Work Text:
Watson supposed the situation could have been worse. He hadn’t been tortured at least, merely punched and then kicked during the fight. He wasn’t really hurt, save for some bruises and scrapes, and now the raw skin on his wrists from struggling to escape handcuffs.
Still, he was currently locked up in a garden shed with little chance of escape. Had he been bound with rope, he might have been able to saw through it with the tools at hand. As it stood, though…
No, he was quite stuck. Quite stuck, and quite useless to Holmes.
He struggled against the handcuffs again, then stopped with a wince as skin began to tear. No, he had little luck of managing that, unless he dislocated or broke his thumb, and then he’d still be quite useless.
His stomach twisted with the shame of it, and he swallowed hard. He ought to be there right now, reporting back to Holmes, but instead he’d let himself get captured. He couldn’t even get out of it on his own. He’d simply have to wait until Holmes rescued him.
Sighing, he glanced out the window. The sun had declined in the sky quite a bit since he was captured. Perhaps Holmes was still waiting for him to return? Waiting, and getting increasingly frustrated that he hadn’t returned, most likely. He’d have no idea—
Gunshots rang out, and Watson shoved to his feet. He perhaps ought to have made himself smaller instead, but he stretched, trying to see out the window. Was it Holmes? Was he winning?
Before long, Holmes’ familiar figure rushed along the path towards the garden shed, gun still in one hand and cane in the other. He twitched a quick smile, waving his cane at Watson through the window, and jogged the rest of the way.
“Watson?” he called from outside. “Stand back. I have little wish to accidentally shoot you.”
“Take care, Holmes!” Swallowing hard, Watson peered out the window again. At least if he could keep an eye out for enemies, he’d be somewhat useful. “There’s quite a lot of those awful men out there, at least four.”
“Well, there are five bodies now, so it is likely that I have eliminated them.” One more gunshot rang out, and with the lock destroyed, Holmes kicked the door open. He inhaled sharply, gaze raking across Watson. “Dear me.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks, old man.” Watson smiled, stomach twisting with guilt again. “Just a few bruises and such. I’m sorry I wasn’t… that I didn’t come back. I know you were counting on me.”
“What matters is that you’re all right,” Holmes said softly, dropping to one knee with his lock picking tools in hand. He set to work, and Watson winced as the metal scraped against raw skin. “Besides, you provided an excellent distraction!”
Watson snorted. “Glad to have been of some help, even if only in my uselessness.”
“You’re never useless, my boy. Ah!” With a growl of satisfaction, Holmes unfastened the handcuffs and let them drop to the floor. He stood, took Watson by the hands, and gazed at him with startling intensity. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
The knot of guilt in Watson’s stomach eased at the concern in those keen eyes, and the slight tremor in Holmes’ hands. Odd, perhaps, that his worry would be reassuring, and yet it was. Holmes certainly didn’t think of him as useless, and had gone to great lengths to get him back.
Managing a shaky smile, Watson nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Holmes.”
Holmes flicked a smile of acknowledgement, still searching his face. Then, quite abruptly, he seized Watson in a hug and held him close.
It was such a tight hug that it almost hurt, but in the best way. Watson sank into the embrace, closing his eyes. Today had been quite awful, but now that he was with Holmes again, he was quite sure that everything would be all right—particularly once they returned home.
---
They hadn’t been able to go home immediately, as much as Watson would have liked to. There had still been rather a lot of the case to tidy up, particularly once Lestrade arrived. The inspector was quite shocked to discover that Holmes had shot all five of the villains, although he certainly couldn’t protest that it had been excessive once he saw Watson’s condition.
Holmes had insisted that Watson sit down inside the house while the case was concluded, and then at the earlier possible moment, commandeered a carriage and horses from the stables outside. As Watson was really feeling quite terrible by this point, he went along with gratitude.
“I shall send the horses and carriage to the stables near Baker Street once I have finished borrowing them,” Holmes called back over his shoulder to a rather astonished Lestrade. “Thank you!”
Watson chuckled, then winced and hugged an arm across his sore ribs. He was certainly feeling the fight rather more now, and the movement of the carriage only worsened the aches. “Lestrade was certainly not expecting you to steal a carriage.”
“Borrow,” Holmes said primly.
“He was certainly not expecting you to borrow a carriage, either.” Watson leaned against Holmes’ shoulder, weary. “I’m a bit surprised myself.”
“Well, I had no intention of wandering the streets in search of a cab when I had spotted a perfectly satisfactory and available means of transportation during my reconnaissance.” A brief smile flitted across Holmes’ face, although there was still a certain tension in his shoulders. Worry, no doubt. “I presume you saw it earlier as well.”
“Yes, indeed.” Watson’s reconnaissance had not gone particularly well, and he had to shake his head at himself again. “I didn’t expect to get so swiftly caught, though. I’m afraid I’m not terribly good at sneaking around, even if I do make a good distraction.”
“Mm.” Holmes’ fingers shifted on the lines, and then he sighed before urging the horses on slightly faster. “I am exceedingly sorry that they hurt you, Watson. I admittedly feel somewhat responsible.”
“It’s not your fault, old man,” Watson said despite the knowledge that it would do little good when Holmes felt guilty. “I gladly volunteered to go along.”
“I know, yet I shall feel better once I have tended your wounds.”
Watson was quite ready for that himself, and it was a great relief when they arrived at Baker Street. He accepted Holmes’ help out of the carriage, as well as his supportive arm while Holmes flagged down one of the older Irregulars to take the horses and carriage to the nearest mews. Then, thankfully, they went inside.
“I’ll be glad of dinner,” Watson says, wincing as Holmes helped him to sit in his armchair. “I seem to have worked up something of an appetite.”
Holmes snorted and shook his head as he retrieved Watson’s medical bag, then dug through it for disinfectant. “Well, at least I need not worry too much about you if you still have a robust appetite.”
Despite the pain, Watson chuckled. “Yes, it’s quite robust. In fact, I should not say no to a snack before then.”
“Good old Watson.” Holmes flicked a smile at him. “I shall see to your wounds, and then acquire a snack for you. But first, brandy.”
That sounded quite wonderful, particularly as Holmes was quite competent in tending to wounds. Watson was able to simply sit back, wincing occasionally as something stung or burned. He really was quite uncomfortable, despite the brandy. It seemed that he’d been battered somewhat more than he realized.
“Dear me, this skin on your wrists is quite torn,” Holmes murmured, shaking his head as he dabbed at the bloody scrapes. “Bandages for these, I believe, unless it would be an unpleasant reminder of the handcuffs.”
Watson smiled at the consideration. “That’ll be fine, old man. Thank you.”
“Mm.” Gently, Holmes bandaged Watson’s wrists, then gathered his hands and held them with care. Again, he met Watson’s gaze with that startling intensity, the one that left Watson quite breathless. “I hope you know that I would have done anything necessary in order to retrieve you. I had no intention of permitting anyone to harm you further.”
“I know.” Watson squeezed Holmes’ hands, soothed by the careful touch. “I knew you would come.”
And he knew now that Holmes wasn’t disappointed in him for being captured, only relieved to have him back. They would eat soon, and relax together for the rest of the evening. Watson was quite sore, but despite the pain, he would very much enjoy celebrating their successful case with a quiet evening in.