From One Sentence Stories chapter 5: Eye

There was nothing wrong with my eyes, but there was something wrong with my eyes.

I shook out the match and tossed it into the fireplace, blinking hard. My eyes watered as I had intended them to, but approximately an hour after waking, I still could not register anything besides darkness. I ignored the burn on my fingers as I forced myself to acknowledge the truth.

I was blind.

Our most recent case had ended at the docks, and I had sustained a minor concussion when our target had slammed me against the rail while trying to escape. Holmes had helped me treat it when we got home, but something had gone wrong in the night. The heat coming through the window put the time at around nine in the morning, yet I could see nothing but fuzzy outlines in a fog of darkness.

I clenched the bed as I forced down the panic that wanted to form at the inky blackness surrounding me. I had never liked not knowing my surroundings—a side effect of my time in Afghanistan—and knowing that I was in my room did nothing for the vulnerability I felt at being unable to see, but getting frustrated with my lack of sight would do nothing except bring Mrs. Hudson up asking questions I had no wish to answer; I had to decide what I wanted to do before someone came to see why I had not yet left my room. I could ask for help, I supposed, though I never liked announcing an injury, even one Holmes could treat. Holmes would know no more about this than I did, but, conceivably, I could ask him or Mrs. Hudson to send for another doctor.

I doubted another doctor would be able to help, though. All he would tell me would be to get plenty of rest and give it time.

If another doctor would not be able to help, then there was no reason to send for one. As I had no wish to announce the problem until I had to, that really left me with only one option: avoid both Holmes and Mrs. Hudson until I had relearned the flat. Holmes would probably know as soon as he saw me, but I had heard him leave just after I woke. I would have a few hours before he returned, at least, and that might give me time to adjust enough to hide the signs. If I could avoid detection in the first couple of days, there was a chance the problem would fix itself as the concussion healed, and I would not have to tell them at all. I would tolerate the trouble of dealing with it by myself if it meant I could avoid some of the inevitable fussing that would commence as soon as they found out.

My biggest challenge would be getting around. I did not dare try to go outside for a while, but I would need to learn how to navigate the flat by orientation to and number of paces from various pieces of furniture. Harry and I had done that many times as children, and Holmes had dragged me out of bed for a midnight case often enough; it couldn't be much more difficult to do it now, when I truly could not see.

I stood, took a single step toward the door, and immediately barked my shin on the end table.

Alright, so while it might not be difficult, it certainly would not be easy.

Remembering I had left my longest cane near my bed a few nights before, I knelt and felt the floor, looking for it. I only knocked it away once before managing to grab it, and I held it in front of me, more to keep from tripping than for balance—though I used it for that, too, occasionally. I had never noticed how much I used my sight for balance until I could no longer see, but I set to learning my bedroom before Mrs. Hudson came up to investigate the noise.

If the number of bruises I had in the space of a quarter of an hour was any indication, this was going to be a long day.