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I had woken up feeling more or less fine. Oh, I was tired, as always, and my leg and shoulder ached from the cold. But it was only a minor ache, and when Holmes abruptly leapt up from the breakfast table and ran outside, I followed without thinking to grab my cane.
Halfway down the stairs, my bad leg nearly gave out, and I clutched the railing with a gasp. By the time I made it outside, it was difficult for me not to simply collapse to the ground and lie there in a heap. It seemed I had judged myself incorrectly, and this would be a bad pain day.
“Well, well! This is most intriguing!” Holmes stood in the street, holding onto a carriage horse’s bridle. “A carriage without driver or passengers. Small wonder it sounded so unusual on the pavement without additional weight.”
I had not heard any difference in the carriage noises, but that did at least explain Holmes bolting so suddenly. “Intriguing indeed.”
I’d thought my own tone completely normal, despite my present inability to put any weight on my left leg, but Holmes immediately twisted towards me. “Dear me, dear me, where is your cane? Surely you should have brought it, given your clearly severe pain?”
“Surely,” I agreed.
“Come, Watson.” Holmes caught my arm and helped me limp closer to the horse. “Do you hold onto this horse, and I shall fetch your cane.”
Leaving me with one hand on the harness, Holmes charged back inside. He returned speedily, pressed my cane into my hand, and hurled himself into investigating the carriage.
I smiled, my pain easing somewhat as I leaned on my cane. I had certainly underestimated the severity of my aches, but my dear friend was always happy to fetch my cane.