The Case of the Displaced Detective

by Stephanie Osborn

  Skye pondered, then made a decision. Quickly she reached over and grabbed her discarded clothing, shoving it all out of sight under the blankets, pulling the covers to her throat; she turned her head and softly called, “Come in.”

  * * *

  Williams entered the dim room, standing until his eyes adjusted; then he started in embarrassed surprise and turned for the door as he realized the condition of the couple.

  “Oh, forgive me for intruding…”

  “It’s all right. I’m covered, and he’s out like a light. If we’re quiet, and I stay put, he’ll probably stay that way.”

  “You got him settled?” Williams wondered softly, reaching outside the door and bringing in a cooler.

  “Yeah, I guess. I got him talking, anyway, which usually gets the matter into the open. He can brood, if you let him.”

  “Good for you,” Williams nodded. He brought the cooler to the foot of the bed, placing it out of the way on top of the bedclothes, but within Skye’s easy reach. “I’m sorry to bother, but I need to check him, and put some ice packs on him.” He patted the cooler. “Do you think he’s asleep enough a nystagmus test won’t wake him?”

  “I’m not sure, but you can give it a try. I gather he took a couple whacks to the head?”

  “Oh hell, yes,” Williams responded in disgust. “And the chest, back, belly, groin, legs…” He paused as Skye winced. “Bloody little bastards. By the time my colleague could get to him, there were probably eight or ten gang-bangers swarming over him, early to mid-teens mostly. Holmes is lucky.”

  “You had a colleague tailing him?!”

  “Not tailing him, exactly,” Williams noted apologetically. “The two of you are much too important to risk, Doctor. You’re one of the top hyperspatial physicists on the planet. Mr. Holmes is not only probably the best detective in the world; he’s also a hero to many, including myself—and most of the boys and girls in MI-5. If something happened to him on my watch, I don’t want to think. Besides, even back in the day, Mr. Holmes almost always had his police backup, not to mention the Irregulars. We certainly didn’t interfere, but…he’s had backups since about day three. From all the reports I’ve gotten, it’s not easy following him—he really is quite amazing at it. But since we always knew who to look for, my people usually managed it, barely. We just…” he gave her a helpless look, “couldn’t let you go it alone. You mean too much to us, professionally and personally. I hope you aren’t offended.”

  “No, no,” Skye waved away his concern. “Not me. I’ve been glad to have my own backup. It’s come in useful once or twice. In fact, I was suggesting to Sherlock we might use your operatives to do the observing while he’s laid up. I’m not too keen on either leaving him, or going back out on the streets without him. He’s the expert there; I’m not.”

  “Way ahead of you, luv,” Williams grinned. “The ‘Aerotech Drive Irregulars’ have already been called into action. Your marks are being tailed even as we speak. Not to mention the gang that did this,” he gestured to her bed partner, “is being investigated. I might add that Mr. Holmes gave as good as he got, if not better. He’s here, in relatively decent shape, all told, though black and blue. But a couple of the gang members have already showed up in hospital. One has a broken arm, I’m told. Another has a concussion, and a third has a separated shoulder.”

  “Good,” Skye muttered viciously, and Williams chuckled in sympathy.

  “I really think, had he not been outnumbered so severely, they could not have taken him down. My colleague said it was…quite impressive.”

  * * *

  Skye recalled the battle over the Reichenbach, and nodded. “Yeah, he knows what he’s doing in a fight, all right.”

  “Doctor, could you help me? If you’ll tilt his head, I’ll do the nystagmus test.” Williams moved to the bedside next Holmes, pulling a penlight from his pocket.

  “Sure,” Skye murmured, slipping her fingers under Holmes’ jaw and lifting his head from its position on her shoulder. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect.” Williams gently parted Holmes’ eyelids with the fingers of his left hand, flicking the light across each of his eyes in turn and watching for abnormal responses in eye movement and pupil contraction. “Good. Still no sign of a concussion. He’s in the clear, I’d say.”

  Skye eased Holmes’ head back to her shoulder. Holmes sighed in his sleep and burrowed his face into her hair. Williams smiled, a hint of male affection in the expression.

  “I would never have thought the great detective could love so deeply. He is quite madly in love with you, you know. But then, as strong as was his friendship with Dr. Watson, I suppose I oughtn’t to be surprised.”

  “No,” Skye said, startled and moved. “He’s always been capable of it. He…he told you how much…?”

  “Not directly, no. That isn’t his way, as I’m sure you know more than anyone. But if you knew how he speaks of you…” the operative shook his head. “His confidence and faith in you are total and complete. But he is constantly concerned with your safety, too. Not unduly so, but it is obvious—if one pays attention—you’re never far from his thoughts. He seems to be integrating the softer emotions with that famous intellect quite nicely.” He laughed softly. “When it’s only him and me about, he either refers to you as ‘The Woman’—which is telling, in itself—or as ‘my bonny comrade in arms.’ Oh, he loves you, all right.”

  * * *

  Williams moved to the cooler chest, watching the slow, happy smile spreading over Skye’s face.

  “Mm-hm,” he muttered, satisfied, “I thought you’d want to know. He’s not known for being…effusive.”

  Williams removed a handful of cloth-covered cold packs from the cooler, then moved to Holmes’ side once more. Easing the blankets off the injured man’s back, the trained paramedic gently positioned the cold packs on the worst of the contusions, using a strip of surgical tape where necessary to ensure the packs didn’t fall off. Holmes grunted in his sleep, instinctively squirming toward Skye’s warmth and away from the cold, but Williams followed with the packs, and finally Holmes was still.

  Williams tucked the covers back around Holmes’ nude form, then returned to the cooler, pulling out two more packs.

  “Um, Dr. Chadwick, I was wondering if you could please position these,” he requested, handing them to her. “That way I don’t have to risk your modesty.”

  “Sure. One in the groin, I assume. The other?”

  “Yes. The other against his upper right ribcage. If you would, leave them on for no more than about fifteen or twenty minutes, then remove all of them and put them aside. I’ll leave the cooler here, and in about an hour, please get out another set and put them on. Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep with them on him, because we don’t want skin damage.”

  “Got it. If I start getting too sleepy, I’ll take ‘em off first.”

  “Good girl. Tomorrow perhaps we can get him into the hot tub in the loo. It will help loosen his muscles. But for now, rest and ice are the rules of the road.”

  “Okay. Hang on, lemme get these in place.”

  * * *

  Skye eased one of the packs under the covers, shivering when it accidentally brushed her bare skin.

  “Oh, poor Sherlock, he’s gotta be freezing,” she mumbled, peeking under the covers to spot the bruise on his torso. “Oh, there it is. He’s actually lying on it.”

  “Oh really? That’s a good sign,” Williams decided, keeping his eyes discreetly averted.

  Skye slid one end of the cold pack under Holmes’ side to keep it in place. He muttered something unintelligible in his sleep, the tone of voice vaguely acerbic, but didn’t awaken.

  “Now for the fun one,” Skye grimaced. “If this doesn’t wake him up, he’s really out of it.”

  * * *

  “As you say,” Williams agreed, secretly glad it was Chadwick applying the pack this time. Holmes had given him a rather significant, and not especially reserved, piece of his mind whe
n the operative had done so earlier.

  * * *

  Skye slid the last cold pack beneath the covers. Abruptly she realized she was going to get part of the benefits of this one, as Holmes’ basic position had not changed since he’d fallen asleep. His left knee was still tucked between her thighs, which meant his groin rested against her left hip.

  “Oh, joy,” she grumbled. “This is gonna be cold.”

  But she eased the pack down her side anyway, trying not to shiver, worming it delicately between her hip and Holmes’ crotch. He stiffened noticeably, then sighed as if in relief, and relaxed against her.

  “He’s out of it,” Williams observed. “I’ll have to remember diphenhydramine works well on him.”

  “Evidently so,” Skye agreed, sliding her arms back around her companion and cuddling him close.

  “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Maybe later. Something hot.”

  “Hot? I wonder why,” Williams offered her a grin. “Very well. I’ll be back with ‘something hot’ in a few hours, then.” He headed for the door.

  “Williams?”

  “Yes, madam?”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Williams smiled. “I wouldn’t have missed this adventure for anything in the universe, Doctor.”

  And he was gone.

  * * *

  Holmes, exhausted by his ordeal and lulled both by medication and Skye’s nearness, slept through the evening and on into the night, not even waking when Skye turned on the lamp upon hearing Williams’ knock at the door.

  Oh, blast! she realized in dismay. I left my robe at the ranch! Ooo, there’s Sherlock’s dressing gown, hanging on the bathroom door. He won’t mind.

  “Just a minute,” she called softly, slipping out of bed and putting on Holmes’ dressing gown before going to the door and letting Williams in.

  She sat on the bedside long enough to eat the French onion soup and stacked hot club sandwich Williams brought her for dinner, then moved to sit by Holmes. Skye was diligently keeping up the cold pack therapy, switching them out as required, and Williams checked the cooler for supplies while she ate.

  “Ah, very good. There’s plenty of cold packs to get you through until you’re ready to sleep, yourself. If he wakes up,” Williams pointed at the extra covered tray on the dresser, “feed him that. It’s the same as yours. The soup and sandwich are on a warmer plate, so they’ll stay hot for several hours. If he stays asleep, feel free to eat it yourself. I brought you some magazines, too,” he said, waving at the stack of glossy publications beside Holmes’ tray. “They’re just fashion drabble, but I thought you might like something to read while you tended him.”

  “Thanks. You’re a treasure, Williams. But…I’ve got a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Um…who’s paying for all this?” Skye wondered uncomfortably. “This suite is…not cheap. We…Mr. Holmes and I…we can’t afford…well, maybe Sherlock can…maybe…”

  “Not to worry. The Cimarron Springs Hotel is owned by…British interests,” Williams informed her, a sly grin on his face. He laughed softly, careful to avoid disturbing Holmes.

  “Sonuvabitch,” Skye expostulated in surprise, then slapped a hand over her mouth at the unladylike phrase. “Pardon my French,” she murmured in embarrassment, as Williams laughed harder. “I guess I’ve been on a military base too long. You don’t mean to say…”

  “I do.”

  “MI-5?”

  “Mostly. MI-5 and -6, actually, though. Joint Intelligence Committee.”

  “You’re actively spying? Here?”

  “Not against the Yanks; they know we’re here and often work with us. But this is a hotspot, and a good location for keeping an eye on…other concerns, if you get my drift.” Williams nodded concurrence.

  “Oh, I get it.” Skye shook her head in amazement. “Boy, do I get it.”

  “So you have nothing to worry about. Mr. Holmes is a loyal citizen of the United Kingdom, and you’re a loyal citizen of the United States of America. And those two entities are working together to ensure the two of you are properly taken care of. Just as the two of you are working together to take care of them.” He grinned. “Once those nasty little disagreements back in 1776 and 1812 were worked out, we’ve always been good mates anyway, the U.K. and the U.S.”

  Skye snorted loudly, then clapped her hands over her face again, shooting a wary glance at Holmes. He had shifted position, sprawling on his stomach, but showed no sign of waking.

  “Yeah,” Williams agreed with a grin. “I better get out of here before the two of us start in on the Boston Tea Party jokes and wake the poor bloke up. I’ll see you in the morning, Doctor.”

  “Good night, Williams. And thank you.”

  Williams let himself out cautiously. Skye doffed Holmes’ dressing gown, grabbed a magazine, and slid back into bed beside her detective, settling in for a light read.

  * * *

  After a couple of hours of reading broken only by applying cold packs and polishing off part of the food Holmes would apparently not be needing, Skye decided her eyelids were too heavy to fool with any more for the night. She laid aside the magazines and slid out of bed. Pulling the sheets off Holmes, she removed all the cold packs and discarded them; hefted the cooler and set it on the floor beside the bed. Crawling back in beside Holmes, she tugged the blankets over them both, turned out the lamp, and settled down for the night.

  Holmes sighed and stiffly turned toward her. Skye snuggled up to his lanky body, wrapping her arms around him. Another sigh escaped him, and he sank deeper into sleep. Skye smiled, allowing herself to drift off.

  * * *

  Holmes woke the next morning, lying groggily on his back. The bedside lamp was on, and he had a general impression of being cold. Sensing a warm body nearby, he rolled over stiffly, bumps and bruises protesting, until he found the source of heat. This resulted in his face being pressed into a soft, fragrant, very female breast. The scent was immediately recognizable, however, so it troubled him not in the least. His arm wrapped around a narrow waist, pulling the warm body firmly into his unaccountably cold one. Suddenly Holmes gasped in shock, straightening abruptly and pulling away.

  “Well, now, that is a bit off-putting,” he observed, opening his eyes to stare into amused sapphire orbs.

  “What is?” Skye wondered, obviously fighting to keep the smile off her face as her lips twitched.

  “As a general rule, a man does like to show his lady due proof of his fond regard, of a morning,” Holmes observed in disgruntlement. He raised the covers and peered down the length of his body. “But that does make it deucedly difficult.”

  “I take it cold packs are not conducive to proving your regard,” Skye said in a deadpan tone, eyes twinkling.

  “Hardly,” Holmes admitted, reaching down to remove the offending item.

  “No,” Skye smacked his hand away. “Let it alone. You’ve got five more minutes before you can take it off. And then Williams will be here.”

  “Williams?” Holmes said in surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes, studying her state of undress. “Has he been coming in and tending…?”

  “Only at first. He brought the cold packs and showed me what to do, and checked you for concussion. Then again when it was time for dinner—which you slept right through. I stayed covered, and he was a gentleman.”

  “Very well,” Holmes agreed, mollified. “But about this—” He reached for the cold pack again, and Skye caught his hand.

  “Sherlock, let it be. Please. I stayed up until past midnight, then got up again around five this morning, so I could change these things out and keep the swelling down. I know what you want, and I love you for it, but believe me when I tell you it’d hurt like hell. Give it a couple of days.”

  “Very well. It seems everything must wait while I heal.” Holmes huffed, disappointed.

  “Not the investigation. The Aerotech Drive Irregulars—yeah, that’s really what they’re
calling themselves—went into action. It turns out you and I are both considered invaluable, so you had backup handy too, which is how you got rescued so fast.”

  “Yes, I was aware of the fact. I knew the first day Williams set them to follow.”

  “Well, good. I hope you didn’t mind too much, because I’m really grateful,” Skye said in relief. “Our targets are still under surveillance, and an investigation into the gang that attacked you is ongoing. You put several of ‘em into the hospital,” she told him boastfully.

  “Good,” he decided, secretly gratified at her pride in his abilities. “That is something, at least.”

  “Yep. Everything’s fine. So just lie there and rest. Williams will be here soon with breakfast, then he said something about getting you into the hot tub. When I take the cold packs off in a few minutes, we won’t inflict any more of ‘em on you, I promise.”

  “Well…if my alarm clock will not ring for me, will it at least offer a token of affection?”

  Skye giggled, then leaned over and kissed him. Holmes pulled her close to deepen the kiss, but she gasped and flinched away, instinctively grabbing protectively at her naked breast.

  “Woo, that’s cold,” she muttered, laying her other hand against the pack on his chest. “Sorry. I forgot that one was there, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “I should hope I put a few of them into hospital,” he grumbled under his breath, “for the intense aggravation they have caused me.” Holmes scowled in annoyance.

  “Aw, c’mere,” Skye murmured sympathetically.

  She eased herself into his chest, settling gingerly against him, cold packs and all. Their lips met, and Holmes all but groaned his appreciation as they explored each other’s mouths. They were still at it when the knock came on the bedroom door five minutes later.

  “Wup,” Skye exclaimed, “hang on a minute, Williams.”

  “Yes, madam,” Williams called from the other side of the door. “I take it you are not up as yet? I hope I didn’t wake you.”