John Watson woke with a start, his chest heaving. Stabbing pain shot through his bad leg with the slightest movement, making him wince. He let out a soft cry because he thought he was alone, and a moment later his face flushed red with embarrassment because he realized he wasn't.
Mrs. Hudson made a noise of sympathy, but there was no pity in her gaze when she looked at him. "Dear Doctor Watson," she said, "this hasn't been a very good week for you, has it?"
"It's no one's fault," Watson grunted. "I.. ah! Damn! Oh, sorry, Mrs. Hudson…"
"Don't you worry, dear. I'm no delicate flower who will shrink away from a bit of language from a wounded man. Neither will I let attempt to bamboozle me into thinking you're not a wounded man like you were just about to. I may not be a master of the science of deduction, but I know a bit about the world. You may be charming, Doctor, but you can't charm me."
"I'd never have tried," Watson assured her with a smile.
"There you go again, but it won't work. Not on me, and not on your young lady. Ms. Mary Morstan is every bit as masterly as any great woman, and she'll see through you right enough. If you're a wise man, you'll let her into your confidence completely. No lies about when you're not alright."
"Mrs. Hudson…"
"Now, now, Doctor, don't put on an act with me. You'll not be my lodger for much longer, and so I've no care if I offend you. I'll say what I think you need to hear."
Watson sighed. "Very well, Mrs. Hudson. I suppose I don't mind telling you. Yes, this has been a bad week for me. The wounded leg's been acting up, and the whole dark business Mr. Holmes is investigating has upset me."
"Oh, dear. He's left you behind again, has he?"
"He's left me behind again. I have to hear news of the case from him when he returns, and it's so... terrible. It's not his fault, of course. Leaving me behind, I mean. He's got no other options, what with me confined to this chair most of the day."
"That's no excuse to tell you sordid news and then abandon you," Mrs. Hudson huffed.
"I'm more upset that he invited me to a dinner at Marcinis and then went without me when he saw I was asleep," Watson replied, trying to make light of it.
Mrs. Hudson smiled back. "You're quite right. And the cheek of him to say that some restraunt's food is better than mine! Now that's unforgivable! Although, Doctor, I doubt it's why you've been yelling in your sleep."
Watson looked away. "No." He didn't elaborate.
"Is there anything that will cheer you?" she asked softly.
Finally, he looked back at her and grinned very slightly. "You know, Mrs. Hudson, I can think of one thing…"
"That smells wonderful, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock Holmes called, throwing his hat and coat on their peg and bounding up the stairs. He threw the door open, and paused, blinking in surprise.
"Oh, Holmes," Watson said, sitting back from the table. "We thought you'd eaten."
Holmes surveyed the empty dishes with dismay. "You didn't save me anything?" he asked. He grabbed an empty dish, examining it closely as if he somehow could deduce his way into more food appearing. He looked at the other dishes. "You had a dinner of all my favorites and didn't leave me anything? You didn't even wait for me? And you, too, Mrs. Hudson?"
Watson shrugged. Mrs. Hudson sipped her water. Holmes frowned, sitting glumly. "I suppose some cold meats and cheeses will do for tonight," he murmured.
Mrs. Hudson passed him some.
He was sulking as he made his sandwich, and Watson and Mrs. Hudson exchanged a look.
"Frankly I didn't think you'd deign to eat with us," Watson said.
Holmes looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"Whatever new friends you join at Marcinis without me will, I'm sure, be happy to have you," Watson said.
"And I'm sure you'll enjoy the food more," Mrs. Hudson quipped.
Holmes pushed his chair backwards and threw up his hands. "Very well!" he exclaimed. "I am guilty as charged! I throw myself at the mercy of the court! I did not think one dinner and a careless comment would cause me such scorn!" He glanced at Watson, a very brief smile playing across his lips.
"Swear to make it right," Watson proclaimed in judgment, "and you shall be absolved."
Holmes turned to Mrs. Hudson. "I shall never, unless it is to the good future Mrs. Watson, proclaim anyone's food to be on the same level as yours, though I shall reserve the right to praise other meals as excellent. Is this acceptable?"
She nodded, and he turned to Watson. "I shall never again retract an invitation to dine together without communicating why to you, and if you are asleep I shall either wait for you to wake or rouse you to ask if you're still coming. Although, during the course of an investigation, I shall reserve the right to change potential plans quickly. Is this acceptable?"
Watson nodded, too. On cue, both Watson and Mrs. Hudson revealed the dishes they'd hidden away beneath the table. Holmes leaped forward with a cry of satisfaction, snatching the food as if it would vanish away.
Watson smiled, then laughed, then Mrs. Hudson joined him. Holmes tried very hard not to be amused, but it was only a moment or two later that he joined in as well.
When dinner was over and they sat warm and comfortable by the fire, Holmes apologized once more.
"I really am sorry about going without you, Watson. You were dead asleep, however, and I… well, I suppose I wanted to give you some privacy. You see…"
"I was screaming," Watson finished for him with a sigh.
"Not quite," Holmes said quickly. "It was more like gasping." He looked away in embarassment, realizing that the clarification had not been helpful.
"Holmes, I'm sorry. I should have gone to my room and…"
"No!"
Holmes' interjection was so vehement it startled Watson, making the doctor jump and then wince in pain when his leg was jostled.
"I mean," Holmes said, shooting Watson an apologetic glance, "that no, you shouldn't have to sequester yourself away. I told you when I met you that I would never think being injured for queen and country is something to be ashamed of. You will, of course, have privacy whenever you wish it, but I will not make you feel you have to hide. Moreover, you warned me from the first that your nerves were shaken. I shouldn't, therefore, have told you what horrors I am investigating without letting you be a part of the case or see the result of it all. For this, also, I apologize, Watson."
"It's not your fault," Watson assured him. "I don't know why I let it depress me like this. I've seen more horrors with my own eyes than you've ever described to me. Somehow, though, it overtakes me at times, especially when I'm confined here because of my old injuries."
Holmes frowned, but seemed to understand. "Music?" he asked.
Watson nodded. "That would be delightful. Thank you."
"Oh, and Watson?"
"Yes?"
Holmed grinned at him. "Next time I do something you disagree with, I do hope you will tell me and not jump straight to revenge. After all, if you were ever truly against me, I'm not sure I could best you."
Watson grinned too, and, as that was what Holmes had been aiming for, he was content. He lifted his violin and began to play. Gilbert and Sullivan really wasn't his taste, but as it was a concert for Watson he decided it wasn't so bad after all.
For the prompt from trustingHim17: Watson needs a little revenge on Holmes. What does he do?