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[whatofthewarts]

Irene Adler had many homes, and many more hiding places, but months after her death Sherlock was certain he'd found at least half those in the country. She had her many stolen jewels tucked away all over the apartment, and it took him the better part of the afternoon to dig them all out of their hidey holes. When he had them in his pockets, he went searching for someone else entirely.

Although they had their obvious differences, given their different environments, Sherlock found it was remarkably easy to track himself down.

"Making headway, I presume?"

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[whatofthewarts]

Holmes's gaze lingers there, at Sherlock's hands, those long fingers. The way they'll stifle any sound.

He finds a red, swollen mark on his hip and lightly holds the cloth with the ice there.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

His eyes close, and he hums softly.

"You said you invented ice therapy? It isn't common?"

[whatofthewarts]

"Ice isn't common in the summertime, unless you have money. But with the right chemicals, in the right proportions..."

A very crude ice pack, sans ice. He sets it on Sherlock's poor ribs. Someday, it will be featured in First Aid kits everywhere.

"The chemicals are difficult to come by, so ice was the more prudent option. Hold that on."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"You're years ahead of your time."

He admits, holding it there, arching back.

"Maybe if we did this again, we could be more careful." He suggests, a tiny bit anxiously.

[whatofthewarts]

Holmes's eyebrow lifts. He's moderately impressed. He noticed, of course, that Sherlock had enjoyed it...but doing this again would mean giving up some control. He hadn't been sure Sherlock would find it acceptable to give it up to him.

"Certainly. I admit that what we did was...unexpected."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"It helped."

He feels calm enough, finally, to admit it.

"My work will improve."

[whatofthewarts]

"I have no doubt. Improving is what we do."

He pauses to tsk at a bruise low on Sherlock's leg.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

His foot arches leg cramping a touch, trying to stretch.

"Where did you learn to fight? I can box perfectly competently-"

[whatofthewarts]

"Many of my techniques are used in the Far East. They can be learned here from immigrants. Others I developed myself, through practical study of human anatomy."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Fascinating."

He whispers, easing as his leg does.

"Better. Thank you."

[whatofthewarts]

"What sort of world do you live in, that a man doesn't need to fight in proximity to other men?"

Because he finds it so strange that boxing has done so well for Sherlock, there.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"A very cold one."

Is how his tired mind explains it right now. That's all he can manage.

[whatofthewarts]

He doesn't need to ask why Sherlock is in a rush to get back to it. Besides, this world is less than personal, too. It's the human condition.

"You sound fatigued."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I don't remember the last time I slept."

He confesses, dazed. Good time to be playing, obviously. Better time to lose his virginity.

[whatofthewarts]

"Now that won't do."

He fluffs a pillow meaningfully.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I'm not an invalid."

Falling backwards, though.

[whatofthewarts]

"You might feel like one come morning."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"It might be best if you left before then. This is humiliating."

Quiet.

[whatofthewarts]

He would want the same thing. Watson wouldn't give it, of course. But Holmes doesn't deal as well with this sort of thing.

"I'll be back on the morrow. Meals in bed."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He looks at him with outright ire.

No.

[whatofthewarts]

Holmes stares back, unbudging.

"If something should happen, if something should show up after the adrenaline has all worn off, then it is my responsibility."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"And what? Have violent intercourse with me?"

Eyes rolling.

"No one comes here."

[whatofthewarts]

"And make sure that no cracked ribs became broken ribs, which may then puncture your lungs."

Now Holmes is sounding testy.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Does someone feel a little bit guilty?"

He makes a face at him.

"I may have been a virgin but I was hardly blushing."

[whatofthewarts]

"Perhaps not, but you are a proud man, and proud men tend to ignore vital injuries."

So there. Even if they both know that Sherlock is more than bright enough to recognize when he needs help. He probably knows better than Holmes how to treat it by himself.