He's surprised, to say the least, that he can do this at all. It's a rare day that his old wound doesn't trouble him but right now, carrying Holmes through the empty snowy streets towards home, he doesn't feel even a twinge of pain.

"Hold still!"

"Only if you cease torturing me!"

"For god's sake man, it's only a cut!"

"Watson, I believe I may have found a case I cannot solve"

"Nonsense Holmes. Something like this hasn't the ability to stop you"

"I have made no progress in three days."

"And? It took you nearly a week before you picked up the trail on the last case"

"That was much more complicated-"

Watson, tired of skirting around the issue, shut his paper and leveled Holmes with an annoyed look.

"You will solve it Holmes. There is very little you cannot do when you put your mind to it. I should think that if you wanted to you would learn to fly."

Holmes went very still, and Watson pretended to believe he was reading the letter again even if his eyes weren't moving with the lines.

Holmes had the man by sunrise.

A solid blow to the skull is all it takes to send the man sprawling, the bullet that should have been the end of Holmes remaining quietly in the gun. The detective stares up at him from seat against the wall and Watson silently offers his hand "I truly thought I might die that time, old boy" he says, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. 'Never, not while I'm around' the words remain unspoken as Lestrade and his gaggle of officers burst onto the scene, but Watson wonders if Holmes heard it anyway. One can never tell with him.

Watson lays his coat over the sleeping detective on Lestrade's couch before settling in a nearby armchair. Holmes had been on the case for nearly eight days, Watson could wait and Lestrade could use another couch.