Note to readers: I DID have this done before PGF published her boxing fic - I swear it and she can attest to it. I HAD IT DONE ALREADY, I don't steal from other writers...specially if they have my email addresses like she does...
"No, no, Watson. Keep leaving your chin open like that and you're liable to get knocked from here to Euston Station. Keep your fists up."
"Holmes, this is insanity!"
"It might save your life one day. Keep that left up, Watson! Remember the Davies-Stockton case? If I hadn't managed to neutralise the three men holding you, you'd have been killed right there."
"You've never let me forget that."
"I'm only bringing it up as an example of how skill can triumph over numbers. Now, try again."
I sighed, bringing my guard up again as Holmes circled me, continuing his attempt to teach me some boxing techniques. I had endured my share of fisticuffs, but my success was due more to experience and bulk than actual skill.
He jabbed half-heartedly at my head, allowing me to clumsily block, then swung in a sweeping right. This I managed to block and send a light blow of my own following.
I dodged another jab, trying to return it, failing to see the blow aimed at my face that sent me sprawling.
"All right, old fellow? I thought you were going to block it," Holmes asked worriedly, extending a hand to me as I got slowly to my feet, rubbing my jaw gingerly.
"Why couldn't we do something normal together, like chess, Holmes? Why boxing?"