A/N: Just one more chapter, I think!

Holmes

Fire in close-quarters is a dangerous thing. It spreads more quickly and heavily than even Mycroft spreads butter on his toast and causes much more destruction. The building we had been in was now a smoldering mess, the ones adjoining it were being slowly licked away to black char.

I struggled up in a dazed stagger, unaware of much and not sure of the immediate passage of time. Already I could hear the clanging of the fire brigade somewhere in the distance. Lord, this would take some explaining. I hoped the police force would not be so quick in showing up, they tended to be more nosy than the firemen.

A pocket of fire popped loudly behind me and snapped me back into the present. I looked around in a quick spell of awareness and found Watson. By Jove, he was having a rough time of it. I went to him and knelt down, feeling a fool all the way.

He seemed to be awake, but I couldn't get a proper reaction from him. Any movement was delayed and sluggish, a symptom that alarmed me considerably. His eyes dropped and closed, popping open again when I called his name sharply a few times. I wasn't sure if he should be allowed to go to sleep, and for once, I bemoaned my lack of medical knowledge. Always before Watson had been able to advise in such matters.

I sat him up, hoping that this would discourage any sleepy ideas he might have. I changed my mind about the police force's punctuality and hoped that they would be here early, and bring a medic with them. It was difficult to tell the seriousness and extent of his injuries. The hand would need to be treated, his head must be somehow injured, not to mention the various other things- smoke exposure, trauma, the question of what exactly they had done with him before I'd located them. I should not like it if he'd been drugged at all.

I did not wish to remain in the middle of this street any longer. There were two men dead in that burning building, several arsonists running about, and a Scotland Yard Inspector unconscious somewhere. I hooked Watson under his arms and half-dragged, half-carried him to the kerb, where I set him down again, huffing and wheezing, far more tired than I should be. I was not keen to admit that this case had taken a toll on me, but there was no denying that it had.

I'd meant to check on Watson more thoroughly, properly ascertain his medical condition, and treat it if I could., but somewhere along the way I leant back to rest for a moment, just a moment. Soon the cobblestone became my pillow and I noticed amusedly how the fire's reflection danced in a nearby puddle.

Disconcerting as it is when one awakens with another being fluttering about above one, wrapping bandages around one's various appendages and poking and prodding, it is even more unnerving when one awakens with no one in sight in an unfamiliar place with one's entire body exhibiting the qualities of a pile of rags. Especially when one is quite aware and alarmed that one's dear and injured friend is not to be found.

A special amount of effort was required to prop myself up and look around. The scenery was not one of great beauty: two gray, narrow walls and a rotting door formed a small hall. When I looked behind me I saw a set of stairs and concluded I must be in a tenement hallway, so alike it was to the hall of the burning building. How and why I was in a tenement hall would still take some deducing.

I was not left to puzzle for long. A constable entered through the door a few moments later. I daresay he was a bit surprised to see me cognizant, even more so when I battered him with a rapid succession of inquiries.

"How was I transported here, more importantly, why? Are the firemen here yet; do you have a superior officer, and for God's sake what has become of Dr. Watson?"

The constable stood dumbfounded. Honestly, the sort of people they let onto the force!

"Well, out with it, man!"

"I'm not certain you should be exerting yourself, sir, you've had a right knock about."

"Nonsense, I'm completely fine." I stood, using the wall for support.

"Are you sure you're fit to be up?"

"Are you sure you're fit to be a constable?" I mumbled in retort, then, louder, "Have you a superior officer on the scene?"

"Yes, sir, right his way." The constable led me out the door and into the chaotic fray of the fire brigade, police force, and ambling civilians. I spotted Inspector Bradstreet in the middle of it all and at once made straight for him, the constable still trying to lead me and succeeding only in falling further behind.

"Inspector!" I called, and saw Bradstreet's head whip about at the sound of my voice, to my satisfaction.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" He yelped, cantering up to me. "I believe I'd love to hear what in devil has happened."

"All in good time, Inspector. Might you tell me where Dr. Watson is?"

"He's already in the transport to the hospital."

"To the hospital!' I cried. "Was it that bad?"

"The surgeon said his injuries were relatively minor, but it is Force procedure to send any injured person to the nearest hospital."

I turned to leave.

"You can't take off, Mr. Holmes!"

"I most certainly can."

"Mr. Holmes! We need your account of the events. You are a primary witness!"

"I do hope you've found Inspector Lestrade," I threw over my shoulder, flagging down a cab and commanding the driver to the nearest hospital, throwing a regal amount of change in the cabbie's direction as I couldn't be bothered to count in my irritation and distraction. Besides, a little monetary incentive does wonders for speed.

My collapsing onto the cab seat was met with exhaustion and a miserable feeling in my lungs. I felt the worse for my brief leave of the conscious world. I passed a hand over my eyes and rested it on the bridge of my nose. The taste in my throat led me to thinking I'd never smoke again, so full of noxious ash and smoke it was.

The arrival of my vessel at King's College hospital jarred me out of the stupor I'd fallen into. Some painful inquiries and vicious arguments with the receptionist and members of the staff finally led me to Watson. I was led through the halls by a young doctor who looked deservedly scared of me.

The hospital lived up to the reputation given to most medical institutions and I was reminded why Watson regarded hospitals with disdain. I was beginning to be not so fond of them myself as I saw the overcrowding, filthy conditions, and meager supplies. The young medico stopped in a kind of waiting room, where a wretched group of people slumped in various postures and all states of ill-health. Two or three nurses bustled about in attempt to keep the patients relatively all right. I found Watson immediately and deserted the doctor to hasten to my friend. He slouched in a chair, his head continually nodding forward and then snapping back p as he attempted to stay awake. He caught sight of me and brightened incredibly, jumping up in a sudden burst of alertness. This abrupt motion was too much for his already taxed equilibrium, however and I scurried to steady him as his face lost a deal of color and his knees buckled beneath him,

Settled safely into the chair once gain, he looked up at me ad opened his mouth to speak. It opened and close twice before he decided on something to say.

"Dear God, Holmes."

"I am abundantly glad to see you in one piece, old boy." I beamed. "The way the police talked,, your health might have been irretrievable."

"It is in their means to exaggerate."

I could see Watson try to follow my attempt at lightening the mood, but my experienced eyes caught all the implications of his utter exhaustion and bodily distress. I looked around, saw the hustling nurses, the man coughing besides us and the lack of attention from the staff, and made an easy and swift decision.

Taking Watson's elbow, I pulled up . He looked at me confusedly but did not say anything.

"Let us return to that comfort and warmth of Baker street, my dear fellow."

He looked at me, both extremely relieved and disbelieving in the same expression,

"Holmes, we cannot just leave the hospital without telling anyone. The police-"

"The police have waited longer for information that we shall make them. As for medical attention, we are wont to get it here, and I would trust your current inhibited medical skills over these hurried doctors."

I had begun to lead Watson to the door as I talked, and both his strength and his will was flagging enough that he gave in and sank into the cab.

I paid the cabbie, correctly this time, and collapsed onto the seat next to my friend. The gaslights had just been lit and in their unusually warm glow that night we ventured home.

A/N: I don't know much about 19th century hospitals- heck, I don't know much about modern day hospitals, I haven't been in one since I was too young to remember. If there are any glaring mistakes, or not so glaring ones, feel free to tell me.