The Warning, Chapter the Fifth.

Watson's POV

…..It was happening again. It shouldn't have been, but it was. I

was walking out to the waiting room in blessed ignorance of the

events that were about to occur. All I could do was watch the scene

unfolding before my eyes. The doctor in my dreams did not heed

my shouts.....I was destined to witness the hideous event again, it

seemed.

My attacker and I both fell, and I saw myself struggling on my

table. I/he strained against those cruel bonds, but it was useless.

The air was heavy with a sense of apprehension as my shirt was cut

off of me. We exchanged words, and my captor crossed to the other

side of the table.....when he started to.....when he cut into my flesh, I

think we, both of us screamed.

Holmes was at my side in less time than it takes to say so.

"Watson, you are all right now. It is over." He sat on the bed

facing me and drew me to him. One hand slipped around to my

back, but quickly and fluidly repositioned itself on my upper arm.

He rubbed my arm with one hand, and held me to him with the

other, gently rocking me back and forth. When my shaking stopped,

or at least slowed down to his satisfaction, he held me at arm's

length and appraised me seriously.

He sat me back against the pillows that he had wordlessly picked

up from the floor {along with most of the bedclothes.} I could hear

something being poured in the next room, and he reappeared by my

side with two glasses of brandy. He held one out to me, and I took it

eagerly. I noticed that Holmes' eyebrows rose just a bit when I

drained the glass in one gulp, but said nothing. He sat down by me

and waited for me to compose myself.

Just then, something from that nightmare pushed its way to the

forefront of my attention.

"Holmes, I remember now! Something that just might help in

some small way!" I no longer felt like a useless victim, and, by

thunder, it was wonderful!

"What is it, my dear chap? Are you sure that you want to discuss

this now?"

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Holmes, he had a hobble. When

I saw his shoes, it was obvious to me that he had had one of them

built up. And from the shape of it, it was a custom-made shoe!" The

words just spilled out of me in my excitement. "So now we know

that we are looking for someone who is wealthier than the working-

class brute that he appeared to be. And that also means that someone

somewhere has a record of that shoe being made!"

"Excellent, old man, excellent! Anything else?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but is that enough for a starting-point?

Surely something can come out of it?" I did not want to think that I

was an unwilling witness to such nocturnal events for nothing.

" Yes, old chap, it will make a very good starting-point, actually.

I'll use that information in my investigation of this debacle, but that

will have to wait until tomorrow."

He saw the unspoken beginnings of anxiety in my eyes, and

disappeared into the next room again. When he came back, he was

carrying a pillow and an afghan. He settled himself in the chair by

the bed, put his feet up on said bed, and turned to me.

"Now get some rest. I have seen you stifle at least four yawns,

and I know that you must be tired." He drew the afghan around his

shoulders. "Rest now, and dream of Mrs. Hudson's cooking. She

will be returning tomorrow, you know."

I did relax, and fell into a {thankfully} dreamless sleep.

A/N : Thanks for all the support, and all of the reviews. I really

enjoyed them, and I hope that you are enjoying this story as much.