I bit back a cry of agony and tugged at the knot again; this time it loosened and I jerked hard on the rope, feeling it release enough for my arms to slip through. I gasped as my wounded shoulder protested – it was bleeding again – and bent to untie my ankles.
Suddenly I heard pounding footsteps outside my prison – they were coming back early!
I stumbled over behind the door, determined to go down fighting.
I tackled the man, crying out as the impact sent a blinding pain through my body. Suddenly I found myself pinned down, a familiar voice speaking gently.
"Easy, Watson, it's all right!"
I stopped struggling, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
"H-Holmes."
He gasped sharply as his hand on my shoulder grew wet with blood. The pressure made me cry out and try to move away, but he held me still, pressing his handkerchief to the wound I had clumsily bandaged after I'd been attacked.
"How – did you find me?" I whispered.
Holmes detailed a long string of deductions in a soothing voice, tightening his grip reassuringly as I choked on the pain.
Finally, exhausted, I slumped back against him, managing a smile at his white face.
"Sorry for tackling you like that," I whispered.
Holmes smiled fondly.
"Always a man of action, is my Boswell."