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Holmes and Watson - HurtCracked ribs, fractured jaw, broken nose, several bruises, possible internal bleeding. Fantastic.
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Watson had known Holmes for years, and yet it never seized amaze him how this man deliberately sought out violent encounters. He sighed, and grabbed a cloth and some disinfectant from the side table. Dampening the cloth with the disinfectant, he moved to cleanse his friend's wounds.
Holmes hissed when he brushed the cloth over a rather large gash in his abdomen. Watson glanced at him, and moved to examine the cut that was quite clearly
"A knife wound? Holmes, you told me it was a fist fight!"
"Fists, knives, cannons! What difference does it make? The bottom line is, I am injured and in need of your expert skills as a doctor." Holmes paused to take a breath. "Besides, I knew that if you knew what I was doing, you would have made a scene."
"Made a scene?" Watson huffed. "When have I ever made a scene?"
"You're making one right now, old friend," Holmes pointed out casually.