Watson 1918
Feb. 4th, 2016 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smallhobbitI don't normally post fanfic to my LJ, preferring to link to AO3. However in this case I'd value some comments. Of course, I could post to AO3, but I don't like posting WIPs, unless I'm confident of the remaining chapters and don't plan on changing anything.
This begins in the late spring of 1918 - as yet I don't know how far I will take it. The military/medical processes may well not be entirely accurate, but this is ACD Watson, and therefore, like his creator, I shall claim some licence. And as I said, any comments will be appreciated (possibly ignored, but definitely appreciated).
It was in the late spring of 1918 when I was sent to assist at a home for the recuperation of officers on the South Downs. By that time in the war I felt I was the one who could do with a chance to recuperate, and indeed I could have resigned, saying my age was precluding me from continuing to serve, but I knew how desperately short-staffed the medical services were, and while I could still stand on my feet I was determined to play my part. I suspected Mycroft Holmes had had a hand in my re-allocation for it turned out this was, so far as is possible in such circumstances, a comfortable post. There were other reasons too why I saw his hand at work.
I arrived in the early evening and was shown to my room, which was small, but provided the true luxury of being for me alone. In my last posting I had shared a room with another doctor and it was not unknown to return to find one of my colleagues asleep in my bed, too exhausted to make the journey to their own lodgings. In those circumstances I would prod them until they took the blankets and slept on the floor. I would then sleep on the bed under my coat. A younger man might have resigned himself to sleeping on the floor, but such days are well past for me.
The morning after my arrival, I was conducted around the home and had my duties explained to me. They were much lighter than I had been used to, for which I was grateful. Of course, should an emergency occur, I would do all I could to assist, but otherwise I did not see the requirements as being too taxing.
After lunch I was told an old friend of mine was currently a patient. I was surprised, since I was not aware of any of my long-time acquaintances as being in the home. Certainly, all the patients I had seen so far were men at least twenty years younger than I – hardly surprising for these were men who had been serving on the front line. It was possible someone I knew had been serving in the navy, for ships’ captains were more vulnerable than their land based counterparts.
I was led by a nurse down a corridor I had not been shown in the morning. Instead of wards of eight to ten men these appeared to be individual rooms. I had expressed surprise at the small size of the wards and had been told these were dictated by the structure of the house. The sister gave the impression she believed the architect had designed it with the sole purpose of inconveniencing her.
The nurse knocked quietly on one of the doors and then showed me in. Inside I saw a thin man sitting on a chair and staring fixedly out of the window.
“Holmes,” I exclaimed. Despite the years we had not seen each other and the physical deprivation he had clearly suffered, I recognised him instantly.
He turned at the sound of my voice, but made no other response. My heart plummeted. Had something so traumatised him he no longer recognised me?
“He does not speak,” the nurse said.
“May I stay?” I asked. “I am not due to be anywhere else at the moment.”
“Of course,” she replied. Turning to Holmes she said, “I shall be back later, Mr Holmes.”
I sat on the bed and regarded my old friend. I soon became aware he was inspecting me. Finally, apparently satisfied, he smiled and held out his hand. I took it and shook it warmly.
I wondered how to proceed and said tentatively, “Would you like to hear something of what I’ve been doing?”
He gave a small nod and I could see a slight spark in his eyes. I did not bore him with my day to day activities, but instead described some of the characters I had met and some of the little mysteries which had occurred. It was almost like the old times, for I could tell from the twitches in his face when he wished to know more, and when he thought I was exaggerating. Too soon I realised I would have to leave and I stood up, explaining I had work to do. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said, and was pleased to see him smile in acknowledgement.
***
I made my way to where the main wards were. I was on the roster to do the evening ward round and having met the nurse who would accompany me I set off at speed, glancing at the patients in the beds on either side as I hurried to the end of the ward.
The nurse called out, “Doctor Watson, please slow down.”
I turned in surprise, my days of outpacing a nurse being well past.
“If you are happy for me to sign off the patients on your behalf, doctor, I will do so,” she said, “but please give me time to complete the charts.”
I stopped and returned to the beginning of the ward. “I am so sorry,” I said. “I have not yet become accustomed to the procedures here.” I smiled sadly. “Where I have come from, there was only time to stop for those who needed urgent assistance.”
She nodded, although I am not sure she believed I wished to change my behaviour. I picked up the first chart, “So, let us begin again. Captain Hawkins, your notes state your wounds are mending nicely, but you continue to find having them dressed somewhat distressing. I realise this is reminding you of the circumstances in which you sustained your injuries, but may I suggest you try to think of what you will be able to do once they have healed sufficiently for you to go outside.”
We continued in this vein. At one point I whispered to the nurse that she let me know if I was taking too long in my round, for I did not wish to fall foul of the sister at this stage. She assured me she would do so, and added that sister cared for her patients; she just wasn’t as fond of the doctors and nurses.
I was coming to the end of my round, and aware of the sounds of supper approaching. This was the point at which I needed to have finished, but I only had one last ward to visit, so I was not troubled that I would have time to see all my patients before the meal was served.
I picked up the chart at the first bed and glanced at the name – Captain Stanley Hopkins. Seeing the name gave me a start, as did seeing the man lying in the bed, his eyes bandaged. It was hard to reconcile the enthusiastic police inspector we had welcomed into 221B, with the person in front of me, so pale and quiet. I controlled my emotions and spoke briefly to him. He did not seem to recognise my voice, which was hardly surprising; he would not have expected me to be standing by his bedside.
After I had finished my round I spoke to the sister. “Is there any hope Captain Hopkins will recover his sight?”
“None whatsoever. He is completely blind.”
“Then, can the bandages be removed?”
“He becomes distressed when they are taken off. “
“But even so, if he does not need them …”
“He is much calmer when they are in place. We therefore replace them once his face has been washed.”
As the doctor, I could overrule her, but I did not feel this would be helpful. So I said instead, “I have some free hours tomorrow morning, would you object if I were to talk to your patient and see if we can make some progress in this matter?”
“You are the doctor, sir, you may do as you see fit. However, if you can tell me the time you will be coming I can prepare him for your visit. He finds it difficult when people appear at his bedside unexpectedly and can get agitated if he has not been forewarned.”
“Thank you, sister. Shall we say half past ten?”
“Certainly doctor.”
I wished her good night and went in search of my own supper. After which I planned to return to my room and consider the unexpected events of the day.
This begins in the late spring of 1918 - as yet I don't know how far I will take it. The military/medical processes may well not be entirely accurate, but this is ACD Watson, and therefore, like his creator, I shall claim some licence. And as I said, any comments will be appreciated (possibly ignored, but definitely appreciated).
It was in the late spring of 1918 when I was sent to assist at a home for the recuperation of officers on the South Downs. By that time in the war I felt I was the one who could do with a chance to recuperate, and indeed I could have resigned, saying my age was precluding me from continuing to serve, but I knew how desperately short-staffed the medical services were, and while I could still stand on my feet I was determined to play my part. I suspected Mycroft Holmes had had a hand in my re-allocation for it turned out this was, so far as is possible in such circumstances, a comfortable post. There were other reasons too why I saw his hand at work.
I arrived in the early evening and was shown to my room, which was small, but provided the true luxury of being for me alone. In my last posting I had shared a room with another doctor and it was not unknown to return to find one of my colleagues asleep in my bed, too exhausted to make the journey to their own lodgings. In those circumstances I would prod them until they took the blankets and slept on the floor. I would then sleep on the bed under my coat. A younger man might have resigned himself to sleeping on the floor, but such days are well past for me.
The morning after my arrival, I was conducted around the home and had my duties explained to me. They were much lighter than I had been used to, for which I was grateful. Of course, should an emergency occur, I would do all I could to assist, but otherwise I did not see the requirements as being too taxing.
After lunch I was told an old friend of mine was currently a patient. I was surprised, since I was not aware of any of my long-time acquaintances as being in the home. Certainly, all the patients I had seen so far were men at least twenty years younger than I – hardly surprising for these were men who had been serving on the front line. It was possible someone I knew had been serving in the navy, for ships’ captains were more vulnerable than their land based counterparts.
I was led by a nurse down a corridor I had not been shown in the morning. Instead of wards of eight to ten men these appeared to be individual rooms. I had expressed surprise at the small size of the wards and had been told these were dictated by the structure of the house. The sister gave the impression she believed the architect had designed it with the sole purpose of inconveniencing her.
The nurse knocked quietly on one of the doors and then showed me in. Inside I saw a thin man sitting on a chair and staring fixedly out of the window.
“Holmes,” I exclaimed. Despite the years we had not seen each other and the physical deprivation he had clearly suffered, I recognised him instantly.
He turned at the sound of my voice, but made no other response. My heart plummeted. Had something so traumatised him he no longer recognised me?
“He does not speak,” the nurse said.
“May I stay?” I asked. “I am not due to be anywhere else at the moment.”
“Of course,” she replied. Turning to Holmes she said, “I shall be back later, Mr Holmes.”
I sat on the bed and regarded my old friend. I soon became aware he was inspecting me. Finally, apparently satisfied, he smiled and held out his hand. I took it and shook it warmly.
I wondered how to proceed and said tentatively, “Would you like to hear something of what I’ve been doing?”
He gave a small nod and I could see a slight spark in his eyes. I did not bore him with my day to day activities, but instead described some of the characters I had met and some of the little mysteries which had occurred. It was almost like the old times, for I could tell from the twitches in his face when he wished to know more, and when he thought I was exaggerating. Too soon I realised I would have to leave and I stood up, explaining I had work to do. He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said, and was pleased to see him smile in acknowledgement.
***
I made my way to where the main wards were. I was on the roster to do the evening ward round and having met the nurse who would accompany me I set off at speed, glancing at the patients in the beds on either side as I hurried to the end of the ward.
The nurse called out, “Doctor Watson, please slow down.”
I turned in surprise, my days of outpacing a nurse being well past.
“If you are happy for me to sign off the patients on your behalf, doctor, I will do so,” she said, “but please give me time to complete the charts.”
I stopped and returned to the beginning of the ward. “I am so sorry,” I said. “I have not yet become accustomed to the procedures here.” I smiled sadly. “Where I have come from, there was only time to stop for those who needed urgent assistance.”
She nodded, although I am not sure she believed I wished to change my behaviour. I picked up the first chart, “So, let us begin again. Captain Hawkins, your notes state your wounds are mending nicely, but you continue to find having them dressed somewhat distressing. I realise this is reminding you of the circumstances in which you sustained your injuries, but may I suggest you try to think of what you will be able to do once they have healed sufficiently for you to go outside.”
We continued in this vein. At one point I whispered to the nurse that she let me know if I was taking too long in my round, for I did not wish to fall foul of the sister at this stage. She assured me she would do so, and added that sister cared for her patients; she just wasn’t as fond of the doctors and nurses.
I was coming to the end of my round, and aware of the sounds of supper approaching. This was the point at which I needed to have finished, but I only had one last ward to visit, so I was not troubled that I would have time to see all my patients before the meal was served.
I picked up the chart at the first bed and glanced at the name – Captain Stanley Hopkins. Seeing the name gave me a start, as did seeing the man lying in the bed, his eyes bandaged. It was hard to reconcile the enthusiastic police inspector we had welcomed into 221B, with the person in front of me, so pale and quiet. I controlled my emotions and spoke briefly to him. He did not seem to recognise my voice, which was hardly surprising; he would not have expected me to be standing by his bedside.
After I had finished my round I spoke to the sister. “Is there any hope Captain Hopkins will recover his sight?”
“None whatsoever. He is completely blind.”
“Then, can the bandages be removed?”
“He becomes distressed when they are taken off. “
“But even so, if he does not need them …”
“He is much calmer when they are in place. We therefore replace them once his face has been washed.”
As the doctor, I could overrule her, but I did not feel this would be helpful. So I said instead, “I have some free hours tomorrow morning, would you object if I were to talk to your patient and see if we can make some progress in this matter?”
“You are the doctor, sir, you may do as you see fit. However, if you can tell me the time you will be coming I can prepare him for your visit. He finds it difficult when people appear at his bedside unexpectedly and can get agitated if he has not been forewarned.”
“Thank you, sister. Shall we say half past ten?”
“Certainly doctor.”
I wished her good night and went in search of my own supper. After which I planned to return to my room and consider the unexpected events of the day.
