Hello again! Hrrm, I've got a whopper of a headache at the moment, so you'll excuse me if I make this short. First off, I apologize for the time that's passed since my last update my poor laptop needed to be serviced and I was without his company for some time. :

If this chapter seems a bit strange or poorly written, I apologize in advance. I had a bit of difficulty in writing this one and I'm considering re-writing it (or parts of it). I try not to let any external stimuli effect my writing, but I'm afraid I may have. This makes me very unhappy.

Well, I'm content with it for now, but I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be tired of it. Thank you so much for your reviews once again! They're a pleasure to read; they really do bring a smile to my face! :D

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything or anyone you recognize. Although it would be fun to hug all of them... or air-hug in Holmes's case. Bear hug for Watson and Lestrade!

Chapter VI: Casualties of War

I waited as patiently as possible given the situation, my eyes struggling to see through the dark shroud of night that had fallen over us. When keeping watch with Holmes on previous occasions, the areas we usually chose to hide in were, shall we say, not terribly well furnished. This was a sharp contrast to where I sat at the window now; the comfort offered by the plush sofa was making it difficult to remain awake.

Emily had drifted off some quarter of an hour prior, head resting on the back of the sofa. It was no wonder, for her entire family had most likely been deprived of sleep the previous night. I wondered then, how her brother Edward fared above us on the rooftop. These thoughts only brought me back to the well-being of Holmes and Lestrade. I was discomforted by the fact that I was so far from them with such a limited field of view.

The moon, full though it was, remained primarily obscured by clouds and therefore offered little in the way of light. The wind had begun to pick up, rattling the window panes as though desperate to gain entry, but thankfully there was no further rain to speak of. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room began to sound out the time; the sound of the old bell was somehow foreboding. I counted the chimes.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five...

Ah, midnight, then. I shifted slightly, uncomfortable in the eerie silence left after the grandfather clock had quieted itself once more. My young female companion sighed and shifted, mumbling something, but remaining in the realm of Morpheus. Minutes dragged slowly onward, leaving me anxious and eager to see things proceed. It wasn't long before I got my wish.

It was faint due to the fact that he was out of doors and some distance away, but I was sure when I heard it; Edward had hooted twice. My eyes frantically combed through what little I could see, goose pimples raising on my flesh at the thought that our man had arrived. Shortly after, I heard one more hoot, and another that sounded somewhat delayed.

Leaning forward and straining until I was sure my eyes might pop from their sockets, I just barely managed a glimpse of a man. Or what I assumed was a man. Although taller and more muscular in frame than Holmes, he moved with such animalistic fleetness of foot that for a moment I questioned whether or not my eyes were playing tricks on me. I held my breath as he approached the bait, subconsciously reaching over to gentle stir Emily.

The red-headed young woman woke with a start, rubbing blearily at her eyes. "Dr. Watson... what's going on? What time is—"

"Look, look!" I whispered urgently. "Our man has finally shown himself."

She squinted, leaning forward, only to pull back abruptly, eyes gone wide. We sat in an almost unendurable silence, wondering when the trap would be sprung. I could see that the man was approaching our bait. Just as he reached for it, I detected some slight movement in the oak above. The criminal looked up, but too late, for Holmes had leaped from his perch and onto the man. Te two struggled on the ground for a moment before staggering to their feet. The criminal was poised on his haunches, looking something akin to a fierce tiger while Holmes stood erect, swaying on his feet.

Something was wrong.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than did I watch with horror as my companion's knees buckled and he fell flat upon his face without the criminal so much as laying a hand upon him. I held my breath, waiting for some movement, but he did not stir. Panic suddenly gripped my heart.

"Holmes!" I hollered involuntarily.

Without a thought to how it might ruin his plans or what would happen because of it, I ran from the home towards Holmes's side, Emily hot upon my heels. Lestade's infuriated shouts assaulted my ears as I sprinted across the lawn; I could see the Inspector chasing after the feral man. At the moment, however, I had only one concern.

"Holmes!" I shouted again, dropping to my friend's side.

Emily assisted in gently flipping him onto his back, and I noted anxiously how terribly limp his limbs were. Though unconscious, Holmes's dark brows were drawn together in a pained expression and a thin layer of cold sweat shined upon his forehead. Bringing my fore and middle finger to his throat, I checked his pulse. It was quick and erratic, his chest rising and falling in much the same manner as he struggled for breath.

"What's wrong with him, Dr. Watson?" Emily asked, her wide eyes showing concern as she peered at me through the darkness.

"I... I'm not sure," I answered. "There is no sign of physical injury, and they weren't engaged but for a moment. I suppose it—"

I paused, a thought coming to mind. Something Holmes had said. He was sure the mutilation of both doctors in London had occurred post mortem. The real cause of death was...

"Poison," I gasped.

"What?!" Emily ejaculated.

"He's been poisoned, I'm sure of it," I replied, placing a hand to my friend's forehead. He felt too warm for my liking.

As I began to formulate some idea as to how to help him, I became aware of the sound of horse's hooves galloping towards us. I looked up just as Edward pulled Killarney to a halt. His chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath, and he reached a hand down.

"Dr. Watson, we may still catch him yet. Are you coming?" he asked of me.

I was torn. In his present condition, I did not feel safe leaving Holmes even for a moment, and yet the urge to give our criminal a good throttling was almost overwhelming.

"I'll watch him," Emily piped up.

I looked to her with uncertainty. She glared.

"If you don't go now, he'll get away!" she fumed. "Mr. Holmes would be furious if he knew you had given up for his sake, wouldn't he?"

"Dr. Watson, I'm going — with or without you. Which is it?" Edward asked urgently.

I ground my teeth. I had no way of telling what Holmes had been poisoned with. As much as I hated to leave him, we had a better chance of producing an antidote if we were to hear what he'd been poisoned with straight from the criminal's mouth. Reaching once to reaffirm that my old service revolver was in the pocket of my coat, I rose to my feet, accepting the young man's hand and pulling myself onto the back of the horse.

"Edward!" Emily shouted. He looked to her with surprise, and I saw her face sadden and heard her words soften. "Please. Be careful. Both of you."

Edward nodded and whipped up the reigns of the horse, sending us off with a sudden lurch forward. I kept a firm grip on the young man's shoulders, peering ahead even as we rapidly closed in on our target. Very quickly we had managed to catch up to Lestrade, who hollered something as we passed. My heartbeat quickened as we came within mere yards of our prey, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph at the sight ahead.

Recent heavy rainfall had created a large and terrible crevasse near the base or a natural rock wall. The sheer distance would be impossible for him to clear.

"I think we have him cornered!" I shouted against the wind.

No sooner had I spoke than I was forced to eat my words. With inhuman like agility, the criminal leaped straight over the gap, latching onto the face of the rock wall like a primate before clambering over it.

"Impossible..." I groaned.

I knew we would have to seek an alternate route, and that most surely meant losing his trail. I noticed with a start that Edward wasn't slowing down.

"We have to turn back!" I shouted, pointing ahead.

Edward threw his head back with a wild laugh. "There's no turning back, doctor!"

"Are you mad, man?!" I hollered, seizing him by both shoulders.

Ignoring my plea, Edward whipped the reigns, signaling the horse to go faster. As I watched the rock wall loom closer and closer, I could not help but feel that we would meet our end in the next moment. Yet, even then, I saw a spot where the wall had been worn down, and I knew the young man would attempt to jump it.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as we suddenly became airborne. It was as though we were weightless, suspended in midair. I hardly had time to think about what would happen if we fell short of our mark, for quite suddenly we came crashing down and resumed our furious chase.

"Life is about taking chances! He won't escape us!" Edward yelled, turning his head to glance at me briefly, the wind whipping through his hair.

It was at that moment that I truly understood what was different about the Mayhew twins. For in that brief moment, I had seen something wild; dangerous. Something ancient that spoke of rolling green hills and sea spray as the ocean crashed against the face of a rocky cliff. How often we looked down upon the Irish for their stereotypical tempers and yet here were two spirits as wild and untamable as the very earth from which their heritage sprang. It was a strange sort of realization; one that emboldened my spirit.

We were closing in. I could make out more of our man now. He was fair-haired, though his skin was tanned brown as a berry. He was taller than Holmes and more muscular to boot; a giant among men. Determined not to let him escape again, I drew my service revolver from my pocket.

"Can you make the shot?" Edward asked, struggling to keep the exhausted steed moving.

"I've no doubt," I answered, taking aim over his shoulder.

I had no intention of killing the man. Now, that would not do anything to help us. He needed to be taken in alive and to do that, I only needed to stop him. Steadying my aim as best I could atop a mobile horse, I fired once. A grin alighted on my face as I saw my aim was true: the bullet had pierced his lower leg, tripping him. Due to his momentum, his trip turned into a series of flips before he finally came to rest at the foot of a young oak tree. Edward pulled the horse to an abrupt stop and we both leaped from its back, the young man taking a length of rope with him.

As the criminal began to stir on the ground, we quickly bound him with the entire length, making sure he was unable to unbind himself or otherwise escape.

"You have a lot to answer for," Edward growled.

"I'm not the only one. But yes... of course, you're right," the man said.

The clouds shifted, throwing just enough moonlight upon our party so that I could see his face. It was then that I understood just what Emily had tried to communicate to me earlier. Grief was etched into every line upon the man's face. We hauled him up and he willingly went along with us back towards the home, though I kept my revolver to him all the same.

"You poisoned Holmes, didn't you?" I asked abruptly.

"Me?" the criminal responded questioningly. "No, that was done by... well... someone I thought was my confederate."

"You've a partner?" I pressed.

"Not so much a partner as a man for hire," he explained, still trying to regain his breath. "I had no desire to harm you or your friend. You'll find the antidote on my person."

"What about my brother, Tobias?" Edward asked urgently.

The man shook his head. "For that, I am afraid you will have to wait until Mr. Holmes has awakened and your Inspector has joined us."

It was on this notion that we made haste to return.

We joined up with Lestrade about half of the way back to the family home. He seemed surprised at how very imposing a figure our captive had turned out to be and all the more surprised that we had managed to bring him in. He should his head, very much out of breath himself.

"I lost you at the crevasse. Where the deuce did you go?" he asked.

"Over it," Edward responded dully.

"What?"

"Over it. We jumped it on the horse," I explained.

Lestrade regarded me dubiously. "That's not possible."

"It is if you've got nowhere else to go," Edward countered, moonlight reflecting off his deep blue eyes.

Lestrade looked to me and I nodded. "Lord Almighty..."

"More like Killarney Almighty," Edward corrected, slapping the chestnut horse's flank affectionately. "And the sooner we return to—Dr. Watson, are you all right?"

I had paused to lean heavily on a nearby tree, falling behind my companions. In the heat of the chase my adrenaline had kept me going, but now that it had begun to wear off I was seeing just how foolish I'd been. I felt Edward catch my arm in a steadying hold and was vaguely aware of our captive offering some sort of apology, only to have Lestrade snap at him irritably. I felt foolish for slowing us down, for in my mind, every moment wasted on my own weakness was a moment taken from Holmes.

"Insector Lestrade, do you suppose you could assist Dr. Watson the rest of the way? I would do it myself, but I suspect that with my rather, ah... short stature I wouldn't be of much help," Edward commented.

"Of course. Let's have your arm there doctor. There we are," Lestrade said, taking my arm 'round his shoulder.

"I'm terribly sorry for this, Lestrade," I informed him.

"It can't be helped," Lestrade responded with a small shrug.

"Right. Now, I have the good doctor's revolver here and I will not feel in the least bit guilty for shooting you should you try to escape. Am I understood?" Edward questioned our prisoner.

The large man nodded his head slowly and we set off once more in a rather queer looking group with the horse pulling up behind us. My perception of time was rather distorted by that point, but it didn't seem very long before we had returned to the old family home. As a sat in a chair in the sitting room and let my head clear, I watched as Lestrade sat our man down and kept guard with Edward.

"What's gotten into Mr. Holmes?" he questioned.

"Why don't you ask our guest?" Emily suggested venomously.

Our captive shifted slightly against his bonds. "To explain the exact nature of the ingredients at this very moment would unnecessarily waste your time. I'll say only that its a complicated mixture of plants found only in the deepest reaches of the South American rainforests. I have the antidote with me here in my satchel."

Emily stooped down and withdrew a small glass phial filled with a thick murky liquid. Quirking an eyebrow as she examined the contents, she uncorked it and wafted some of the scent towards her only to recoil at its pungent odor.

"I this to be ingested or injected?" she asked.

"Ingested," our captive replied.

"How can we be sure this is truly an antidote?" I butted in.

"I've given you no reason to trust me, but at this stage you don't have much choice but to do so," he answered.

She pulled a face. "Very well, though I can't say how he'll take to it."

"If it has not yet been twenty-four hours, it should counteract the poison, but you're correct... it usually does cause some stomach problems for some days afterward," he answered.

"I think he can stand that much for his life," I offered.

"Let's hope. Eddy, would you lift his head?" Emily asked.

The young man quickly crossed the room, kneeling by the sofa to do as she asked. The foul liquid had no sooner passed his lips than he began to cough violently. Edward ran for a glass of water as his sister patted my friend's back gently as he rolled to his side. I started to rise, wishing to do something to help, but the sudden sound of his voice both made my body freeze and my heart jump.

"Watson... sit," he coughed.

"Masterful as ever I see, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade said.

"And alert enough to be so," Holmes responded hoarsely, gratefully downing the glass of water Edward offered him. He cleared his throat, his coughing spell having passed, and sat up gingerly. "I see it's safe to assume that this was different from the toxin found on the poisonous dart frogs of South America."

Our man looked very surprised, the lamplight reflecting off his wide eyes. "Why, yes, you're exactly right. However did you realize what I'd used?"

"By the presence of the small splinters I had found at each crime scene," Holmes explained, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he opened them, I could see that they still held the brightness of fever in them. "I have done some reading on the Noanamá Chocó and Emberá Chocó Indians of western Colombia... though the material was hard to come by. They are the ones who nursed you back to health after your ship wrecked and stranded you on their shores, correct?"

"Mr. Holmes I had heard of your reputation, but I am half prepared to swear you're a witch," our captive remarked, his astnished expression shared by most everyone in the room.

"No, otherwise I should have used divination to find you rather than going through the trouble of being poisoned and having a large lump raised on my poor Boswell's head," Holmes answered dryly. "Now, before we proceed, I believe it is important that first you tell us your name and then the location of young Tobias Mayhew and Dr. Oliver Matthews."

The twins looked eagerly to our captive at this suggestion, no doubt fearful for their younger sibling's well being.

"Yes, I agree. My name is Willoughby Rutherford. I have drawn up a map leading to the location of those I had kidnapped and I can assure you that the boy is quite unharmed. Dr. Matthews should probably be taken to a hospital, for he's lost a bit of blood," Rutherford stated. "The map is in my left trouser pocket."

Lestrade quickly retrieved this, holding it up to the lamp light and nodding in approval. "I'll wire the Yard and set them straight on it. Excuse me a moment."

We watched the Inspector walk briskly from the room to deliver the message. Holmes leaned back as he sat upon the sofa, still looking worse for the ware. I heard a soft sigh escape his lips and saw his brow wrinkle as he draped an arm loosely over his abdomen. I could tell straight away that the antidote was not sitting well with him. This frightened me, for I couldn't be sure how soon the antidote would begin to work and I knew he was still within the poison's hold at the moment. If he were to be ill and lose the antidote there was no telling what could happen to him. I saw him glance once in my direction, though he averted his gaze quickly once he realized I had observed him doing so. After waiting a quarter of an hour, Lestrade returned looking very much relieved.

"They should be looking for them as we speak," he announced.

The twins shared a look of relief.

"Excellent. And now, Mr. Rutherford, perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us your tale," Holmes offered.

"Yes, I believe it is one that must be told," Rutherford said with a somber expression. "It all began when my little sister Lily fell ill..."

Well, let me just say that as far as Rutherford's story, I did quite a bit of reading and researching. Obviously it's fictional, but most of the scientific bits are factual. I'm really looking forward to bringing this all around. It's strange to write a story with the ending lurking about your mind... I hope to see you again. Thank you for reading!