He was dazed, but not out, from the blow, though he could count his pulse rate in the throbbing of his head. Despite his desperation to remain conscious, he missed a golden opportunity for continuing the fight, due to a sudden wave of dizziness.
Hiswrists were released from the bed, but not the handcuffs. He was hauled unceremoniously to his very wobbly feet and gripped by his bad shoulder and arm with enough pressure that he knew not to move if he did not want to continue the spiral into unconsciousness from the pain.
Outside he heard shouting, and a door slammed; Holmes must indeed have them panicking. Good man. Though he doubted he would be in time now.
The leader here had said he did not want him killed, because Holmes would immediately come after them with a vengeance; rather, just badly enough injured that his friend did not dare leave him until he knew if he would live. Sadistic indeed, but an unfortunately accurate assessment of them.
Once his knees had turned from water back to flesh and blood, the room suddenly righted itself, and he perceived the hazy figure of his jailor coming at him with that syringe again.
He wagered that the fellow's wrist had never been on the receiving end of a rugby drop-kick before.