WatsonHolmes hurt-comfort

Some really quick sketchy thing I did today.
I didn't want to colour this, that's why I finished it kinda quickly with just some black-and-white "shading".

In an instant he [Killer Evans] had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with blood running down his face while Holmes rummaged him for weapons. Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair.

"You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!"

It was worth a wound -- it was worth many wounds -- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

"It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch."

He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.

"You are right," he cried with an immense sigh of relief. "It is quite superficial." His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. "By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?"

(from "The Three Garridebs")

Well, this is not exactly that scene, but something to that extent. Watson's hurt and Holmes comforts him. X3 (I'm such a sucker for this scenario... and also for the other way 'round. ^^)

Please enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson (c) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

text excerpt (c) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

crappy sketch (c) ~kanetosama (aka me)