Author Notes: I felt like writing a Victorian Sherlock Holmes story, once more and this is the first chapter of it. I am hopeful that I`ll be able to post the next and final chapter, next week or at the latest, in a couple of weeks.

That`s all there is to say and now, Enjoy! :)

Fever and Confusion

I have published the case of The Reigate Puzzle, but I have never gotten around to sharing the whole story with my readers. It has nothing to do with state secrets - since I`m not referring to the affair in which Baron Maupertuis was involved - but to everything that has happened afterwards. I would assure my readers that I haven`t changed any details about the squires of Reigate - and it would be the truth - but I don`t have to bother with it, since this story will never be published. It would be Holmes` and my doom if it was and therefore I only write it down for my private collection - if Holmes doesn`t make me burn it, when he finds it. I`m sure that he hates to read about his own weakness - some would argue that a disease is not a weakness - although nothing would be as it is now if Holmes hadn`t fallen ill after solving a case of international importance.

In The Reigate Puzzle I wrote that Holmes` illness wasn`t serious and that we were back at Baker Street three days after my arrival in Lyon, only to visit my old friend, Colonel Hayter, a week later. Nothing of it was true since our holiday at Hayter`s place was at a later date than I let my readers believe and Holmes` illness had more long lasting consequences than I have let on. But I`m getting ahead of myself here and I`ll try from now on to give an account of the events as they have occurred in chronological order.

I was in for a shock, when I entered Holmes` room at the hotel Dulong. A telegram from the hotel had alerted me to Holmes` illness and I had hurried to his side as fast as possible. A day had passed - at most - between the receiving of the telegram and my arrival at the hotel. Despite my haste to come to my friend`s aid, I hadn`t really entertained the thought that Holmes might be seriously ill. In all the years of our friendship, Holmes had never caught any of the nastier diseases I could think of. I couldn`t even remember that he had ever suffered from so much as a cold. He had only ever needed my expertise as a doctor after encounters with criminals. Therefore I had seen Holmes` with a ugly gash at his arm or a laceration on his head, but I had never... seen him in such a bad state as he was now.

A gasp escaped my lips as I stepped next to the bed, in which Holmes was lying. His face was of a feverish pink that couldn`t completely cover the ghastly grey ting of the skin underneath the flush. Pearls of sweat glistened on Holmes` forehead and his breathing came in labored pants past his dry and torn lips. Dear God, I thought with a trace of panic, Holmes looked terrible! I knew very well that this wasn`t the best reaction for an experienced doctor and my heart wouldn`t have sped up at the sight of any other patient in such a state, but this was Holmes. My best friend, the most brilliant man I knew, the only consulting detective in the world and the...

No, I banned the last thought in the deepest corner of my mind and took a steadying breath. Now, wasn`t the time to panic, just because I hadn`t expected Holmes to be so ill or because I had never seen him so weak before. I was here to help Holmes - as a doctor - and support him - as a friend - and so far I hadn`t acted well on either part.

"Holmes," I spoke, not sure if he was asleep - his eyes were closed - and if he had even noticed my entrance. His eyelids fluttered slightly and he turned his head in the direction of my voice, but without opening his eyes completely. "My dear Watson," his voice was hoarse and raspy, but I would never be able to couch how happy I was in this moment to know that Holmes recognized me. "Yes, Holmes, I`m here to take care of you."

Carefully I sat down on the edge of the bed and touched my hand to his forehead. It was as I had predicted - hot and sweaty - and it laid out my next tasks for me. Firstly, the fever had to be brought down. Elevated temperature wasn`t bad and could even help the body to fight a disease, but my experience told me that Holmes` fever was much too high to let it run its course unsupervised.

"Are you in pain?" I asked as I let my fingers travel to his throat to take his pulse. Holmes` heartbeat was strong and steady, although a little too fast in his lying position. "Everywhere," Holmes eyes finally cracked open. His usually sharp gaze was dulled by fever and pain and my heart clenched at the sight. I would rather have Holmes belittle my intellect every day than for him to look like he was knocking on Death`s door. Still, I forced myself to remain professional, although I couldn`t keep myself from stroking a sweaty strand from his forehead. "Do you have rheumatic pains? A headache? Is your chest hurting when you are breathing?"

I could tell that speaking was hard for Holmes, but I had to know exactly what I was dealing with. A bad cold - made worse because Holmes had neglected his body over the duration of the case - I could deal with, but if it was pneumonia or even a more exotic disease - it would be fitting for Holmes to get something unique - I would have to call a specialist. Holmes swallowed a few times, wetting his lips with his tongue - which made it obvious that he had to have at least a sore throat - before he was able to answer me. "My limbs hurt... and my head. No problems... breathing."

I nodded and pulled out my notebook to write his symptoms down. So far, they led me to believe that he was suffering from a common cold, but the fever was worrying me. No matter how harmless its cause was, it had to be lowered. "When have you drunk anything for the last time? Eaten?"

Holmes furrowed his brow slightly and that was an answer in itself. If my friend had to think about the answer to this question then it had to be some time, since he had gotten any fluids into his body, not to mention meals. I wouldn`t be surprised to learn that Holmes had lived on toast and water for the better part of the last months and I didn`t like that idea - neither as a doctor nor as his friend.

"I don`t know."

My eyes snapped up to Holmes` as my friend shook his head, an expression of annoyance on his face. He hated to not know anything and I could only imagine how bad Holmes felt if he wasn`t even able to recall the answer to such a simple question. Still, I wouldn`t put it past him to have deleted the last time he had eaten anything. It would be just like him, but dwelling on it wouldn`t speed along his recovery. I heaved a sigh and then decided on the next course of actions. I had brought my medical kit with me and I retrieved the clinical thermometer from it. I was already aware that Holmes` fever had to be high, but I wanted to have an accurate temperature, so that I could see if my later efforts were able to bring it down.

"I have to take your temperature, Holmes." His eyes had fallen close again, in the time it had taken me to retrieve my equipment, but now they snapped open once more. If the usual icy blue of my friend`s eyes hadn`t been glassy and dull, I would have laughed at the almost comical way they widened. I didn`t have to be a genius to guess what Holmes was thinking about right now. Maybe, at some other time, I would have teased him a little, but the pathetic state my friend was in, didn`t allow me such actions. I was a professional doctor after all. "Open your mouth and don`t bite on the thermometer, it`s filled with mercury. Try not to fall asleep either, I`ll inform the staff what else I need to speed along your recovery." Holmes didn`t say anything as he opened his mouth and allowed me to put the thermometer under his tongue. His eyes were already half-closed again, but I noticed that he made an effort to stay awake. I just hoped that he would be successful, for another few minutes. Normally, it wasn`t a problem for him to stay up and high alerted all night, but it was obvious that Holmes wouldn`t be able to fight against his body`s needs for much longer this time.

Heaving another sigh, I suppressed the urge to stroke his feverish cheek - with my luck, Holmes would remember that action later - and went to fetch one of the staff members. Fortunately, the director of the hotel had ordered one of the housemaids to stay on our floor, in order to act on Holmes` and my every wish and it wasn`t beyond me to take advantage of that. After informing her that we needed lukewarm water with vinegar, cotton towels, tea, soup for Holmes and dinner for myself, I returned to Holmes` room.

I almost feared that he had fallen asleep once more, but when I leaned over his still form, Holmes` eyes flattered open. Good, I smiled slightly and retrieved the thermometer carefully from his mouth, only to curse a second later. "Holy mother of... that`s 39 point seven, Holmes! You are practically burning up!"

The fever was much too high for a common cold, but I wouldn`t have been as worried as I was, if the man in bed had been anyone else. It wasn`t that I didn`t feel with my patients - I did - but Holmes was much more important to me than someone else and besides... I didn`t know a man, who had less adipose than my friend. I had told Holmes time and time again that he had to eat more when he was working on a case. The lack of reserves would probably slow down his recovery... but Holmes would be restored back to health, that I swore to myself.

"I always knew that you would push your body past your limits one day and now I have to figure out how to nurse you back to health!" It was no way of speaking with a patient I was well aware of that - but worry clouded my mind and I would have done something much worse - like kissing Holmes` forehead and telling him that everything would be fine - if I hadn`t chosen these words as an outlet.

"Watson," I prepared myself for a Holmes` typical reprimand for my chosen words, but a knock on the door saved me from it. I went to open it and two maids brought a basin with lukewarm water, another carried a whole stack of towels and a trolley table was brought in by a fourth one. If I had had any doubt left how highly the work of my friend was regarded, it would have been erased at this sight. If I asked, they would probably send the medical attendant of the Prime Minister to take care of Holmes and it would be the least they could do after my friend had ruined his health for their case. Still, as long as I thought I was up to the task of taking care of my friend, I wouldn`t ask a stranger to see to Holmes.

Calm settled over me as I directed the maids where to put everything. It wasn`t any different from working together with nurses and I could hold onto the familiarity of it. And God only knew, I needed everything I could hold onto if I didn`t want my worries for Holmes to overtake me.

"Is there something else, you will need, Doctor Watson?" One of the girls asked as everything was placed where it needed to be and I didn`t even hesitate to answer. "Someone has to fetch Antipyrin or Antifebrin from the chemist`s. I`ll provide the money and..." The girl shook her head, even as she wrote down the names of the medicaments. "The bills for Mr. Holmes` medical treatment will be covered from someone else, Doctor Watson." I didn`t inquire about the name of the person, who was paying for it and only nodded my thanks. It wasn`t important, as long as Holmes recovered.

The maids left after I had assured them, that I would be able to handle everything else and I turned my attention back to my friend. Holmes was lying very still, but he startled when I turned back the sheet to apply the first leg compress. "Watson..."

I hated how hoarse his voice sounded. Not even after smoking for hours did Holmes ever sound like that. And I admitted freely that I would rather watch him chain-smoking - no matter how often I protested against it - than see him weak in the claws of a fever. "The leg compresses will hopefully help to bring the fever down and I have also ordered Antipyrin or Antifebrin to be brought for you." Talking about medical facts helped me to keep my focus as I pushed Holmes` nightshirt back to his knees to wrap the first wet, linen towel around his calf. Declaredly, it shouldn`t be erotic to wrap towels around your best friend`s leg to decrease his body temperature and I certainly wasn`t getting off on Holmes` illness, but... I had imagined Holmes` naked legs so often by now - in various positions - that it was hard not to be effected at all.

"Antipyrin is on the market since 1883 and Antifebrin is only for purchase since January, but from the reports I have read, they are both very effective. In combination with the leg compresses, I`m sure that you will be better soon." I directed a reassuring smile - the one reserved for patients - at Holmes as I tucked the covers back around him. The compresses would have to come off in ten minutes, otherwise they could play havoc with his circulation. Nevertheless, it was enough time to get some liquids in Holmes... and maybe even something to eat.

Wordlessly, I poured tea - fennel - for Holmes and brought the mug and the bowl with soup on a tray to his bedside. Rice soup with chicken, I noted - very nutritive and perfect for sick people - as I sat down on the edge of the bed - the tray placed on the nightstand. "We have to get you hydrated, again. Do you think you can sit up?" Holmes couldn`t and so I slung an arm around his back and brought the mug to his lips as he slowly sipped his tea. Our eyes didn`t meet once while he drunk and I swore to myself that I would never comment on that situation ever again, in order to spare Holmes` dignity. It was bad enough that I would probably never forget how the muscles of his back felt through the thin fabric of the nightshirt or how warm Holmes` breath was as he exhaled slowly.

"Very good," I praised him as I put the mug away and reached for the bowl of soup. "It would be great if you are able to eat some of the soup, since your body needs the strength to fight whatever you have caught."

"Watson," Holmes` voice was still a little hoarse, although the tea had helped somewhat as he put a hand on my arm. "You don`t have to... do this."

The soup was momentarily forgotten as I stared at Holmes. Was he so terrified of being seen ill by me that he would rather have someone else taking care of him? It would make sense and of course, I would abide to his wishes... although I didn`t want to. The imagination that someone else would hold Holmes when he drank or helped him to the bathroom was unbearable. "Of course, I have to do that. I`m your Doctor, remember."

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say as Holmes` face fell. "How could I forget... that you are my... Doctor, Watson? You don`t act like... anything else, since you...have arrived. I`m sorry that I`m... such a burden." Usually, Holmes` words would have sounded cynic at such a topic, but right now, he only managed to rasp them out and it made him appear even more helpless.

I swallowed hard as I looked down into the feverish eyes of my friend. "You are not a burden, Holmes." A snore that ended in a cough emerged from his throat as he shook his head slightly. "Don`t pretend otherwise, Watson. I might be... ill, but I`m not... stupid. You get out of... your way to be nothing but... professional." Holmes averted his eyes and stared down at the duvet that covered him from neck to toes. "I told them... to call you, because... you are my only... friend, but obviously I miscalculated..."

"No!" I shook my head vehemently as Holmes` words finally started to make sense. Without a second thought, I placed my hand on top of his and squeezed it slightly. "I`m your friend, your best friend, it`s just," I took a shaky breath and cursed myself for making Holmes even more uncomfortable, when he was ill, while I tried to find the right words to put his mind at ease, without giving my true feelings away. "I had to act professional, if I hadn`t treated you like any other patient, I would have gone crazy."

Blue eyes met mine once more. "Why?"

This time, it was my turn to snort as I gave his hand another squeeze. "Because I worry about you, Holmes. A great deal more than I worry about any of my other patients. I`m sorry if I made you feel like a burden and I assure you that I wouldn`t want to be anywhere else than at your side right now."

A weak smile turned Holmes` lips up and I was all too aware that I wouldn`t have been allowed to see it, if the fever hadn`t lowered his defenses. I managed a small smile in return and reached for the bowl of soup once more. Holmes allowed me to place the tray on his lap, so that I was able to help him sit up - with an arm around his back - and bring the spoon to his lips with the other hand. If he hadn`t already been flushed from the fever, I was certain that a crimson blush would have covered his cheeks, when he opened his mouth for me to feed him.

I knew how he felt, having experienced helplessness and frustration at my own weakness, when I had been wounded in Afghanistan and unable to do so much as sit up on my own. Still, I was sure that the nurses who had changed my dressings and fed me, hadn`t experienced such tender emotions as I experienced with Holmes almost cradled in my arms. Dear God, how was I supposed to care for my friend, when my heart ached with a bitter-sweet pain from such a chaste contact as this?

Of course, I thought as I stroked Holmes` back absently and offered him another spoonful of soup, I could still hide my feelings behind my professionalism, but... I didn`t want to hurt Holmes. My friend would certainly be mortified at his confession that he needed me more as a friend than a doctor - when Holmes was back to his old self - and never mention the conversation again. Still, I couldn`t pretend that I had forgotten about it and I would make sure to show Holmes how much I cared for him - at least, as much as was safe for me - until he was well enough to tell me to stop coddling him.

"You know, when you are fit again, we should go away on a holiday in the countryside." Holmes only arched an eyebrow at me and accepted another portion of soup. "If you think... you will get me to agree now... you wouldn`t take... advantage of a sick man... would you, Watson?"

"It would do you good, Holmes." He shook his head and I didn`t press the matter as I offered him the last bite of soup and then put the tray away on the nightstand. Holmes had eaten more than I had hoped for and he was by far more lucid than I would have thought possible after taking his temperature. Most men would be delirious, but I should counted on Holmes` stubbornness to give into such weakness.

"Lay back down," I fluffed up the pillow and led him in a lying position. "I`ll take off the leg compression and when you have taken your medicament, you can go back to sleep."

"I hate that... my body is betraying me... like this," Holmes murmured as I tucked the covers back around him after having taken off the towels. His eyes were already half-closed once more and the lines on his face were more pronounced than usual. No matter how lucid Holmes might appear, it was obvious that the fever took a toll on his body. "Maybe, your body wanted to remind you that you can`t exist without it." Usually such a comment would have earned me a lecture about the unimportance of the transport - as Holmes called his body - but this time, my friend didn`t even manage a sneer. "You will be your typical, annoying and brilliant self in no time, I promise." Of my own accord, my hand moved to his - alarming hot - forehead and smoothed his hair, before stroking Holmes` cheek gently.

Blue eyes flattered open and I prepared myself for Holmes` anger. I was certain that he would remind me that I didn`t have to act like a worried housewife, just because he had told me to behave like a friend. Though, to my surprise, no words were forthcoming. His eyes kept staring at me wordlessly - surprised and happy in equal parts - and I looked right back at him. This was the most intimate moment that had ever transpired between us. Holmes in bed - looking open and trustingly at me - and my hand connected to his warm skin. A breath caught in my chest as a bitter-sweet ache bloomed in my ribcage. We were so close and yet, I was well aware that it was the closest we would ever get. If one of us were a woman, it would have been acceptable to press a chaste kiss to Holmes` forehead - or even his lips - but as it was that would never happen.

Oh, I was well aware that there were men who kissed other men and I wasn`t a hypocrite to pretend that I didn`t belong to them. At least, a part of me was interested in men, while the other part was utterly fascinated by the fairer sex. That was, before I had met Holmes - six years ago - and every other human being had ceased to hold any appeal for me any longer. Yes, Holmes held my heart in his hands - without knowing - and I would never be allowed to tell him about my feelings. Even if I doubted that my friend would hand me over to the authorities, I was also aware that Holmes would never return my feelings. His work was what he lived for. He didn`t handle feelings well and I didn`t want to force him to throw me out of Baker Street and...

A knock at the door stopped me from sinking deeper into my darkest fears and I left Holmes` bedside to get the medicament from the maid. She had also provided another tray of tea and a jar with water, which I carried back to Holmes. "Antifebrin shall taste awfully, but it`s also very effective," I informed Holmes as I added twenty drops of the medicament to a spoon.

Holmes did neither answer nor protest in any way as I held up his head to give him the medicine and some water to wash it down with. Obviously, his body had decided that it was time to get more rest as his deep breathing suggested. I stroked his forehead one more time, before preparing one of the comfortable armchairs for my watch over my friend and settled down in it with my dinner.

OOO

"No!"

I jerked awake. The room was dark, but for the dim light of a lamp, I had left burning on the coffee table. It took me only a few seconds to recall where I was and why I was there in the first place. The fact that I had fallen asleep in an armchair and another panicked cry from the direction of the bed helped a lot by getting my wits back together.

"No, please! No!"

Cold dread filled my heart as I got up from my chair and hurried to Holmes` side. He had slept peacefully, when I had last checked on him - a couple of hours ago - but that was a story of the past. My friend was wriggling around on the bed, tangled up in the sheets and obviously fighting against some invisible threat. Sweat glistened on his forehead - visible as I turned on the lamp on the nightstand - and pained breaths escaped his mouth every few seconds. I touched my hand to his forehead, only to have Holmes flinching away so violently that he almost fell out of the bed. "No, don`t!"

I had never felt so helpless in my life before as I did now. Yes, I had lain in a military hospital in Afghanistan, without knowing if I was going to survive, but that experience paled in comparison to the horror I felt at seeing Holmes like that. The strongest and most brilliant man, shaken by panic and fear, while caught in a fever induced nightmare.

Holmes turned on his back again, his hands stretched out in a defensive gesture as more sweat pearled from his forehead. I knew that I had to wake him, that there was no excuse for just staying there and watching him suffer, but I was frozen to the spot. I couldn`t imagine something more horrible than seeing my friend like that and I was sure that Holmes would be mortified if he ever learned of that episode. Maybe, it would be better if I just made sure that he didn`t hurt himself and allowed the nightmare to end on its own. The brief touch to his forehead had at least confirmed that his temperature hadn`t risen once more. Indeed, the sweating was rather an indicator that the fever was breaking. The nightmare was probably caused by the stress Holmes` body experienced, while fighting his illness. I tried to calm myself with these thoughts, although my mind screamed at me to wake Holmes and take him in my arms, even if my friend would never forgive me such an action. I clenched my fists at my side and forced myself to keep strong as another scream sounded from Holmes.

"Not him... Please, not him! John!"

I was kneeling on the mattress, before I even registered that my body had moved and put my hands on Holmes` shoulders. It was the wrong move, since my friend only started struggling harder, when my weight restricted his mobility farther. He kicked out with his legs and grabbed one of my wrists with his hands as he tried to break free.

"Holmes," I pleaded, a little panicked that my touch hadn`t woken him right away. "Wake up! You are having a nightmare." My words didn`t have any effect as Holmes just kept struggling against my grip and almost managed to throw me off of the bed as he bolted upright in an attempt to get rid of me. Cursing, I moved to straddle Holmes` legs and pinned his wrists next to his head on the pillow as I didn`t fancy to spot a black eye in the morning. Of course, that move only seemed to intensive Holmes` nightmare as heart wrenching whimpers fell from his lips.

"Holmes, it`s alright," I tried again, getting desperate when a strangled sob was torn from my friend`s lips. "Please, Holmes," I begged and debated if it would be wise to get some cold water to wake him up. The shock of such a sudden wakening would certainly be more welcome than whatever horrors Holmes lived through in his mind. And I wouldn`t be able to stand watching him much longer - how had I even been able to think of letting the nightmare pass on it`s on?

I leaned forwards a little, so that my face was only a few inches away from Holmes - and hoped that I wouldn`t receive a clout for my efforts. "Holmes, it`s I, Watson... John Watson," I added as I recalled how Holmes had called out my Christian name in his sleep. I didn`t dare hoping that my words would make a difference, but my friend grew very still suddenly and gave up his helpless struggles as he gasped for breath.

"John?" There wasn`t any time to wonder why Holmes was calling me by my Christian name as I let go of his wrists and stroked his cheek with one hand. My friend leaned into the touch, his eyes still closed and I breathed a small sigh of relief. "Yes, I`m here. You are safe, it`s alright."

A shaky breath escaped Holmes` lips and he cracked his eyes open a little as he looked up at me. It was obvious that he wasn`t fully awake yet, since his gaze was still unfocused as it wandered over me. "John, you are unharmed."

By now, my name sounded almost familiar, falling from his lips and a small smile passed over my features. I had always dreamed about Holmes calling me by my given name. No matter that these fantasies had involved different scenarios, but the position we found ourselves in right now - I straddling his thighs, while lying in bed with - could have been directly taken from my mind. I was aware that I shouldn`t read too much in Holmes` actions, when he was in delirium, but at the same time, I knew that I would never forget how my name sounded on Holmes` tongue.

"They tortured you, before my eyes," Holmes` voice shook with emotions as he extended a hand to touch my face. I allowed him the contact, since it was obvious that my friend needed to convince himself that I was alright. Warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought that Holmes had been so distressed, because his nightmare had been about I being tortured. It proved that my friend cared about me and even if it was never going to be in the way, I cared for him, that knowledge was enough for me.

"No one tortured me, Holmes. You had a nightmare, induced by your fever." Wide, blue eyes gazed at me in wonder as Holmes` hand kept exploring my face and I was aware that he wasn`t lucid at all. The gentle smile on my friend`s face wouldn`t exist if Holmes had all his wits about.

"They knew how much you mean to me, John and... they wanted to hurt me by hurting you." Holmes` relaxed smile was replaced by a grimace of distress. I feared that he was going to sink into another nightmare and cradled his face in my hands to force Holmes to keep his eyes fixed on me. "No one hurt me, Holmes. I`m fine, really."

I didn`t know if my words or my touch calmed him, but at least the tension drained from his features as Holmes relaxed back against the pillow. "Yes, you are fine... my dear boy." To my horror a tear slid down his cheek and wet my finger as Holmes blinked up at me. "I couldn`t live... without you, John. It would be... like living without... my heart."

I gasped, my blood rushed through my veins as my heart pounded against my ribcage. Holmes couldn`t mean what I wanted to believe he meant, right? It was impossible - although he didn`t know what he was talking about right now- that Holmes would ever feel like this... for me.

"I always wanted to tell you... how much I love you, John."

I was frozen on the spot, unable to do anything as Holmes leaned up and pressed his thin lips against mine. The brief contact sent sparks of fire through my whole body and my lips prickled meaningfully. It was like a dream had come through and... My eyes met Holmes` glassy ones as he smiled sleepily up at me, before his eyelids dropped shut. Right, I reminded myself as Holmes` breath evened out and he sank into a - hopefully - dreamless sleep, my friend had only kissed me because he was ill. The fever had forced Holmes to act so out of character.

I took a shaky breath as I climbed off the bed and moved to stand in front of the closed window. After drawing the curtains back, I was able to look out on the dimly lit street in front of the hotel. No people were outside, not even drunkards and the utter silence of the night, made the experience with Holmes even more unrealistic. Yes, I knew that I hadn`t imagined the kiss - although that wouldn`t be the first time - since my lips still tingled, when I touched my fingers to them. Still, it wouldn`t make much of a difference, if I had indeed imagined it, since it wasn`t more tangible than a dream by now, Holmes was still out of my reach and I would be a fool to believe that he had wanted the kiss.

Oh, alright - I pressed my head against the cold glass of the window and watched as my breath steamed the glass up - Holmes had wanted to kiss me back then. Some people would argue that dreams reveal our most hidden desires and secrets, especially if we were caught in a delirium and our defenses were lowered It would be nice if I were able to believe in such nonsense as well, but as a doctor it was impossible. I had watched a mother trying to kill her baby, when the fever had wrecked havoc with her mind and a fellow soldier had started speaking with a snake in his delirium. The mother had loved her baby and had been out of her mind with guilt, when she had come back to herself - the baby was unharmed. My fellow soldier had been terrified of snakes since we had arrived in Afghanistan and that hadn`t changed after he had recovered. So, most people acted rather out of character when they were caught in a fever induced dream and I doubted that Holmes was the exception.

With a sigh, I drew the curtains closed again and glanced at Holmes` sleeping form in the bed. My friend had certainly acted out of character - I crushed the small hope in my heart with that thought - and Holmes wouldn`t remember anything about that night when he woke up in the morning. It was for the better, I convinced myself as I settled down in my armchair and covered myself with an afghan. I probably wouldn`t be able to go back to sleep tonight, but at least I would be able to watch over Holmes while I tried to forget that the kiss had ever taken place.

OOO

It wasn`t easy to forget the kiss - the feel of Holmes` dry lips on mine - especially not, when I was forced to spend most of my time in the presence of my friend... Fine, it was impossible to forget the kiss and it was hard not to think of it every few seconds, when my gaze fell on my friend.

Holmes had been much better in the morning - 38 point four when I had taken his temperature - and he hadn`t remembered the nightmare... or what had happened afterwards. I pretended that everything was fine, when I ordered breakfast and gave him some more of the Antifebrin. I thought that I was acting perfectly in character, when I took Holmes` half eaten plate away - and told him that he would have to eat something for lunch as well - when my friend`s words shattered that illusion. "What`s wrong, Watson?" His eyes were still tired - his mind probably slowed down by the fever - but his gaze was almost as piercing as ever. A shudder ran down my spine and my lips prickled at the memory of last night even as my heart skipped a beat in fear. Holmes couldn`t possibly be able to read what I was trying to hide from him, could he? I had brushed my teeth and shaved, as well as changed my clothes, before Holmes had even woken up, so there shouldn`t be any evidence of the kiss left. My friend must have picked up on some stupid change in my usual behavior, nothing else.

I shook my head as I offered him a cup of tea and then - in a sudden flash of inspiration - I stretched my back and smiled apologetically at Holmes. "My back didn`t like me spending the whole night in the armchair. It`s a little sore, that`s all." Holmes narrowed his eyes as he sipped from his tea and then glanced at the armchair in question. "You should probably get a room for yourself to sleep in." Holmes glanced down at his hands that held the cup of tea. "I don`t want you to ruin your health for my sake, my dear chap."

I bit down hard on my lower lip to keep myself from reacting in any way to Holmes` obvious affection for me. It wasn`t the first time that he had called me dear chap and it was perfectly normal between friends. I had to stop reading anything into it, before Holmes was completely back to his old self and able to deduce what was going on in my mind.

"I won`t leave you alone, as long as you are ill." Holmes glared at me and I stopped any forthcoming arguments by making a compromise. "I`ll ask the hotel director to bring a stretcher bed to the room. My back should be able to endure that for a week."

"A week?!" Holmes` eyes widened in dismay as he echoed my words and if I hadn`t had so much other things on my mind, I would have laughed at his disbelieving look. As it was, I only nodded in confirmation. "Yes, at least a week." I glared at my friend as he made to throw back the blankets. "You are staying in bed, until I say otherwise or it will be even longer than a week until you are fully recovered." Holmes pursed his lips, but no argument came and that was more telling of his condition than anything else. My friend usually hated to stay in bed and follow Doctor`s orders, even when he was seriously injured. Holmes had to feel worse than he let on as he lay back against the pillow and nodded slowly at my words. "You will have to find something to entertain me then, Watson, if you don`t want me to go crazy from boredom."

Of its own accord my mind flew back to the kiss and how easy it would be to take Holmes` mind of his illness if I were allowed to... No, these were dangerous thoughts and I shouldn`t entertain them with my friend present, otherwise Holmes would spot my hidden feelings for him faster than I could blink.

"I`ll ask the staff where the next bookstore is and bring you something to occupy yourself with," I said instead of announcing that I could lie down with him to keep him busy.

"Just none of these stupid adventure stories you are so fond of, my dear boy." I grinned as Holmes slipped off to sleep again and only then did I allow my expression to fall. Dear God, how was I supposed to take care of Holmes for a week, when all I could think of was that one, brief contact of our lips? It would be fine for another couple of days, but then Holmes would start feeling better every day and when he was back to his old, brilliant self, he would certainly notice that something was amiss and...

I straightened my back and moved to fetch the director to ask for a stretcher bed and organize some interesting books for Holmes. I had invaded Afghanistan - for Christ`s sake - I should be able to go through a week with my friend, without giving myself away.

OOO

Somehow I had survived the week. Tiredly, I sank down in my usual armchair at Baker Street - after having unpacked my belongings - and stared into the dancing flames in the fireplace. Holmes hadn`t suffered any relapses after that one fever induced nightmare and he had recovered nicely. Faster than I had expected as well. After a couple of days in bed, I had had to argue with him every couple of hours that he stayed in bed, since Holmes hadn`t accepted that his body needed rest to heal completely.

Really, how my friend had lived to his age was a miracle to me, since he didn`t give a damn about his own body. I couldn`t even recall how I had been able to convince him to stay at the hotel for a whole week, before going back to Baker Street. Of course, Holmes would have been fit to travel after less time, but since I had been aware that he wouldn`t take the time to regain his strength - when he was home again - I had insisted on staying.

I dragged a wary hand over my face. For the duration of our stay at the hotel, my mind had tortured me with the memory of our kiss time and time again. It was no wonder that Holmes had remarked - more often than not - that I appeared withdrawn. After all, my friend solemnly missed something and I had been the only person in the room with him for a lot of time. It was only logical that he would notice how I tried to keep my distance from him, in order not to make a fatal mistake... like kissing him again!

A groan escaped my lips. It had been hard enough to keep my feelings to myself, before, but now - that I knew how Holmes` lips felt on mine- it appeared to be impossible. My gaze wandered through the living-room - over the Persian slipper with Holmes tobacco and the stacks of paper next to the table - only to have my eyes linger on the desk with the chemical equipment. Could I truly stay here?

Right now, Holmes wasn`t at home - he had taken off to God knew where right after his return - and I still wasn`t able to get him out of my head. How much worse would it be whenever he sat across from me - smoking his pipe in only his pajamas and dressing grown - and looking at me with friendly eyes?

I had the cigarette between my lips and lit, before I had even thought of smoking and the first inhale calmed my nerves a little. When I was halfway through the cigarette I had come to a decision. It wasn`t an easy one, but necessary if I didn`t want to destroy my friendship with Holmes beyond repair.

I had to move out!