Ten miles from London still, and I didn't need a thermometer to tell me that my fever was rising. The familiar sense of drifting from my body was proof enough that I would soon be entertaining the peculiar delusions and misapprehensions of delirium. "Just get home to Baker Street," I told myself, again and again, to the clack of the train's wheels against the rails.
It wasn't until three days later that Holmes thought I was well enough to consult a map and discover all of the hospitals and doctor's surgeries I had bypassed whilst walking home from the station.
