Disclaimer - I do not own Holmes or Watson
Dentist
"Ow." I looked up as Holmes grimaced, and put down the apple he had been biting in to.
"Alright?" I asked, a little concerned. But I was quite ready for Holmes' reply that he was absolutely fine, thank you. He never told me if he was ill or in pain until the very last moment. Usually, I had to fathom it out for myself.
Holmes started on his cup of coffee, and visibly winced. Putting that down, he moved on to a glass of water, and again had to bite his lip to stop himself from making an exclamation.
"You know," I said without looking up from my paper, "If you tell me what is ailing you, I might be able to help."
"No. I am fine, Watson."
He stood, and moved behind me. I surreptitiously moved a very well polished silver milk jug to watch Holmes' reflection. He took up his pipe, and tried to clamp it between his teeth, but could not do so.
"Toothache?" I asked, quietly.
Holmes' reflection turned to look at me "How did you…the milk jug?"
"Yes." I turned to face him "Well? Is it?"
Holmes started to blush a deep red, and I felt a rush of sympathy for him. This was a man who hated his own physical weaknesses who was unable to eat, smoke, drink and probably sleep. I stood, moved over to where he was standing and directed him to his armchair.
"How long have you had it?"
"About four days."
"Why on earth did you not tell me before?"
"I thought it would get better…" Holmes' tone was like that of a child, and I shook my head but continued with my questions, trying to keep my voice gentle.
"How much have you eaten in the last four days?"
Holmes looked at me with one eyebrow raised "Not much."
"And drunk?"
"A couple of glasses of water…"
"No wonder you have been so weak and lethargic of late! And slept?"
"I have not."
"In four days? My Lord, Holmes. You must feel terrible."
"It has not been pleasant."
"Well, you had best let me have a look." Holmes looked up at me, embarrassed, and I placed a hand on his arm and used the tone I usually reserved for frightened children "Come, come, my dear fellow. It will be done in just a few moments." Holmes nodded and opened his mouth and I peered inside, moving his head into the light. "Alright," I said when I had done "Well, you have an infected tooth and gum. It looks…" I studied him "Like you have tried to remove the tooth yourself."
Holmes shrugged "I thought…"
"Holmes, I am a doctor for a reason. When I am here you do not need to self-medicate. This has gone beyond my skill to treat. You shall have to go to a Specialist."
"But…Watson…Can't you…"
"No," I said gently "I am a Doctor, not a Dentist."
"If you will not treat me, I will go without," Holmes said, stubbornly. But if there is one thing I can beat Holmes in, it is tenacity.
"No, Holmes. You are going to the Dentist, and I am going with you. I know a very good man, who was at medical school with me. You will like him. He will be pleased to see you. I will go into the consulting room with you, and the Operating theatre if need be." Then, more gently, I said "I did not leave you on the way to The Falls. I will not leave you now for something as small as this."
Holmes smiled ruefully "You think I am being foolish."
"Yes. I do rather. I will get your coat. Five minutes, Holmes."
I went out, hailed a cab, and we left for the Dentist's consulting rooms. A few hours later, we returned, Holmes groggy from the heavy sedative and without one tooth. He was rather sore afterwards, and was unable to speak or play the violin. Liable to get bored, I spent my time entertaining and amusing him. I was extraordinarily gratified that the first intelligible words out of his mouth after a week were "Thank you, Watson."