The blind rage faded from Mr. Holmes's eyes as he saw the Doctor standing, and the men he'd taken out before I'd stumbled in. A slit of a grin cracked his thin face. The Doctor smiled back, then suddenly began coughing harshly; I winced just thinking about how painful it sounded. Mr. Holmes's face darkened.
Then he saw the hard cot in the corner and the chain attached, trailing on the flat pillow.
I'd no time for more than wondering if I was physically capable of preventing murder if it came down to it, before there was a sudden stealthy movement behind him. The Doctor's head snapped up, and with a jangling of handcuffs brought the gun he still held up to point it at a new threat. "Drop it!"
The groggy fellow scowled but let the knife clatter to the floor. I gently took the pistol from the Doctor, who sighed and held out his wrists to me.
I tried my hand-cuff key on the lock, trying to ignore Mr. Holmes (who had slammed the dazed thug against the wall, one fist knotted in the man's collar, and was demanding to know exactly what they'd done to the Doctor).
And that was the scene my constable found when he blundered in moments later. I've never seen the lad so bug-eyed.