One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred Tennyson "Ulysses"

Chapter 37: "Not to Yield"

Holmes

It was not until the next morning that Lachlan returned, for he had indeed worked out a schedule change with one of the other officers, giving him an entire day free so that I could find Brown and get the cure from him.

Watson had suffered through yet another fever that night, but unlike the previous two it had had little effect, spiking only mildly, as though his body was far too exhausted to even put up much of a fight. He remained still and quiet most of the time, alternately hot and cold and only conscious enough to concentrate when someone spoke to him.

And even then I was alarmed at the state he had sunken to; the exhaustion and dehydration were taking their toll, leaving him a sorry imitation of the Watson I knew.

I left him reluctantly, though I was eager to go after Brown, not because of Watson's fear but rather because of my own.

"You'd best not waste any time, Holmes," Lachlan had said quietly as I had tried to rouse my friend.

"Watson?"

There had been no response, his eyes remained closed and his chest barely rising and falling with each tiny shallow breath.

"Watson, can you hear me?" I repeated, trying to speak round the lump in my throat as I shook his shoulder gently.

His eyelids shivered and his brow furrowed slightly, but other than that he gave no response. I took his limp hand and tried to make my voice calm.

"Watson, I'm going after Brown," I said slowly and distinctly, leaning close to him and hoping he could hear my words at least. "I shall be back, I promise. Can you do something for me while I'm gone?"

I felt his hand clench slightly – he could hear me then.

"I want you to fight, Watson," I said shakily, "I know it is hard and I know you're tired – but you can't give up now, old fellow. We are too close to the end now. Do you understand?"

He moved slightly and moaned a little, gripping my hand again.

"You have to keep fighting, Watson," I went on intensely, "I – I need you to not give up on me. Can you do that?"

He had made no more movement, and his hand was ice cold and unresponsive; he had slipped back into unconsciousness again. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and placed his hand back under the blankets, pulling them up tightly round him. Then I turned to leave, very reluctantly.

I was terrified that he would slip away while I was gone, that he was giving up the fight and that I could not reach him any longer, that he would stop fighting and I would not be here when he did.

Were it not for Lachlan I would never have left him. The seaman put a strong hand upon my shoulder as I opened the door and nodded back to the motionless form of the dearest person I had in all the world.

"I won't let him give up, Holmes, I promise you that," he said through clenched teeth, "you just concentrate on the work to be done."

I felt my eyes sting but just as quickly gave myself a shake to collect my nerves before heading down to the corridor below to see this John Brown.

Lachlan

For an hour after Holmes left, I paced up and down the small stateroom in a troubled state indeed – the Doctor was sinking faster than even Smith had stated. We were suppose to have about 14 hours left by my reckoning, but the Doctor appeared to be only partly conscious.

That in itself was not good, for he could stop breathing at any time and not being conscious would not be able to tell me. I never took my eyes off him for a second as he struggled gallantly to fight this hellish thing.

I am not an emotionally-driven man, but at that moment in time I believe I could have killed Smith with my bare hands with no more compunction than if he were a rodent I found in my cupboards.

I suddenly sprang for the bunk as I saw the Doctor's chest stop rising for more than a moment, yanking him upright with more force than I had meant to in my panic.

"Don't you dare do this, Doctor! Breathe, NOW! Come on!"

Holmes

Cabin 224 was a small distance from ours, at the other end of the ship, near the crew's quarters. I wasted no time in locating it and rapping sharply on the clean, white wood.

There were slight sounds from inside and I waited a moment before rapping again.

A low voice muttered behind the door and light footsteps approached. Gilchrist was right, the man could not be over thirty, probably nearer to twenty.

"What do you want?" Came a young voice through the door, absolutely saturated with the accents of Oxford. A student then, just fresh out of university and short of money, an ideal man for Smith to hire.

"I have a proposition for you," I called back.

The door opened a crack and the instant it did I surged forward, shoving it open the rest of the way.

Brown, exactly as Gilchrist had described, stumbled backward, still gripping the handle.

He stared at me with a mixture of outrage and horror, for a moment I could not think why, then recalled that I had not slept, shaven, or changed for two nights now and I must look a right terror.

Good.

Lachlan

At the vehemence in my tone, the Doctor gave a small shuddering gasp and then his eyes flew open with an unfocused, frightened gaze. I let out my breath with a hiss and propped him upright – I was taking no chances, he was going to stay elevated.

I saw a faint gleam of recognition come into his face as he saw me, and then his eyes closed again. I wiped my perspiring forehead – blast it all, it was hot in here!

"Doctor, I'm going to give you some water now, all right?" I asked hesitantly.

His eyelids fluttered and he moved his head, which I took for assent. Even if not, he had to drink something or he would never last the day.

But I could not get him to sip anything from the cup – he was too weak by this point. I frowned.

Hang it all, I cared nothing for his pride. He was going to get it down even if I had to feed it to him with a spoon like a small child.

I rang for the steward.

Holmes

The lad straightened, pushing his disheveled brown locks back from his high forehead and straightening his dressing gown.

"Who are you, Sir?!"

Never could I remember feeling so detached and cool as I did at that moment. Watson has written in his memoirs that I can be frightening in such a cool state, and I believed I was for when I turned my cold, hard gaze on him Brown paled slightly and moved as though to step back.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," I said. "And my proposition is this. You help me save the life of John Watson and you will not hang beside Culverton Smith…"

Brown met my gaze and his blue eyes wavered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said in a voice that was meant to be cocky but held a perceptible edge of nervousness.

I stepped closer, and spoke as though I had not been interrupted.

"…And if he dies, then I will spend the remainder of my days and all my energy into proving you the accomplice of one of the greatest murderers in Britain. And you will hang, as the law demands."

Lachlan

It was taking very, very long to even get a bit of water down the sick man's throat, but I refused to give up, closed my ears to his pleading, and almost cruelly kept forcing that spoonful of water into his mouth despite his spluttering protests.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," I said, setting my jaw as he tried to turn away again, too weak now to ask me to stop, "but Holmes'll kill me if you give up the ship while he's gone. You're goin' to drink this, and you're goin' to drink it all, if I have to sit here until ten o'clock this evening and make sure you do!"

It had been an hour, and he had drunk maybe a fourth of a glass. Not good.

Holmes

Brown looked at the notes I had placed in his hands and they quivered. He raised a very white face indeed and I saw that he was taken aback - he had no doubt expected to get off scot-free.

"You can't prove…"

"Oh can't I, sir?" I cut him off. "There is nothing on this earth which I am more equipped to do."

The boy glared at me, his face flushing with a sudden spirit.

"If you are so certain that I am the only one who can help you, then you won't dare touch me."

A brief silence followed this statement and Brown watched me as though uncertain of the effect of his words.

"I have bested many men in my day, Mr. Brown, and I have made it my mission in life to hunt them tenaciously."

I glared at him, and fixed his gaze with my own steely one.

"Those men I hunted because they posed a threat to society. But you and Smith have overstepped those bounds. By harming Watson you have made an enemy of me in the worst possible way. I am not in the mood for bargaining, Brown. I am going against my nature in even allowing you the chance to redeem yourself. I would recommend that you do not try my patience. Because if Watson dies while you argue with me, then there will be nothing to keep me from settling with you tonight."

His gaze wavered but remained locked with my own, as though he were incapable of breaking it.

"Now."

I smiled at him and the lad shivered.

"What are the ingredients to Smith's cure, for the new disease he has been experimenting with that causes death by asphyxiation?"

Lachlan

I dropped the spoon as the Doctor choked, his breath hitching in his throat and not making it to his lungs. His eyes flew open wide in terror as I grabbed hold of him and began to talk to him as I had seen Holmes do countless times already, telling him to breathe, to slow down and concentrate.

My voice did not have the same effect that his friend's had, however, for it took me longer to get him to calm down, long enough that his face had turned dark red from lack of oxygen. When he finally gasped a tiny hiss of air and then another, at last getting his breathing regulated once again, I sighed with immense relief.

I gently settled him back on the pillows as I saw he was not even really conscious – the water would have to wait. At least he had gotten a glassful down before choking that badly. I certainly hoped for no more such spells as that one, for I was beginning to feel that I might not achieve the same results as Holmes in my talking to him.

As I began my pacing vigil again, I sent out a silent prayer for Holmes and that Brown chap to hurry.

Holmes

There was no one to watch us as we slipped into Smith's cabin, which thankfully had not been stripped of his equipment and makeshift laboratory.

"Everything we'll need is in here." Brown said.

"And you remember the remedy?"

He nodded. "Smith had me memorize them all….Sir."

I turned back from the various phials and testing tubes, puzzled by the new tone in his voice.

He was paler then I had seen him before.

"Sir…when he took me on…it was as a genuine assistant. I didn't know what he was up too. Not until this voyage. He…"

I daresay Watson would have felt for Brown, young as he was, but I cared not a whit at that moment.

I took hold of his arm and pulled him to the table.

"We will discuss your fate later, Brown, and the faster we accomplish this the more inclined I will be to listen to you."

He nodded and began to pull forward various marked bottles.

"The first solution is simple. That there is a clean vial, and the burner is just here…"

Lachlan

I poured myself a brandy and downed it absently, my eyes never leaving the motionless form of the sick man on the bunk. It had been three hours now since Holmes had left – I took that to mean he had found Brown in his cabin and had convinced him to give him the help he needed.

I thought back to the first time I had met the two of them, that night in their house in Baker Street just under a month ago. I could still see them both, laughing and bright-eyed on their return from what I assumed to be the theatre, since they had both been in formal dress. And very quickly I had found myself drawn to the kind of life they stood for in the path they had chosen against the evils of men such as Smith.

The Doctor had to live to fight again beside his friend, he just simply had to. I doubted that the world could stand a loss like that, and I could tell for a fact that Holmes never would be able to bear it. He must pull through, I mused as I looked down at the man in the bunk.

I laid a hand on the Doctor's forehead and cursed a blue streak – his fever was up again. Not dangerously up, but enough for him to be deucedly uncomfortable. I wet a cold cloth and placed it on the sufferer's forehead, and he stirred slightly with a small whimper that made me feel sick myself.

I fervently hoped that Brown was not being stubborn – we might be running out of time faster than Smith had told us.

Holmes

I shook my head, trying to flick the drops of sweat off of my brow. Both of my hands and all of my concentration was required in this next part, for if I made a mistake then the entire process would have to be started over, and we could not afford that after near on two hours of work.

I lifted the smaller phial and held it above the larger that held the growing solution. My hands trembled and I stopped, taking a moment to steady them. Behind me I could hear Brown breathing nervously, for his fate was as dependent upon this chemical mixture as Watson's was.

I proceeded, and heard a light clink as the lips of the phials touched. With agonizing slowness I tipped several drops in, hearing Brown draw in his breath behind me.

I breathed out in relief when the solution fizzled slightly and settled again. I handed the solution to Brown who replaced it on the burner and turned up the flame.

I leaned back against the table and wiped the back of my hand against my brow.

It was both a comfort and a curse to have to concentrate on such work, comforting because it was a familiar area, one in which I excelled. But it was taking too long and meant I had to be slow and meticulous, paying attention to every detail.

Brown grunted in satisfaction, his eyes fixed on the solution which was bubbling dully.

"Not long now, Mr. Holmes - just a few more steps."

"How long?" I asked nervously, glancing at my watch.

"An hour or so."

I breathed out shakily, wishing that I could trust Brown enough to finish so that I could check on my friend.

A while longer, Watson…hold on, old fellow.

Lachlan

I stepped away from the bell, having rung for a bit of nourishment and some broth that I would try to feed to the sick man.

The doctor was listless, but at least he was breathing. I perched on the edge of his bunk and looked down at him, and his brow furrowed as he saw me, glancing past me round the room.

"Holmes? Where…" his rasping whisper was so weak I could barely hear it.

"He's gone for the cure, Doctor," I hastened to assure him, patting his shoulder firmly, "he's been gone near four hours, so I assume he's well on his way to having it with that Brown chap."

The Doctor frowned tiredly, almost as if he had not heard me, still glancing restlessly round the room.

"Did you hear me, Doctor?"

His clouded eyes turned slowly, wearily, back to me, and I could see the brightness of fever in them as he nodded slowly.

"You are losing water too quickly, Doctor, and Holmes will draw and quarter me if you don't drink some more," I said briskly, retrieving the water and preparing to give the sick man some.

"No…" he feebly tried to push my hand away, but I refused to be deterred.

"Doctor, look at me," I said firmly, getting close to his emaciated face.

His eyes fastened upon me once again, and a flicker of recognition once more shot through them and I believe he only then realized who I was.

"Lachlan…what…"

"Don't talk, Doctor," I admonished him, pushing him back to his half-sitting position with a small sense of relief. "Save yer strength – heaven knows you're goin' to need it before the day is through."

There was a rapping at the door and I called for the steward to enter – the young fellow was a personal friend and I knew he would not turn me in at this point for being in a passenger's stateroom. The lad came in bearing a tray and began to lay the things out upon the table.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm, clenching convulsively, and I snapped my head round to see the Doctor, grasping frantically for me – he had stopped breathing again and was trying desperately to cough and not getting any oxygen.

"Easy, Doctor! Slowly now – slowly man! Take it easy," I said in immediate concern, grasping his shoulders as he shook violently, trying to draw in a breath.

His eyes were wide with fright and he did not appear to be responding to me, convulsing desperately as his throat tried to open and no recognition in his face as he stared wide-eyed at me. I made a split-second decision.

"Jack – quick, lad, Cabin 74, on the next floor up – get Sherlock Holmes down here! And hurry!"

My young friend dropped the tray of dishes and dashed out of the stateroom as I turned my attention back to the Doctor, who was now grasping weakly at his throat as if trying to physically pry it open.

Mid-experiment or no, Holmes had to get down here, now.

Holmes

Brown and I leapt in startlement as the door to Smith's room burst open. Brown hastened to steady the beaker of liquid and I turned, expecting to see an outraged Lieutenant or Captain…but what I saw was much worse.

A dark-haired lad in a steward's uniform, panting for breath, his face white.

"Mr. Holmes! The Midshipman, he needs…"

I did not wait to hear the rest but put a hard hand on Brown's shoulder.

"Keep going – and for the love of heaven do not stop or your own life won't be worth a farthing – I shall see to it personally!"

Brown nodded vigorously, meeting my intense glare with a shaky look.

I turned and pelted from the room, the lad at my heels. It was not too far to the cabin but far enough, and I felt every inch of it, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest.

What was it? What was so bad that Lachlan could have…

I dashed through the open door and paused as I took in the scene before me.

Lachlan was bent over the convulsing form of my friend, gripping him with white-knuckled hands, pleading with him to breathe.

But Watson was not listening; his eyes were as glazed and uncomprehending as a wounded animal, his face was growing darker by the moment, and he struggled weakly in the seaman's grasp, no sound came from him

I moved without thinking, crossing the room in one bound, shoving Lachlan aside and taking my friend by the shoulders.

"WATSON! WATSON!"

I shook him slightly, but it had no effect, it was as though he could not, or would not, hear me. He was gripping his throat.

"Watson…look at me! It's Holmes!"

I shot a fearful look to Lachlan who stood beside me, his hands clenched and his face white, staring at Watson and me, looking lost for the first time since I had met him.

I let go my hold and took one of Watson's hands instead, prying it away from his throat. With an effort I quelled my own panic and forced myself to speak in a calm, steady voice.

"Watson."

I put my other hand on his forehead and pressed him back against the pillows in an effort to keep him still.

"Watson, please look at me. I need you, old chap."

His struggles were growing weaker, he was running out of air. I turned his head to face me, tried to meet his eyes with mine.

"Watson. It's Holmes."

With a shock his eyes locked with mine and froze.

"Holmes," I said again.

A spark of recognition lit in the hazel depths and fear followed quickly after, pleading for help without words.

"Breathe in, Watson."

His head moved, not quite a shake.

"Breathe in!"

His chest expanded with nothing, his eyes closed and his hand clenched in a painful grip on mine.

"Good, Watson, good!"

A harsh sound filled the cabin as air was dragged into his windpipe, Watson screwed up his face with the effort.

"That's it!"

He gasped and choked, the terrible color fled from his face, he began to shake again from his efforts, he took another breath.

I let my head droop and clutched his hand in both of mine, my head bowed over them in relief and fright.

"Holmes?"

His voice was hoarse and thin and fearful, utterly unrecognizable.

"Yes, Watson, I'm here."

He looked at me with a painfully weary gaze.

"Can't…"

"Yes, you can, Watson. We're almost done – it will not even be an hour. Do you hear me? Just a while longer…do you hear?!"

He whimpered and turned his head away, still clinging to my hand.

I detached it – and he did not object, which indicated his condition clearer than the fact that I had been about three seconds from losing him completely. I rose to my feet and met Lachlan's gaze, both relieved and fearful.

"Keep him alive, for an hour more."

The seaman nodded and I hurried from the room, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth hurt.