Sherlock stumbled into the flat. I looked up to see him covered in blood, his usually pale face even paler. "Wha- Sherlock!" I jumped up and wrapped my arm around his waist, draping his arm over my shoulder and helping him along. "What happened to you?" I asked, sitting him down and looking for some sort of first aid kit.
"I was looking for a killer and ran into this gang. There were six of them."
"Sounds like a fair fight..." I mumbled, pulling out the first aid kit. I grabbed a washcloth for the kitchen and wet it.
"I know. I could've taken at least eight." Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and I spun around quickly.
"There's obviously something wrong! I'm a doctor, not a mind reader you know."
He nodded and closed his eyes, face creased in pain. "My chest," he muttered through clenched teeth. I nodded and started unbuttoning his shirt to reveal several colorful bruises and a deep and long gash.
"Jesus Sherlock..." I muttered, grabbing the washcloth f...