I jumped to my feet as the heavy door creaked open with a rattling of iron bars. It swung open and a limp figure was roughly shoved into the room.
I managed to catch Watson before he hit the floor, the raucous laughter of the two guards ringing in my ears. I half-dragged, half-carried him over to the lone cot and laid him on it, eliciting a choked cry of pain from my friend.
I clenched my jaw, trying my best to clean the blood off his face with my handkerchief. He hissed in pain as I touched a sore area checking for broken bones, his dim eyes finally flickering open, fastening upon my face.
"H-Holmes?"
"Shh, it's all right, my dear fellow – just lie quiet."
"N-no, listen," he gasped, clutching frantically at my arm.
"What is it, old chap?"
"They – used a bottle – I – I fell and – grabbed – a chunk of glass," he gasped out.
I smiled sadly which he weakly returned, and I drew the shard from his pocket, setting it on the floor.
"Sorry – I – won't be – much help," he whispered, clenching his fists.
I jerked my head up as footsteps drew near and the door began to be unlocked again. I squeezed Watson's shoulder and snatched the shard, placing myself behind the door, ready to do battle.