"No." Watson looked up from his bandaging, a clouded expression on his face. "It isn't. You're quite lucky, there. Good God, Holmes--" He broke off, for his voice had cracked, and he hadn't any notion of what to say in any case.

He looked away for a moment, feeling awkward, feeling like he'd shown too much of his heart. At last he turned back to Holmes, and moved to take off Holmes's nightshirt. He had brought in a carafe of water, a glass, and a cloth, and his plan was to cool Holmes down a little that way. He didn't say anything else; he felt far too anxious and self-conscious by now.