I lay on the ground and eased out of my ammonite impression, slowly. I was sure immediately that I had broken several things. Watson knelt down next to me and peered at my face anxiously. He ignored the rag that held copious amounts of my blood from my nose.
"Watson, my rib's broken," I said after a moment. His fingers shook as he undid my buttons.
"Are you all right to sit up, do you think?"
"Yes." I heaved myself up so I was cross-legged. It hurt. My friend's eyes looked wounded themselves for a moment as he opened my shirt to reveal purpled skin under my greying chest hair. I felt very old for a moment, seeing at myself under Watson's tanned hands. I was brought of my reverie by a fierce sigh from Watson.
"You're right, Holmes. We must get you home. I can't believe this has happened…" He looked up at me and wiped my face with his shirt cuff, giving me an intense look of fear, as if he thought me too fragile to touch. Then he straightened my collar, quivering. I didn't feel patronised. I knew he was trying to shield my pride. Then he surprised me with an action so remorseful and tender I couldn't move for a moment. His hands gripped my upper arms and his head collapsed into my shoulder, holding me quite close.
Uncomfortable as I was initially at this awkwardly positioned embrace, I was stirred by a feeling of genuine affection for the man I'd known longer than I hadn't. I was slow to remove his warm hands from me. "Watson, we should go." He stood up and helped me, then for the smallest of moments looked at his coat. It didn't have the notebook in it. But had I blinked, I would not have seen. Instead, he held his head high and slipped his arm through mine and we began to walk out onto Oxford Street.
I hesitated a moment. "Watson, you don't have your pocketbook."
"We'll get it back. And if not, I'll write some new stories anyway." He pulled me along, looking down for a moment before meeting my eyes.
"I'm ashamed of myself," I muttered. It was true.
Watson's stride went out of pace with my own for a second, and his mouth opened slightly as he considered. "I'm proud of you," he said, and he pulled his arm around mine tighter before he spotted a cab with our name on it.