Prompt: Holmes and/or Watson gets jealous (YoughaltheJust)
I've written plenty of Holmes being jealous about Watson's relationship with Mary, so I decided to do something different for today's prompt.
"Holmes!" I cried, as he fell to the ground, knocked over by a figure I had barely glimpsed as it passed out of the fog. I dropped to my knees beside him, searching for any indication of injury in the dark. "Holmes, are you hurt?"
He groaned, as I helped him upright on the muddy ground, doubtless winded from the sudden assault. I hoped that was all. From how he had fallen, it was not difficult to guess where the impact had struck, and I gingerly felt for a more serious wound without exposing him to the cold. He gave a hiss of pain as I touched his wrist.
"It appears that you sprained your wrist when you landed on it," I said, gently manoeuvring his hand and stretching out his fingers to see the limits of his motion. I rolled back his sleeve and pulled up his glove to expose his wrist to the cold air, and pressed it again with my muddied glove. "I know it's cold, but this should prevent it from swelling."
It was only then that I glanced up and saw that Holmes was watching me with what I almost took to be a smile teasing at his thin lips despite the discomfort.
"It is unfortunate that it takes such an incident for me to see on display your hard earned expertise," he remarked.
I shook my head and braced my arms around him to help him to his feet, one arm at his waist and the other out so that he could cling to it with his injured hand. I could see the exertion that it took him; his legs bruised and unsteady from the assault, and when he was upright, he leaned upon my shoulder, breathing heavily. Our overcoats and trousers were both worse for the wear.
"Do you feel well enough to make the journey back to the inn?" I asked.
"It is not so far a journey, and with your efforts I expect we can prevent any further damage."
I kept my arm around his waist as we took the first few careful steps back toward the inn.
As we walked, he said, "I have perhaps made a sufficient study of physiology that I might diagnose a variety of ailments, but I envy your ability to not only deduce the cause with unflappable efficiency, but to then treat the injury."
At that I protested, "You often do the same for your clients, helping them out of at times dire situations."
"I do what I can when the situation can be improved."
"It will take more than my medical knowledge to deduce what it was that struck you to prevent it from attacking another," I said.
"Perhaps, my dear Watson. Did you observe any particular features of the injury which may grant us some clue?"
"I don't know if the injury could tell more than we both saw; that you were struck forcibly by something quite solid moving at speed."
"Do not forget the sound we heard; the tinkling of a tin cowbell."
"Do you believe it was a ram?" I asked.
"I could not say." His brow was creased in thought.