He blinked in confusion, and started to grip Holmes's arm to ask what in heaven's name he was talking about – only to be pulled up short by the horrid jangling of steel upon his abused wrists.
"Stop," Holmes ordered gently as he took his hands and laid them back upon his chest. "I have to get them off you and I don't have my smaller tools with me."
"Erm…is this one of them, sir?"
The constable…what was his name?...had found the strip of metal beside the cot while yanking the thin blanket off it. He quickly brought both items over to the detective, who snatched the former with a growled word of thanks.
"What exactly were you doing with this?" Holmes asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Constable, would you like to learn how to open a pair of spring-release handcuffs, or shall you continue to stand there looking awkward?"
Watson smiled faintly as the young man blushed and hastily busied himself tucking the blanket round the Doctor's legs. "Trying to escape, Holmes. Not as good as you are with it, obviously," he murmured, turning his head away as a hoarse cough escaped after the words.
Holmes gave a small snort and settled on his knees and inspected the handcuff-lock, his thin lips tightening dangerously at the sight of the abused skin beneath.