From Madam'zelleG: Physician, heal thyself
Watson grimaced, pulling the tourniquet more tightly around his arm before tying it off. This case had not turned out like they had thought.
It had seemed like a fairly straightforward case of a man trying to cheat his daughter out of her inheritance, something so simple that Holmes would not have bothered with it if it had not come after many long weeks without a case. Even then, it was only at Watson's exhortation that he had agreed at all, something that Watson was now regretting.
As it had turned out, when they had gone to the house of the man, Mr McCline, he had not handed over the papers as Holmes had supposed he would. Instead, he had drawn a pistol from the table nearby and begun to wave it around, ranting about his deceased wife and how heartbroken she would be for her daughter to be running away from her loving parents. In his delusions, he seemed to have forgotten that his daughter was now twenty six, and far from running away, was leaving to marry a man who lived just three houses down the street.
Holmes had tried to talk to him, and point out the many signs that his daughter loved him, but was now grown with a life of her own, only the man wouldn't hear a word of it. Each word only distressed him more, until he aimed the pistol in Holmes' direction, and fired.
Watson had barely managed to push him aside in time. The bullet ended up missing Holmes entirely, but did catch Watson in the upper arm, causing the very wound that Watson was now bandaging.
"At least this should almost be over. Surely the sound of the gunshot should alert the neighbours that something has happened here," Watson whispered to Holmes, who was hovering at his shoulder with something very close to anxiety.
Holmes shook his head, eyes sparking with fury. "Letters were piling up at the doorways. There's no one home, most likely due to the awful heat in this neighbourhood. They would have gone to the seaside."
"And not Mr McCline?" Watson whispered back, trying to distract himself from the pain in his arm. The bullet had hit him in the same arm as his previous bullet wound from Afghanistan, which at least meant he still had one good arm, but also left him with an ache in his shoulder to match the shooting pains radiating out from the new injury. As a doctor, he knew that he needed help soon or he would run the risk of losing use of that arm entirely.
"He would not have wanted to leave his daughter alone so long, in case she find the papers and leaves him."
"His wife is already gone, he will not accept his daughter leaving too," Watson breathed, a feeling of kinship rising within him. He knew the pain that losing a loved one could bring. Holmes nodded to confirm his hypothesis. Watson struggled to his feet. "Then let me talk to him."
Holmes aided him upright, concerned. "Watson, this man is dangerous."
"I'm not dangerous!" McCline said loudly, obviously overhearing Holmes' less than careful words. "I would never hurt Eliza, I just want her to be safe! That's what Sophia would have wanted."
"And you want Eliza to be happy, don't you?" Watson asked. "Because that's what Sophia would have wanted. I'm sure Sophia must have loved your daughter very much."
McCline's pistol wavered, the man blinking heavily. "There was no better mother than my Sophia. She loved Eliza more than anything."
Watson took a careful step closer, Holmes shadowing him. "And now she's gone, and you don't want Eliza to leave too. When my Mary died, I would have done anything to keep some part of her with me. But will this make Eliza happy?"
The pistol dropped further. "She's all I have," McCline pleaded. "I can't lose her."
Watson took another step closer, blinking back the darkness that was beginning to encroach on his vision. They needed to end this quickly. "You won't lose her, not unless you continue like this. You need to put down the pistol, Mr McCline. You won't lose her as long as you put that down." He held out his hand for the weapon.
McCline hesitated for a moment, then handed the pistol over to Watson. Watson smiled at him. "Your daughter loves you, Mr McCline. Even getting married won't change that."
McCline nodded, wiping roughly at his eyes.
Watson turned back to Holmes, who was still standing just a half-step behind him. He handed Holmes the pistol. "My dear friend, could you hold on to this for a moment? I need to sit down."