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After decades of sharing rooms, Watson was very used to Holmes’ loathing of rest, no matter how necessary. In their early years of friendship, Holmes had often simply ignored Watson’s urging to care for himself at all, driving himself to the point of collapse even when hurt.
These days, they were both certainly older, and perhaps wiser. While Holmes was now at least a little more likely to accept Watson’s judgment in matters of recovering from injuries, that did not mean he was happy about it.
“So, Watson.” Holmes glared at the latest roll of bandages, waiting on his bedside table. “How long do you intend to imprison me in my room?”
“Well, judging by your inability to so much as sit up without help, I suppose it’s likely that you’ll be in bed, let alone your room, for some time.” Watson bent over Holmes’ arm, inspecting the still healing cuts. He washed them again, patted the skin dry, and then reached for the clean bandages. “You need rest, old man.”
“Rest is dull.” With a heavy sigh, Holmes leaned back against the pillows that Watson had arranged for him. “My mind shall desiccate from stagnation.”
Watson smiled to himself, wrapping Holmes’ arm. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.”
It was something of a dire situation, though. Holmes had been injured during their most recent case, and given that he’d been in a fight before falling from a balcony, he would indeed be laid up for some time. No bones had been broken when he struck the ground, but he was heavily bruised and in considerable pain.
“It is coming to that as we speak.” Holmes winced as Watson laid his arm back down on a soft, supportive pillow. “I have already been imprisoned for an eternity.”
“It has been two days.”
“An eternity.”
Watson chuckled softly and rose. He patted Holmes once on the shoulder, then went to fetch his favorite crocheted blanket. After draping the grey and brown blanket around Holmes’ shoulders, Watson collected his second favorite blanket, which was a similar pattern but more colorful. This, he spread across Holmes’ lap.
Holmes flicked a wry smile at him. “Dear me. Do you intend to bury me in blankets so that I am incapable of rising, Watson?”
“I am trying to make you comfortable, Holmes. You love blankets.” Watson poured a cup of tea next and carefully prepared it with just the right amount of milk and sugar. Too much of either, and Holmes would refuse to drink it. “Perhaps if I spoil you enough, you’ll be less inclined to view this as a prison.”
“I doubt it. I shall not be content until I can return to work.”
“What would you like to eat?” Watson asked, ignoring the comment. “I had Mrs. Hudson make your favorite cake, and she’s bought that sharp cheese that you say offsets the sweetness so well. I should be very happy to go dish some up for you.”
“Well, well, well. You are intent on spoiling me.” Holmes let out a long breath, and another suppressed smile tugged at his lips. After a moment, he nodded. “Very well. If you are so insistent on catering to my every whim, then I suppose I must let you do so.”
Triumphant, Watson passed him the tea. “Wonderful, Holmes. I shall be right back.”
He went out into the sitting room, where Mrs. Hudson had left a tray with the requested food earlier. In truth, Watson very much enjoyed catering to Holmes’ every whim, whether or not he was injured. To help Holmes in both his work and his frustration with boredom had always been one of Watson’s greatest pleasures.
Carefully, he cut a slice of the soft cake, one that was just the right size to satisfy Holmes without making him overtax himself by using his injured arm for too long. Next, Watson sliced the hard cheese into bite-sized pieces, then stood back and looked the plate over. Yes, this was perfect. Just the thing to tempt him.
“Here you are, old man.” Watson carried the plate in, and was rewarded with another flash of a smile. “Well, this ought to help for now, and I brought in your pipe and the tobacco slipper earlier. Is there anything else you need?”
“I believe this will be adequate for now.” Holmes accepted the plate, wincing again, and tried the cake. “This is excellent. But you have not gotten yourself anything, Watson.”
“Oh. Well, I-I didn’t want to eat your cake or cheese.” It did look very good, though, and Watson eyed it. “Unless you don’t mind.”
“I think that as fond as I am of this cake, I am quite incapable of eating the entire thing in one day. You may have some of the cheese as well. And in answer to your question, the only other thing I need is for you to join me,” Holmes said. When Watson stood, Holmes caught his hand. “Watson.”
Watson paused. “Yes, Holmes?”
Holmes flicked another smile at him, expression far more relaxed now. “Thank you. This does make being confined to bed a little more tolerable.”
Heart warm, Watson beamed at him. “I am proud and happy to be of help.”
Once he retrieved his own plate of cake and cheese, Watson returned to sit beside Holmes’ bed. Even the most delicious snack, consisting of some of the limited foods that Holmes found exciting, wouldn’t keep him from being bored for very long. But at this point, after so very many years of friendship, Watson had plenty of ideas for keeping Holmes entertained even while he rested.