Watson wasn't even sure how to answer, not at first. Everything seemed so very far away, but there was Holmes, and there was pain, and he was struggling to bring himself back to the moment. He knew all too well the importance of not losing himself now, not on the battlefield, and this was certainly a battlefield.

"Had worse," he managed, truthfully. He sucked air in through his gritted teeth, and he turned to look at his wounded arm, lifting his hand. Irrationally, he felt angry about the loss of his coat. He didn't think it was too serious, but it was difficult to tell here, in the dark. There didn't seem to be an alarming amount of blood, for what it was worth. "Got to get cover," he managed.