A/N:

1) I'm back finally - and sorry for dissapearing for so long. I returned from taking care of my father to find all my pet canaries dead or dying(in my hands), and myself fired, though despite practicality it is the former which has taken the most out of me, and for a long time, I haven't been able to even think about writing (though that's probably a good thing since as you may know when I'm depressed I write tragedies WITH tragic endings, not just liberal angst along the way).

Anyway, I hope that these first efforts do not dissapoint (I cannot tell if I'm entirely happy with how they turned out but I can't say I'm happy with much lately so I suppose I may be a biased jury).

In any case, I hope to be updating more regularly.

2) Sincere thanks for reviews and encouragement goes to: mg333, hamsterpickle1313, and What 1987. As usual, I'll respond via PM to anyone I can.

Also, thanks for all the faves, alerts, etc, it is most encouraging.

3) On a lighter note, I have made and posted fanfic covers for all my fics, and since the resolution here is terrible and they look awful (not complaining... images take up so much cyberspace), I also posted full-res versions on my tumblr, which is: astragalactic dot tubmlr dot com (spaces removed of course)... so if any of you are digital-art afficionados like myself, enjoy!

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Holmes writhes in agony, too far ensnared in the throes of fever and delirium to care about hiding the torment wracking his ever weakening body, or to even realize that his desperate futile clawing at his wounded shoulder will only hurt him more. As a result, the doctors are forced to entirely immobilize his right arm, swathing his shoulder in enough bandages that his desperate fingers cannot reach though them to tear the wound open anew, but it is their only small …. meaningless…. victory, because nothing they try can bring down the fever that ravages his ever weakening body, and no amount of morphine can seem to deaden the pain.

Seeing the detective like this… aches deep within her, and Alexandra doesn't know why. Perhaps it is because it's disconcerting to see perhaps the world's most brilliant mind so far gone that he cannot figure out where or when he is….. Perhaps it is because only she knows why he's suffering so – physically and mentally - and that knowledge has started to feel strangely like a burden.

Perhaps it's because the doctors assume his actions are fueled by agony alone - and only Alexandra knows the terrible truth that Holmes, lingering somewhere between reality and unconsciousness is probably reliving the horror he'd experienced at her hands…. and lost in memories made worse by the never ending agony…. trying to remove the hook from his shoulder, because he cannot any longer separate his memories from reality.

That night, she sits by his side, replacing the nurse who has left, pressing cool cloths to his brow in an effort to stave off the possibility of brain damage, because he bloody well had better not die, not after all this…. and she suspects he'll want his mind intact.

The next night, she does the exact same thing, and tries not to notice the shadows betray how his cheeks have sunken in.

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