Father Brown was sitting at the table with Sid when Mrs McCarthy returned, walking sideways like a crab with the still very full breakfast tray.
"Did he manage anything?" Father Brown asked, eying the heaving plates. While the tray was still impossibly full, there could have been a few morsels that couldn't have been missed given how much food was on the tray. But Mrs McCarthy set her lips and shook her head.
"Yes and no." She said, setting down the tray and heading to the kettle.
Father Brown and Sid looked at each other in confusion.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Oh he tried, but he couldn't manage much. He took a few spoonfuls of porridge, a bite of toast, a corner of something else, you know the way." She said, spying a single dish in the sink and attacking it.
"Food not to his fancy?" Sid asked, starting to snaffle treats from the tray. There was a full English, toast, porridge and scones all still sitting there. Terrible waste if it all went to loss.
"No. It all came back up again."
Sid gagged and choked. Father Brown quickly bypassed Mrs McCarthy at the sink to get Sid a glass of water, while she absentmindedly continued.
"Terrible state he's in, couldn't keep a thing down. Shaking all over too, and I reckon he's still cold only he wouldn't say. I'd better go check on him, he had a bit more porridge and I'd say its making a reappearance now." She turned and headed back into the hall. Sid, finally recovered from his coughing fit with his eyes streaming, shook his head in despair.
" I'd better go up and help her with him."
"No," said Father Brown, "You ought to stay and have something to eat. You've been very good, working so hard with him, you deserve a break."
"It shouldn't be able to do anything like this." Sid moaned with his face in his hands, "It shouldn't be like this."
"Like what?"
Sid gestured vaguely and made a noise of exasperation.
"Lifting him, propping him up, carrying him." He exclaimed in desperation. "He can't sit up, he weighs nothing! I swear on my life, Lady F weighs more! I can carry him about and there's nothing he can do about it because he's not strong enough to fight me off, and he should be fighting me. He hates being stuck here dependant on us, but he can't manage on his own, and even he's accepted that - or given up, yeah, that's more like it! I'm glad we're helping but - oh god - how did it get this bad?"
Father Brown stayed silent.
"Why's he so sick, Father?" Sid pleaded childishly, "Its not just the drugs now. He's really sick."
Father Brown stared at the ceiling. The light glinted on the lens of his glasses and the light made him squint. ''I have a feeling,'' He said softly, ''That the Inspector had not been looking after himself for a long time before deciding he didn't want to live anymore.''
The doctor was summoned again after Sullivan finally confessed that the persistent vomiting was actually very painful on his chest. To Sid's surprise, he opened the door to Chandraty.
''Oh. Didn't expect you.'' Sid awkwardly remarked.
Chandraty wasn't at all his usual self. ''Crawford's off.'' He informed, lips set in a very tight line.
Sid showed him up the stairs and followed him into the room. Sullivan, hunched up with his knees tucked into his chest, blinked in shock.
''Raj. I - ''
''Don't try to get up,'' Chandraty deadpanned, avoiding Sullivan's gaze and rummaging about in his bag, ''I'm here with a solution to thicken your stomach lining. Hopefully you'll be able to keep something down now.''
Sullivan nodded. The atmosphere in the room was awkward to say the least. Sid decided to alleviate this, and instead increased it.
''Did you hear the cricket game on Wednesday night?'' Sid asked.
''No.'' Chandraty replied.
''Me neither.'' Sullivan said quietly.
''I - oh Jesus - ''
Chandraty had resurfaced from his bag with a very large needle and Sid shuddered violently. The doctor looked at him with some disdain, whereas Sullivan remained impassive. Sid eyes fixed on the needle, shuddered again, and Chandraty smirked.
''Calm down,'' He said drily, ''I don't think it'll go through to the other side.''
''It's bloody huge.'' Sid argued, ''I wouldn't be surprised if it did.''
''Guess it depend's where I stick it.'' The doctor reasoned, sitting on the bed beside Sullivan, ''Thigh, side or backside - any preference?''
Sullivan looked at Sid, who didn't appear to plan on leaving. ''Side.'' He announced firmly, shuffling over and pulling up his pyjama top, baring as little skin as possible. Chandraty snorted and rubbed at the skin with an antiseptic wipe. He held the syringe aloft in the air, the needle glinting. Sid looked beyond horrified.
''Alright, relax...'' He trailed off. The needle pierced the skin and Sid, who had went very white, bolted from the room. The two men laughed wekaly, before Sullivan let out a contorted grunt of pain.
''Sorry,'' Chandraty said quietly, ''Pain will stop in a minute.''
''It's not that bad.'' He mumbled back.
The needle withdrew and Chandraty dabbed at the injection site with some medicated cotton wool. ''You're in bad shape.'' He said gravely, still avoiding Sullivan's eyes, ''Really bad. How much do you weigh at the moment?''
''Don't know.''
''When was your last proper meal?''
Sullivan shrugged. ''Lunchtime, the day Albert died.''
Chandraty's mouth fell open in shock. He grabbed hold of Sullivan's arm and started tugging.
''Wha-''
''That's over two weeks barely eating. You're going to hospital.'' Chandraty declared.
Sullivan wrenched his arm free. ''I am not, and you can't force me.''
''No,'' Chandraty agreed, letting go off his arm and sitting back slowly against the headboard. ''I can't. But if that injection doesn't work I might try harder.''
''Fuck off.''
''I will not. We're mates - you helped me out of a tight spot with the police, kept me going, boosted my upstanding in the community, you were there for me. And even after all that, we went to that cricket match together. We went to the pub together. We sat and chatted and I felt so happy to have you as my friend.''
He looked back at the shrunken man, his arms folded tightly across his chest.
''You're dying, Ed. I can't watch this. I can't just let you kill yourself. You - ''
He paused, and rubbed at his eyes,
''I know I can't understand. I can't. But please, please let me help you. Medically. Promise me - if this doesn't work, let me take you to hospital. Please Ed.''
''Fine.'' Sullivan whispered. ''If it really means that much to you.''
They sat in silence for another few seconds, before lapsing into half-hearted conversations about shared interests. When the doctor eventually left, Sullivan was asleep again, still almost upright on the pillow's stacked around him.