It had been three weeks since I had last heard from my friend Sherlock Holmes. My soon-to-be wife, Mary, was going out of town to see a relative, and so while she was out doing this, I only thought it right to check up on him. As I rounded the corner and strolled down the familiar path of Baker Street, I was surprised to hear no violin music, no screams of Mrs Hudson's horror at what Holmes had done, and not even the faintest scent of an experiment gone wrong- or right. I was not sure whether to be thankful or concerned at this.

The moment I entered through the doorway of 221B Baker Street, I was ambushed by Mrs Hudson. "Doctor Watson! How are you, dear? You look well! Would you like a cup of tea?" Her sweet smile was familiar, and it was nice. "Thank you, Mrs Hudson. Tea would be wonderful. Is Holmes in his room?" I questioned, motioning towards the stairs. "No dear, you just missed him. He's out on a stakeout with the Inspector." She said, walking off towards her kitchen. So that would explain the lack of Holmsian mischief I has sensed... "But you're more than welcome to wait here for him. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. He has missed you so."

I chuckled at this as I made my way into the sitting room. It was exactly as it had been when I had lived here, minus a few things that had belonged to me. Of course the place was all a mess, as was the nature of my companion. I sat in my old chair and looked through the newspapers on the table, trying to find a clue as to what Holmes was out doing.

~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~SH~

A few hours had passed, and Holmes still had not shown up. It was getting late, and rain had began to thrum steadily on the window. I wondered for a moment just where Holmes could possibly be, and why a simple stakeout would take so long, when the door downstairs slammed closed. A smile found it's way to my face involuntarily as I stood, but fell quickly as Holmes stepped in the door. His clothes clung to him, heavy from rain, his face was pale except for two heightened spots on color in his cheeks, and dark circles loomed under his eyes, which shone brightly. "Watsod!" His voice sounded scratchy as well, and quite congested... But his smile was wide. "What ARE you doigg here? I've just returned frob a stakeout with Idspector Lestrade, as I'b sure Mrs Hudsod has idforbed you... Eh... hih... Haishoo! HetCHOO! "

"Bless you, Holmes! Are you ill?" I asked, moving towards him so we were only about arms length away. "Just a slight head cold, Watsod, dothigg you deed to worry about. But this case-" I cut him off briskly, grabbing his shoulders and placing my hand on his forehead. He definitely had a fever. Nothing too high or worrisome, but just enough so that he should have at least enough common sense to stay out of work! But that was just Holmes. He pulled away quickly, then pulled out his handkerchief. "Ah...Heh... HASHOO! H'xXnG! HepNxXGnT!

"What were you thinking, going out ill like that? You've probably done your cold worse! Sometimes Holmes, I swear you are such a child! And I can't always be here to take care of you!" While scolding him, I had forced him into his chair and was now crouched down in front of him. His brown puppy-like eyes stared up at me as he sniffled pathetically. "Watsod, please. There is do deed to bake a fuss over a bloody cold!" I rolled my eyes at him. "Except with you, Holmes, there is! Because you can never have the common sense to just stay in bed! I swear, you could wake up one morning with the bloody Plague and still head out with the yard!"

He sighed and rested his head in his hands. "So sidce Mary is gode for the dext few days, I suppose I've got by old persodal doctor back?" I chuckled softly and ruffled his hair. "I suppose... But just for the remainder of the week." I turned to go ask Mrs Hudson to prepare some tea for Holmes, and I swear I could feel my friend's features fall.