From Hades Lord of the Dead: Watson studying medicine in his university days.

T'was the night after Rag Week, and all round the quad

St. Andrew's young hopefuls were praying to God

These last days of revision might just be enough

To show their professors they had the right stuff.

~0~

Watson sighed as he trudged up the stairs to his room,

Heavy books only serving to deepen his gloom.

Nervous systems and skeletons danced in his head

With two hours of study still left before bed.

~0~

Then out from his dorm room there came a great sneeze,

Its victim proceeding to cough, hack and wheeze.

Watson winced – he'd forgotten his roommate was ill;

Of Peter's complaint he had quite had his fill.

~0~

"Any better, old chap?" Watson set his books down,

The thump causing Peter MacDonald to frown.

"Oh, my head! Watson, must you? I've never felt worse!"

"Well, first thing tomorrow, I'll order the hearse."

~0~

From Peter's expression, he'd failed to amuse,

Sharp retort quickly lost in a string of 'achoo's.

Any hopes of more reading tonight were soon gone,

As sneezing and groaning continued anon.

~0~

Watson grimaced, then laid down a treatise on sutures,

Giving up on his books for foreseeable future.

To be ill for exams would be wretched indeed,

And what kind of doctor ignored a friend's need?

~0~

The linctus was foul, he would much rather cough;

The blankets too hot, Watson must take them off!

His head and back ached, how he wished he were dead...

Why was Watson so quiet, was it something he'd said?

~0~

But at last the small hours brought the invalid sleep,

Watson greatly relieved – he'd a schedule to keep!

Fussy patients might well come in constant succession,

But one more such roommate, he'd rethink his profession...