Work Text:
Holmes had been restless all day, roaming the crowded quarters of Baker Street as if they were a cell rather than his beloved home. Periodically, he wiped the sweat from his brow, shuddering.
Watson, who had been his friend for many years, knew the trouble. Holmes did not like to be damp, or dirty, and could be terribly sensitive to disruptions to routine. The extreme heat striking London at present had unsettled him on multiple levels. He was quite overheated, sweaty, and could not go for his customary walks.
There was little that could be done. Even damp cloths on the brow or neck made Holmes more uncomfortable, and opening the window would not improve matters.
“I say, Holmes.” Watson stirred, picking up the paper. “Perhaps you’d like me to read to you? I believe you could use a distraction.”
“I could use a change in the weather,” Holmes snapped. Still, he sat, steepled his fingertips together, and nodded approval.
Watson happily read aloud, and as he did, Holmes began to relax. His breathing steadied, and he leaned back rather than looking as if he might need to spring up at any second.
Pleased with his success, Watson continued reading.