Chapter 4
Watson returned that night, at nearly 10 o'clock, much the worse for wear, leaning heavily on his cane in one hand, the stair banister with the other, and covered in a mess of blood.
He stuck his head into the sitting room momentarily, nodding to Holmes who stood immediately upon seeing him, then trudged the remaining stairs to his bedroom where he promptly collapsed into his bed, messy clothes and all.
He heard a tapping on the door and before he could grunt in either affirmative or negative, Holmes pushed the door open. Forcing one eye open, Watson saw Holmes set down a cup and saucer of presumably tea on his bedside table and retrieve Watson's thermometer from his bag.
"Holmes. I told you-" but before he could finish he broke off coughing, sitting up and clutching the blanket under him.
Holmes handed him a glass of water when the coughing fit ended and replied, "Of course you're fine. But as a man of logic, I need proof of this, and since you are so certain, you should have no consternations against my gathering evidence."
Defeated, Watson allowed Holmes to place the thermometer under his tongue and waited the allotted time for it to come out. Just as he was starting to drift off, he felt the glass stick slide out of his mouth and vaguely heard a low sigh from the direction Holmes stood.
"102, doctor. I would recommend bed rest, though in much warmer and… cleaner conditions." He said the last bit wrinkling his nose slightly.
Having finally changed into his nightgown and drinking nearly half of the tea Holmes forced into him, Watson curled up under the duvet on his bed and fell into a much needed sleep.