"Holmes! Where do you think you're going?"

"I am perfectly fine, Watson!" Holmes argued. "And it's a compliment to you! You have done a wonderful job patching me up, this splint is quite sturdy, the painkiller has kicked in, and there is work to be done!" Now be good enough to get me my walking stick, won't you? I'm feeling a bit unsteady."

"Holmes! Sit down, man! Of course you're feeling unsteady; the sprain to your ankle is severe, and you are quite lucky indeed that it is not broken. If you insist on tramping about London so soon after your injury, you will risk doing yourself further damage. That's in addition to the fact your stability is severely compromised, as you yourself have mentioned. Don't you imagine the slick mud which felled you to begin with will be doubly an obstacle now? A few days of rest, Holmes. That's all you require for the swelling to go down and for the mud outside to dry."

"The work, man!" Holmes cried. "The work! That is all there is for me in this world, Watson. I've already wasted hours because of my ankle. How can I stay still any more whilst the business of the James Street poisonings goes unsolved? I am no crippled layabout. The injury is not so severe that I can't push through it to do my duty."

Watson straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. "Very well," he said tersely. "If that's the way you feel about it, then do as you like and I will not attempt to help you."

Holmes' eyes narrowed, then went wide as he realized what he'd said to the doctor. Watson himself was only just back on his feet after spending several days in the living room, his leg wound causing him too much pain for any excursions out. He had been forced to witness the Lord St. Simon marriage case, which Holmes had successfully investigated, from the confines of his chair even though he'd wanted to help. Holmes had been patient and kind, even ensuring the case ended in Baker Street so Watson could be there at the denoumount. Now, his words had been cruel and he knew it, unintentional though it had been. He'd been thinking only of himself, and he hoped his friend could see that.

"Watson," Holmes said, "it was an unworthy remark. Please, forget I said anything of the kind."

Watson nodded. "As your doctor," he replied cooly, "I insist you rest. As your colleague, as you often call me, I will go in your stead to investigate and will bring you news of what I find. From this information, you will solve the case from your armchair as I've seen you do for many other clients. If you cannot, we will go out together to see if we can't put the case to rest. Is this fair?"

Holmes hesitated, then sighed, then sank back into his chair, propping his injured foot by the fire with a wince. "Of course, Watson. Give me a moment, and I will compile a complete agenda for you of all I would have done. By now, I'm sure, the police are quite aware of your role as my colleague. If they doubt that you are acting on my behalf, set them straight." He grinned very slightly.

"I won't let you down," Watson said seriously.

"I have neveer doubted it," Holmes answered. "And Watson… thank you, my friend."

Finally, Watson grinned slightly back at him. "Of course. Rest, Holmes. I will return soon, and then you will once again prove to the world why you are the world's foremost consulting detective."

For the prompt from cjnwriter: Holmes has badly sprained his ankle and Watson needs to convince him to rest it.