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[jumpthegun]

You've reached Dr. John Watson. Please leave a message.

Comments

[jumpthegun]

Yet. Please make sure you're taking plenty of breaks during the day and staying well hydrated. People have started developing TB-like symptoms with what started off as a 'nothing serious' cough.

[redrooms]

I'll keep an eye on it. Don't worry about me, doctor.

[jumpthegun]

I worry about everyone, Ms. Romanov. How's Mr. Stark, while we're doing the rounds?

[redrooms]

Fine, as far as I can tell. No strange symptoms, physical or otherwise. And you?

[jumpthegun]

Healthy as a horse. My hands started working yesterday while Sherlock was having a look at them.

[redrooms]

Maybe he has the magic touch.

[jumpthegun]

You joke, but I do wonder if some part of it isn't psychosomatic. He's the reason I can walk without a cane.

[redrooms]

[Ah, that's new.]

Is he? And how did that happen?

cw: brief mention of suicides

[jumpthegun]

It's a little weird to explain--it doesn't really make much sense. But he just sort of made me forget about it.

I'd been having trouble with my leg since I'd gotten back from the front lines in Afghanistan. Just one of those things. I'd been dealing with it for months--physical therapy, proper therapy--nothing was really working. Anyway, it was our first case together a few days after I'd met him and we'd moved into a flat together. We were at a restaurant on a stakeout watching for this bloke who was killing people with poisoned pills and making them look like suicides.

We weren't seeing anything, and then Sherlock spotted a suspicious cab that had been idling by the corner for much too long. He jumped up to go investigate, and we'd been sitting for hours. I wasn't really thinking about it when I got up to go after him. Accidentally left my cane behind while we chased a cab around central London, on-foot. It was one of the most ridiculous and exciting things I'd ever done in my life!

Ended up being a bust on the cab at the time. We figured out it was just some tourist riding in the back. When we got back to the flat, Angelo, the bloke who ran the restaurant, came by to drop off my cane. Sherlock had texted him to bring it over for me.

I haven't had to use it since.