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holmes_minorTitle: Navigation
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 370
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None
Summary: Before a stag can stride through his domain he has to wobble to his fawn legs and fall down a few times.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor April 2020 prompt: Waving. This story is another part of the post-war Sussex series in this year's Holmes Minor 2020 offerings.
Step. Tap. Step. Tap. Thud. A bark of pain and a crash. A foul oath – this vile war has clearly stepped up the quality of military profanity as well as weaponry.
Turn from your newspaper.
A hand in the air, waving once from behind the guilty sofa.
Turn back and stay in your seat, pretending to read the newspaper as dragging and groaning sounds indicate that the swearing man is acquiring his footing once again.
#
Birdsong. Humming bees. Tapping stick over by the garden. A small pained sound – probably stubbed his foot on one of the stones bordering the rose beds. Crunch of gravel underfoot, a cry of distress at lost balance, a much louder crunch. Groaning.
A hand in the air, waving once before being used to push the owner up from the faceplant on the garden path.
Return to taking notes on hive number two. Sternly order your heart to stop panicking. You'd have made a dreadful parent.
#
A barked shin in the library. A waved hand.
A half-stumble down the staircase. One hand in a white-knuckled grip on the rail, the other waving once before rubbing the bruised knee.
A full face-plant against a bedpost. The hand not clamped around the nose waves.
#
Two weeks. Three. A full month since his return.
#
Step step step step step step. Tap tap. John unerringly navigates the stairs, crosses the parlour and swerves effortlessly into his seat at the breakfast table.
Crunch crunch crunch tap tap tap. John makes his way through the garden at his usual walking pace – with an occasional oath at a thorn-scratch as he stops to smell the roses.
In the main bedroom John rests his white cane by his bedside table, stows his shed clothing in the laundry hamper, gropes toward the bathroom, and returns from his ablutions to join his spouse under the covers. The bruises are fading.
Holmes holds him. "I believe I'm ready for the next step. And I promise I know a waved hand from a hand flung out asking for assistance."
Watson kisses him. "Good soldier."
Tomorrow, now that he has regained his body memory of the cottage, the blind man will re-acquaint himself with the path along the seacliff.
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 370
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None
Summary: Before a stag can stride through his domain he has to wobble to his fawn legs and fall down a few times.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor April 2020 prompt: Waving. This story is another part of the post-war Sussex series in this year's Holmes Minor 2020 offerings.
Step. Tap. Step. Tap. Thud. A bark of pain and a crash. A foul oath – this vile war has clearly stepped up the quality of military profanity as well as weaponry.
Turn from your newspaper.
A hand in the air, waving once from behind the guilty sofa.
Turn back and stay in your seat, pretending to read the newspaper as dragging and groaning sounds indicate that the swearing man is acquiring his footing once again.
#
Birdsong. Humming bees. Tapping stick over by the garden. A small pained sound – probably stubbed his foot on one of the stones bordering the rose beds. Crunch of gravel underfoot, a cry of distress at lost balance, a much louder crunch. Groaning.
A hand in the air, waving once before being used to push the owner up from the faceplant on the garden path.
Return to taking notes on hive number two. Sternly order your heart to stop panicking. You'd have made a dreadful parent.
#
A barked shin in the library. A waved hand.
A half-stumble down the staircase. One hand in a white-knuckled grip on the rail, the other waving once before rubbing the bruised knee.
A full face-plant against a bedpost. The hand not clamped around the nose waves.
#
Two weeks. Three. A full month since his return.
#
Step step step step step step. Tap tap. John unerringly navigates the stairs, crosses the parlour and swerves effortlessly into his seat at the breakfast table.
Crunch crunch crunch tap tap tap. John makes his way through the garden at his usual walking pace – with an occasional oath at a thorn-scratch as he stops to smell the roses.
In the main bedroom John rests his white cane by his bedside table, stows his shed clothing in the laundry hamper, gropes toward the bathroom, and returns from his ablutions to join his spouse under the covers. The bruises are fading.
Holmes holds him. "I believe I'm ready for the next step. And I promise I know a waved hand from a hand flung out asking for assistance."
Watson kisses him. "Good soldier."
Tomorrow, now that he has regained his body memory of the cottage, the blind man will re-acquaint himself with the path along the seacliff.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-26 09:54 am (UTC)It must have been hard for Holmes not to rush to Watson's aid. Rose thorns can catch anyone whether or not they can see.
I am hoping Holmes will keep on the seaward side of the path when they go for a walk.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-26 06:40 pm (UTC)I have no doubt Watson let Holmes know what would happen if he tried to play nursemaid while Watson was relearning the topography of their home; it probably ran like "Every time you help me up, Sherlock, is another night you sleep by yourself. Not every day - every TIME. Understand?"
If something really bad had happened, like a turned ankle or Watson going full-bore into the roses, he definitely would have yelled for help. With no waved hand.
And yes, Holmes will be walking on the seaward side within arm's reach for those cliff strolls. Watson may have his pride but he's not stupid either.