Chapter 15: Fresh Wounds

What happened next is all in a blur. Like everything was twisted and mixed up into a swirling, dizzying nightmare. The only pieces I could remember were jumbled up. I remember Sherlock putting pressure on my wound with his hand. He kept telling me to "hold on" and that "I was going to be alright." It's a shame I can barely remember these moments as my friend was not really known for being sentimental or emotional - though this case seemed to prove that statement otherwise. The next thing I remember I was waking up in a hospital bed. I looked over at the side of my bed and Mary was sitting in a chair. Dressed in a beige dress with lovely white lace, her presence was a delightful sight. She quickly got up and came over to me and patted my forehead lovingly.

"Oh John! Thank heavens you are awake!" She said, tears filling her eyes.

"Mary…" I said, my voice still weak. "What happened?"

"You were shot. A man known as Purvis was recently taken in by Scotland Yard. They are currently interrogating him on his connections to Raffles."

I opened my mouth to ask more questions but Mary interrupted.

"That is all Sherlock told me to tell you."

I tried to sit up but my strength felt as though it had been depleted. Mary put a hand to me and slowly pushed me back down in bed. "He's fine," she said as if she could read my mind.

"As soon as we knew you were going to pull through, he told me he had business back at the Yard. He'll most likely return to Baker Street no doubt." I heard a bit of disdain in her voice. "You are in no condition to go anywhere at the moment. A bullet was removed from you after all."

I was shocked by this statement. I thought for sure I had just been grazed, but there was no telling whose bullet it was in the chaos Holmes and I had faced that night. Curse Purvis! Is there anyone in England that Raffles doesn't have a connection with! Mary poured some water into a glass and dipped a cold rag into it. She then walked over to me and placed a cool rag on my head. It felt so nice. Though I had no fever, just her delicate touch was enough to seem to make my pain a bit better.

"You are a true gem my dear," I said with a smile.

"I'm going to get some fresh air darling…you just rest," she said with a quick kiss on the forehead.

After she left the room, the pain in my lower side seemed to increase. Not to a level that was intolerable but just enough for me to be extremely sore. As I lay on my back staring up at the ceiling I wondered just how on Earth I was going to rest with so many questions running through my mind. A.J. Raffles was much more cunning and clever than I expected him to be. A formidable opponent. How I wish Holmes and I could catch him but at what cost? The cost of my life or my friend's life? Maybe William was right. Maybe Holmes and I should just leave this to them. I knew how badly my friend wanted to catch him and possibly end him - but the toll I noticed it taking on Holmes was beginning to be more than I could bare. Seeing him viciously and violently beat up a man out of anger was a sight I never thought I'd see. The anger was understandable but the cold, calculating, and rational man was slowly becoming a shell of a man I once knew. My mind had been made. As soon as I was able to get out of this god forsaken bed I had to talk to Sherlock.