Chapter 25: Malaria

"Well, what's the matter with him?" Lestrade asked the doctor that Mycroft had hired. He knew as soon as the man came out of the room with a face as long as that, that the news was not good indeed.

"It's a case of malaria, followed by his hallucinations. It might have just started out as just a cold, which is why you probably never noticed the symptoms but its gone and spread, becoming a full blown attack on his body now," the doctor advised as they stood in the door way.

"What can you do to cure him?" Lestrade asked looking to where Mycroft sat on the bed, bent over Sherlock, changing the cloth again.

"We could have him bled to clear the diseased blood. But according to his brother, he hasn't been eating properly so the process might prove fatal. You should continue giving him laudanum. It should reduce the pain in his head and if the fever should get worse, you can have him take a cold bath. You have to keep him in a clean environment if he is to pull through malaria without attaining any extra respiratory problems."

Lestrade shook his head. Did the doctor even know what the hell he was talking about? He began to question if he had even gone to medical school like John had. Oh if only John were here…he would know how to cure Sherlock.

"I'm sorry I cannot do more for him," the doctor said as Lestrade led him out and shut the door behind him. He took the stairs back up to the room in the tower. They were keeping the captain in the most secure jail, the Tower, where security was tight and barely anyone that got in ever managed to get out again. It was a place where criminals were kept and if Lestrade had anything to say in this, it would be Anderson that would have to be locked up in here and not Sherlock.

"You heard what the doctor had to say didn't you? It's all my fault…" Mycroft whispered as he hung his head.

Lestrade almost by instinct went to sit by Mycroft's side. He didn't have anything to say, no taunt or witty comeback. They both suffered here, they were about to lose someone precious to them.

"It isn't your fault. You can change it. You can be the one to look after Sherlock. After all you're the only one with access to this tower and Anderson trusts you enough…" Lestrade muttered as he stood now, ready to go, "You should take me back to my cell before Anderson notices…"

Truth be told Mycroft didn't want Lestrade to leave. He wanted to spend just a little bit more time with the other, it seemed that Greg Lestrade was his moral compass and it was only with him that he could do the right thing. "Lestrade…I want you to know that I'm sorry," he said as he took the other man back to his prison.

"Mycroft, you shouldn't be apologizing to me. It's Sherlock you wronged the most if anyone," he muttered.

Mycroft reached to grab Lestrade by the arm, stopping the other man in his tracks now, "If anything, I betrayed your trust and I'm sorry for that."

Lestrade turned to face the other now, his eyes staring hard at the older man, "Don't keep apologizing Mycroft," he muttered as he found himself leaning in, his head resting on the man's shoulder. "It's Anderson's fault. Anderson and the Company. You merely got caught up in it all."

"I don't see how that's going to work," John said as he looked over the map that served as the layout for the prison grounds. They had so many guards and walls to get through and it was only about a handful, forty-five of them at least not counting those that might not have made it through the journey on the Terminus.

Jim rolled his eyes, clearly John was still very naïve, either that or he doubted his prowess, "Alright," he said as he cleared his throat ready to begin again, "look here, the Company prison has two walls. Only the first one, that is the outer wall is guarded. They have no more than twenty guards patrolling the walls at all times and that small number is enough for us to take out, saying we combine our crew of fifty strong with Sherlock's forty-five strong we'd have more than ninety strong. Enough to raid the premises and get out of there alive. But why waste human resources when I can always make them turn a blind eye."

"How are you planning on achieving that? Those soldiers are part of the company aren't they?" John asked.

Jim shook his head once more, "Pirate?" Jim reminded him, "Those soldiers all have a family to go back to don't they? Threaten their family, or say we give them even more than what the Company gives them and see whose side they'll turn to. It's simple."

"Do you always do this? Buy your way around and stuff?" John asked as he studied the map closely. Each cross marked the station of a guard and as he measured the distance from the cell blocks to the walls, he began to think that buying their way out of this was the best solution that there was.

"As I say, in the world of locked rooms the man with the key is king. If you've got the money and power who will not bow down to you?" Jim questioned now as Moran came into the cabin with their latest update on the course of their sailing.

"If all goes well we should be able to reach England in four days time," Moran said as he took his place standing beside Jim. "I have news as well. For you, John Watson," the ex militant man said as he turned to him.

"What is it about?" John asked, he wasn't as fearful of the man as he had used to be back when they had first met on the docks in Brazil.

"Sherlock has contracted Malaria," Moran said.

John didn't know how long he sat there in silence, taking in the information, Malaria…had he been cured? Could he be cured? Would he die? How was he now? So many questions raged through his head and John wished so hard that he had never been separated from Sherlock in the first place.

"Hey. Sherlock will be fine," Jim said reaching across the table to place his hand on John's, "He's stronger than anyone that I've known and so far I've never ever seen him get sick this badly. He'll be fine I assure you. You can't let that get in the way alright? You have to believe that he will be fine and you can save him," Jim said. The words he uttered he knew would have no effect on John, after all a lover could only not worry when he was right there, physically beside the person he loved, yet it was better than not trying at all.

That night before going to bed, John knelt down beside his bed, and clasping his hands together he prayed to whatever god that might be merciful and hear him. "Please, please let Sherlock be alright. Let him live…please," he whispered repeating those lines over and over as tears fell from his eyes, the pain in his heart unbearable, it was like nothing he had ever felt. This overwhelming sense of loss engulfed him and fear tightened his throat as strangled sobs echoed in the emptiness of his room. It was in this way, that John Watson was claimed by sleep, tired, exhausted and worrying for the one he loved the most.

AN: Hey guys, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, i know i haven't kept to my uploading schedule at all, but i do hope that you guys will understand i'm having alot of projects now and i actually have two weeks off but it's almost as though i don't have a break at all. *sigh* well, thanks for reading and i do hope you can leave me a comment. See you in the next chapter! :)