AN: I know that so far this story is lacking much Holmes dialog, but I feel that while he is in pain and laid up, Holmes would be quieter and more sulky. I promise to get a good conversation in the next chapter or two. Oh and for those of you who saw my spelling error last chapter, I apologize profusely and thank you for pointing it out. It has been fixed.
The next morning around eight, I awoke. I got up, stretched, and looked down only to realize that I was still attired in my clothes. I had forgotten to change into my night gown! I immediately went to my room and changed into it for two reasons: one, so I would not smell, and two, so I would be comfortable while nursing Holmes back to health. I then enter his room and found him wide awake, gritting his teeth.
"Holmes," said I, "if you continue on like that, you'll add a tooth ache to your list of pain." He gave me the 'evil eye' and I frowned. "All joking aside, old chap, how is your leg? That was a nasty fall that you took. Do you remember anything of yesterday?"
He thought for a moment and replied "Erm, I remember the morning and the first half of the afternoon. I recall chasing someone and then a good deal of pain. There are flashes, but not enough to put anything together. Am I correct in assuming that I have broken my leg?"
"Yes, you are quite correct, Holmes, as usual. Quite a break, indeed. Snapped clean in two. I'm not surprised that you don't remember much. That much pain cane do funny thing to none's memory."
"Speaking of pain, Watson…"
"Oh! Right. Yes, I'll go fetch some of the medicine from hospital. It's just as good as morphine, without the risks." I went to fetch the pills and returned to Holmes attempting to sit up! I tossed the bottle onto the bed and rushed to my friend's side to help him. We managed a standing position, with him balancing on his good leg while I got the crutches. I handed them to him and muscle memory kicked in. He began maneuvering towards the sitting room. I followed him and made sure he reached the basket chair without incident.
After he was settled, I called for Mrs. Hudson who lite the fire, and took our orders for breakfast. I then returned to Holmes's bedroom and retrieved the pills. I handed two to him and he then dry swallowed them. I looked at Holmes and noted that he also was still in his old clothes.
"Since you're likely to be cooped up for a while, Holmes, would you prefer to change into your night gown?" I asked.
He nodded and I helped him into my room, as it was closer. I then fetched his blue gown from his closet. He removed his shirt without hindrance but was at a loss as to how to remove his trousers. His cast was to fat to remove them the traditional way. I thought for a while and finally decided that we would have to cut him out of them. I grabbed the scissors lying on my desk and apologized for ruining his favorite pair of trousers. I began at the opening of the left leg and worker my way up to the waist. The pants were then able to be removed and his night gown slipped on.
We returned to the sitting room to find Mrs. Hudson waiting for us. She held tow plates, mine contained eggs and toast and Holmes's had hash browns and ketchup. Surprisingly, Holmes appetite had actually improved instead of decreasing, as most people did after suffering an injury. He went through two helpings of potatoes in less than ten minutes and would have continued on to a third had I not stopped him.
Later that day, I had convinced Holmes to come talk a walk with me, though he grumbled and made it quite plainly known that he was perfectly happy to read in his basket chair for the remainder of the day.
"Holmes," said I "I understand that you want to sit there and sulk, but I must insist that you get moving. I want you to get used to going places with those crutches. I don't want you falling and breaking something significantly more important, like you brain."
He glared at me, but reached for his crutches and stood up. Walking around our flat was one thing, but maneuvering in the hustle and bustle of London was quite another. I decided that we could go look at the shops for a new magnifying glass, as my dear, clumsy friend had managed to break his third one this MONTH. I grabbed my coat and helped Holmes to balance while he adorned his and then we were off.
"Mrs. Hudson, we'll be back for supper!" I yelled over my shoulder so our our landlady wouldn't worry. We got down the seventeen steps and were at last out onto Baker Street. I, after being cooped up with a restless, cranky Holmes for nearly an entire day, was exuberant to be out of the confined space. "Come on, old boy, I say we should go get you a new toy. Give you something to mess about with, eh?" I elbowed him playfully, momentarily forgetting that his center of balance had yet to be permanently established. He swayed for a few moments and seemed to steady himself and sent an annoyed glance my way. I could tell that a sharp remark was about to exit his thin lips. I internally grimaced; this was going to be a LONG month.