either. I wish he'd pay more attention to his health, though--when he's on a case he runs himself ragged."

"Why does he keep up with it, if it's so dangerous?"

"Holmes is the best detective in all of England, Doctor. Possibly further. If he were to stop working, it would be a great loss to law enforcement. In any case, he likes what he does--he's not going to stop for something as trivial as dangers."

"I suppose if you're dedicated enough to your profession it makes it worth the risks it comes with," said Ward.

"For him it certainly is." Watson grimaced. "If only he didn't add the extra risks by challenging professional boxers as well."

"Oh come Watson," said Holmes, joining them. "One must keep in practice--I should hope tonight's escapades proved that these skills can be invaluable."

"I'll concede to that, I suppose." Watson gazed at his friend's injuries with a critical eye. "If you're done with Lestrade we should be heading back, Holmes--I'd like the chance to properly clean that cut, and you should keep ice on your eye for a while."

Ward watched them leave. A brilliant detective he may be, but he was also only human. Holmes was the kind of person who threw himself into a situation whole-heartedly, no matter what the risks. As his name had become more widely known, more people were going to him for help--and more dangerous situations would present themselves. If there was ever a man that needed someone to keep an eye on him, it was Sherlock Holmes.

It was funny, how the world worked. Because if there was ever a man suited for keeping an eye on Sherlock Holmes, it was Doctor Watson.

A/N: I know I used the name Gordon and focused a lot on Holmes' fighting skills, but I'd just like to point out that he still is NOT the Batman. I promise. I've just... been watching Batman a lot lately. Along with the fluorescent-leotard-clad women, although that was not my fault.
Looking this over, I think Ward is a bad influence--Watson kept on slipping out of character when he was talking to him, and I don't think I really found his voice as much as I'd like to. I know this one is rather short and uninteresting, and it just sort of... throws the explanation in there, but this was the only idea I had #prods muse# #muse snores#
And, I confess, it gave me an excuse to use Doctor Ward, who I just have way too much fun with :D
I know it's very fluffy-friendshippy at the end, but I couldn't help it--if I can't think of an ending I ALWAYS turn it into fluffy friendshipness :P