Under the Knife

Locked in another starring contest, I held my breath for his response. He reached up and touched the moustache. Is this the only thing that's fake? On my own life, yes, it is. I don't see any choice but to trust you, just this once. As I reach down to open my bag, that red-faced woman burst in and begins her rant. Warren quiets her down and gets her to leave, could have been my grave expression that finally made the difference.
I locked the door behind her and was straight with Warren about his situation. You're going to have to totally trust me and believe that if I don't perform a procedure on you right now, you're going to die a most horrible death. My methods will be foreign to you, but will do little harm. Let me see both your eyes, Jack. I took off my hat and eye patch. He studied me hard and then nodded. He carefully watched as I put on my otherworldly gear and checked the settings. I briefly explained what was going to happen next and he nodded again.
Lifting his nightshirt, I made a small 4 in long incision, after having swabbed it with antiseptic, on his lower abdomen, blood started to escape the wound and I had to act fast, using my arm band modulator I created a sound frequency that would cause a parasite to home in on or attack the source. Laying my arm to Warren's stomach, I increased the resonance in slow increments, Warren wiped the blood from the cut with the gauze. The scanner registered the creature's movements and it was coming to the surface; it also showed the beginning of a molecular change and if I didn't get that f''ing thing out in the next few seconds...it wouldn't matter.
Just at the crucial moment, the landlady began banging on the door; apparently we were making more of a ruckus than I realized. 
One last turn of the dial and I grab the tongs; the creature's head emerges and I push the tongs down, into Warren's flesh, carefully grasping the middle and pulling out the tail...Yes! its all in tact! Six inches of writhing body and legs, with a barbed head, it lets out a death scream and becomes limp, trapped in the tongs. Oxygen kills them, but they can still do damage if touched, hence the tongs. Opening the window, I lean out and set the little bastard on fire; it crisps, turning to ash in the breeze. No time to waste, back to Warren and his cut. Cleaning it and bandage applied, I use the healing module, great for small cuts only, sealing it up.
Crisis nearly averted, our attention is drawn to the landlady, who is now yelling that she is going for the police; Warren calls out to her as I clean up the mess. Bloody rags stuffed into the bottom of my bag. I hastily shove my tools back in. Warren hands me the eye patch and grins. Odd. I haven't seen that amount of sincerity in a long time. A familiar ache is felt and I know it won't last. With a heavy heart, I turn and let in the really red-faced woman, who seems more like a warden, into the room. She explodes into a string of complaints, concerns, and threats. I decide to keep quiet and pray Warren can reason with her. After some explanation, very far from the truth, and reassurances, she acquiesces and becomes civil. Impressed with Warren's ability to charm people, I could see why he would make a good detective.
Mrs. Bennett, she has a name, says she will bring up Mr. Warren some breakfast and even offers to make me some. I suddenly realized I hadn't eaten much in days and my stomach growls in confirmation loud enough for all to hear. Grins are shared and off trots a pleased Mrs. Bennett.