#illustrious client

[son-of-drogo]

Was inspired by @contact-guy 's Holmes and Watson and thought I'd do an Illustrious Client reunion.

[edosianorchids901]

Certain Small Truths

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "loud lie, quiet truth"

Cw: aftermath of violence, head injury

“All in all, Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ condition is very, very serious,” Watson said loudly, loud enough that all the reporters clustered around the front of 221B Baker Street would be able to hear him. “He may not live the week out. I beg you to contact Scotland Yard if you have any information about the men who attacked him.”

A chorus of questions went up, everyone crowding closer, and Watson fled back into the house before they could corner him. His hands shook, and he could not catch his breath. Writing accounts to be published was one thing, but dealing with reporters face to face…

“Oh, sir.” Sniffling, Mrs. Hudson came to his side. Her eyes were red, and she clutched a damp handkerchief. “How is Mr. Holmes, really? That other doctor said it was serious, but…”

“It will be all right. Mr. Holmes is not in any real danger.”

Based on the look on Mrs. Hudson’s face, that lie had not been nearly as convincing as the one he had just told the press. She gave him an uncertain look, then dabbed at her cheeks again. “It broke my heart to see him when they brought him in, Doctor. He was in such pain, delirious with it...”

“I know. But he is himself again now.” Gently, Watson rested a hand on her shoulder and gave an encouraging smile. “Everything will be all right, Mrs. Hudson. He will make a speedy recovery.”

Bracing, Watson ascended the stairs and entered Holmes’ room. He had told two lies, one to the press and one to Mrs. Hudson. Now, he must face the truth.

The truth lay somewhere between those extremes, neither certain doom nor certain recovery. The quietly evident truth was that Holmes had been severely beaten, including over the head, and would be in for a long process of healing. There was no way to be certain whether there would be lingering effects, or what they might be.

Holmes was sleeping now, thanks to the morphine, and did not stir when Watson sat beside him. Bruises covered his face, deep purple in the dim light, and blood had soaked through the bandage on his head. It would need to be changed once he awakened again.

As Watson gazed down at his dearest friend, a lump in his throat choked him. He swallowed hard, struggling to compose himself, but he was past the point of composure. Tears welled, and some escaped.

He managed not to sob, merely because he could not bear the thought of waking Holmes. Holmes clearly had a plan to take down Baron Gruner, even while so badly injured, and he would need his rest if he was to complete it. He would need his rest just in order to recover.

But it was devastating to see him like this, so still and quiet. Watson had to battle the impulse to check for a pulse. He could see Holmes’ chest rising and falling, and yet…

A quiet noise of anguish slipped from him, and he covered his eyes with one hand. What if what he told the reporters was closer to the truth? What if Holmes’ condition worsened? It was possible, too possible. There was no way to know what damage had been done, especially by those blows to the head.

“Watson.” The quiet murmur of his name had a gentle lilt, a sing-song quality. “John.”

Startled, Watson raised his head. “My dear Holmes, you must rest. I thought you were asleep.”

“Merely dozing, my boy.” Holmes flicked a tiny, faint smile at him, not opening his eyes. The light seemed to be paining him. “How was your little discussion with the press?”

Holmes spoke much more slowly than usual, as if he was struggling with each word. Or perhaps it was simply that with all the blows to the head and face, speaking was painful for him.

“It went well. I have told them that you’re delirious, and that there is likely a great deal of damage to your brain.” Merely saying it made Watson dizzy, and he clasped his hands as he struggled for control. “I have told Mrs. Hudson, on the other hand, that you will make a full and speedy recovery.”

“Good old Watson.” Another weak twitch of a smile. “I certainly… have every intention of making a full recovery. Speedy, however, is less likely.”

“I agree. We must expect that you will require a period of convalescence.” Very carefully, Watson took Holmes’ hand and held it in a way that would not strain his injured fingers. “Perhaps we might travel to the countryside again once you are well enough.”

“Capital notion.” For just a moment, Holmes opened his eyes and gave Watson a gently amused look. “We shall be certain to encounter a nice little murder.”

Watson chuckled, then wiped his eyes. He was still horribly worried about Holmes, but the joke raised his spirits. “Well, I’m sure that if we do, you will solve it no matter your condition.”

[amypihcs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

And ILLU is heeeere! Posting now because of external factors. (<- annoyed.) Two chapters, a bunch of sex and two men who are VERY smitten for each other!

A little gift for my angst-loving @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end and @tyrannosaurusnacks and biggest thanks to tyra for the betaing job!

Nuisance tags

@i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end @fruitviking @cackled0g @kimgmac63 @tyrannosaurusnacks @usergreenpixel @louieclamlent @friday411 @rudbeckiasunflower @rainbow-person @skyriderwednesday @blistering-typhoons @sadieb798 @yulagrandeur @angryducktimemachine @eisenkrahe @geeoharee @r2y9s-notartblog @somethingintheforest @moroniccats @neverquiteeden @gooolabatooo @haedraulics @pizza-hats-of-the-world-1882 @calaisreno @its-notlupus @a-candle-for-sherlock @dontsmokedontdrinkfuck @nessahero @b2bmild @whenyoulikeandwhereyoulike @str4nge-s4nctimony @snogfairy

[muchtohope]

callout post for sherlock holmes, I’m literally begging you to cultivate a sense of self preservation, thanks.

[hudders-and-hiddles]

Both Holmes and I had a weakness for the Turkish bath. It was over a smoke in the pleasant lassitude of the drying-room that I have found him less reticent and more human than anywhere else. On the upper floor of the Northumberland Avenue establishment there is an isolated corner where two couches lie side by side, and it was on these that we lay upon September 3, 1902, the day when my narrative begins. I had asked him whether anything was stirring...

someone find me a ouija board because acd and i need to have words

[gralto]

Watson, please 😲

The Adventure of The Illustrious Client

[hudders-and-hiddles]

following all this with the immediate no homo move of i was living in my own rooms in queen anne street at the time as if that really counters the enormous yes homo of the turkish bath scene

[hudders-and-hiddles]

like please picture john looking at sherlock wrapped in his sheet on the sofa in the middle of buckingham palace, and instead of asking him if he’s wearing pants, asking if anything is stirring asld;ka;lskdlaskj