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“Now we are home, will you let me see that injury you are concealing?” I asked.
“What injury?” Holmes responded with an amused smile.
“My dear Holmes, how many years have we been friends now?” I asked. “There is no point in attempting to conceal your injury from me.”
“Well, well, I fear you are correct, my dear Watson,” Holmes said, somewhat reluctantly. He still looked amused. “It is merely a scratch, though.”
“I would like to see this scratch,” I insisted. “Even mere scratches can become infected if left untreated.”
I knew this was more than a scratch as I knew my friend very well, but mentioning infection would leave him with no argument. Holmes knew this as well and he sighed before removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeve, showing me a cut from a knife. I did not point out the severity of the injury was more than a mere scratch, instead cleaning out the injury and wiping away the blood before bandaging the wound.
“Dear me, dear me.” Holmes inspected my work. “You have utterly encased my arm. How will I play my violin now?”
“You should not be playing your violin just yet,” I muttered. I adjusted the bandages anyways as I knew this injury was not severe enough to stop Holmes from playing.
As expected, Holmes did not pay my statement any mind. He picked up his violin and began to play, one of my favorite songs. I understood what Holmes was saying through his music. Pleased, I sat back to continue to listen to Holmes play. My friend often concealed and neglected his injuries, but years of experience had taught me what to look out for. I was always glad to tend to him just as he was grateful for my help.