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The sword slashed effortlessly through Holmes’ jacket, but he did not slow. He crashed into our quarry, knocking him back. “Watson!”
I rushed forward and rapped the villain sharply over the head with the butt of my pistol. He dropped, unconscious, and I turned to Holmes. “Holmes, are you hurt?”
“Just a little slash,” he said carelessly, hand pressed to his side. “Now, Watson. Let us leave this matter to the policemen. It is time to travel home.”
After a wave to Lestrade, he set off at a brisk pace. I fell in step beside him, suspicious. “Why are we going this way? It takes more time to travel home by this route.”
“Well observed, my dear fellow. You are well acquainted with the city.” Holmes had gone pale, but he gave me a small, sardonic smile. “Perhaps that ought to be your next subject of writing. You could publish a walking guide with travel time included, the pedestrian equivalent to Bradshaw’s Railway Guide.”
I knew Holmes too well to be distracted by any jibe, and waited only until we were out of sight of the police and other onlookers before I caught his arm and stopped him. “That’s far enough. Let me see the ‘little slash”.”
“Ah! Again, well done.” Holmes sighed and yielded. “Yes, Watson. I would not have anyone but you see me in a weakened condition.”
“If you had passed out from blood loss, many would have seen you.”
“I am not such a fool as that. I have kept pressure on my wound all the time.”
“It is likely the only reason you’re still standing, but if nothing else, I must bandage it before we hail a cab.” I have always believed in being prepared, and urged him to sit before I peeled his arm away from his side.
Even with pressure on the wound, blood had soaked through Holmes’ damaged clothes. I swiftly parted the fabric and examined the injury, then inhaled sharply.
It was indeed a slash, but not a little one. It had laid open Holmes’ side just below the ribs. Blood flowed freely now.
I retrieved the bandages that I carried at all times for situations such as this, and added my jacket to the area besides. “It should not be able to soak through this, even bleeding as badly as it is,” I said. “But you were right about one thing.”
“I am often right about many things,” he said, eyes sparkling with mirth. He gave a silent laugh, then winced.
I rolled my eyes and finished my bandaging, then clasped his hand. “At the moment, you are right that it is time to travel home. You will be in for stitches once we arrive.”
“At least there is no better man for the job.” His hand quivered in mine, but he smiled faintly at me again. “I put myself fully in your care, Doctor. I shall follow your instructions, and be meek as a lamb.”
I doubted that very much. Holmes had a mischievous streak, and he very much enjoyed his little games. But at least he couldn’t run off on another case yet.
The clatter of a cab’s wheels echoed down the street. I flagged it down, then helped Holmes up and inside.
He made a quiet noise of pain, leaning against me as the cab set off for Baker Street. “Thank you, Watson. You are, as ever, a most trusty companion.”
I smiled and squeezed his hand. “It is my honor.”
It would not take us much time to travel home, not by cab, and I took advantage of the brief trip to close my eyes. Once we returned, my skills would be needed yet again. I would tend to Holmes’ “little slash”, and then we could truly rest and celebrate another successful outing.