STRIVING TO SILENCING DEMONS

Disclaimer: Chances are anything you recognise doesn't belong to me and likely is the legacy of ACD.

Summary: While striving unsuccessfully to silence demons in one fashion it is often that the true solution becomes apparent.

-I returned to find Holmes almost exactly where I had left him and pulling closed the door I set about removing what was left of his clothing. Undoing the buttons of his shirt, I opened it to reveal the pale expanse of skin that I had been expecting, but I was still caught off guard by the prominence of his collarbone and ribs, echoing the jutting cheekbones that I had noted earlier. My growing resolve that this time I could simply not sit back and hope that a new case would come to Holmes' attention to drive him off this self destructive course was turned to concrete as I couldn't help but pause to take account of what I was seeing. I carefully peeled the shirt, damp with cold sweat, from off his shoulders before easing him back down onto the sheets. I had expected that my manoeuvring of him would have been enough to draw him back to consciousness but there was still nothing to suggest that that was the case. On a slightly paranoid whim, I paused again and reached for his wrist. His pulse was steady now, and having reassured myself of that much I set about removing my patient's trousers. As a medical man, I have removed more garments of clothing from more people, from more walks of life than I care to think about and it has never bothered me greatly, yet I paused before doing this for the man I care for above all else. I shook myself out of my uncharacteristic hesitation though, and undid the buttons in a flash. I noted as I pulled them off that the fabric of bottom half of his legs were significantly damp, not as I first thought because they had been drenched by the chemical spillage, but the grit and dirt embedded in the fabric suggested that this was because he had been walking about through puddles and gutters presumably, the previous night. This served to back up my suspicions about where it was he had ventured last night and why it was that he had gone out at all.

-As I was pulling the sheets up over his prostrate form, I could hear the sound of movements outside, and when I opened the door I found a basin of steaming water, a jug of cold water and a stack of flannels and towels. I moved them inside and mixing the water so that it was tepid, carefully bathed him and dried his skin before searching out a nightshirt and dressing him once more. It was only when I wiped his brow with a fresh cloth that I noticed the first signs of him waking. His forehead creased as he groaned slightly before his eyes fluttered open. While an unexpected feeling of relief swept through my more sentimental side, the medical man in me quickly noted that his pupils were still unnaturally dilated and he was obviously still disorientated. I watched as he licked his lips and turned his gaze naturally, upon myself.

"Watson?" His voice quiet and faltering and in that instant I was reminded of a scared child.

"Yes. It's me." I answered softly, once more brushing the hair out of his face. After a valiant struggle he succeeded in pushing himself up on his elbows and looked towards the partially open door. "What in the good Lord's name were you thinking man?" It came out, and in a tone far harsher than I had initially intended it to. He looked at me as though I had asked him the meaning of life and it was a minute before I got an answer.

"It… It wasn't working..." In that moment, when he looked back towards me, his expression was so open and vulnerable, so unlike the man that I had come to know that the anger that had welled up in me so quickly was gone in a flash, ebbing once more into genuine concern. He glanced from the open door back towards me, his agitation obviously growing.

"It's alright, calm down old fellow." I urged, using a hand upon his shoulder to push him back against the pillows. His eyes were already drooping once more and though he seemed to want to fight it, his body's demand for sleep was too strong for him to win the battle. As I had learned was typical of Holmes after having taken the solution he slept, though fitfully for the next several hours, stilling however, at the touch of my hand or at a quiet word in his ear.

-It wasn't until Mrs Hudson knocked on the bedroom door several hours later with a tray in her hands, from which the smell of freshly baked bread wafted temptingly towards me, that I realised quite how hungry I was.

"I thought perhaps you might like some lunch doctor." She said as she entered but hung back towards the door. She could obviously read my hesitation as I looked at once from the bed to the tray. "Now Doctor, it looks as though Mr Holmes is sleeping well enough for the time being and you'll be little good to him later if you're hungry and exhausted. I'll quite happily sit with him till you've eaten and caught up on some sleep." Her matter of fact way of talking was persuasive in the least and I let her usher me into the living room. It was obvious that she had been at work within this room, as though, by no-means back to its usual state of cleanliness it was now possible to see the floor. There was a distinct chill in the air, which I hadn't taken the time to notice on my initial entry to the room, but there was now a blazing fire in the grate and I settled next to that to tuck into a healthy stew. I ate heartily and once I was done, settled down on the sofa where I had spent many a night previously. I lay there for some time but the thoughts that were chasing themselves through my mind made it impossible for me to rest. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my friends terrified face pleading to me from that shadowy corner as he fought off his demons. I could not tell whether the se phantoms he faced came from his past, his work or his tortured imagination, but wherever their origin I wanted nothing more than to banish them. Giving up on sleep I sat up went to help myself to a cigarette from the box on the mantel. As I lit it and took my first draw I spotted once more the contents of that accursed case spread out on the shelf. Working on what I knew, that Mrs Hudson had found an empty vial the previous evening, and my assumption for the time being that Holmes' excursion the previous night had been to acquire more of the drug, the fact that the glass was perhaps half empty was yet another piece of evidence as to actually how much of the solution that he had injected within a relatively short period of time. I could hear that almost desperate statement he had made to me earlier, "It… It wasn't working…". The question was whether Holmes had been referring to the fact that the euphoria he had usually attained had not come with the first dose, or even the second, or whether it had been reference to what it was he was attempting to escape with the help of the drug. Whether it had failed to drown out the voices and thoughts I knew haunted him during periods of inactivity. It was a question to which I did not know that answer.

-I must have been well and truly caught up with these thoughts for it took several moments before I was roused from my contemplation by the sounds of muffled voices. Through the haze of sleep I managed to fathom that Holmes had awoken and seemed to be causing Mrs Hudson some difficulty. As soon as this thought was processed I made no hesitation in going the bedroom door and on entering was immediately reassured and relieved to see that my friend was not only awake but sitting upright and looking far more coherent than he had done the last time we had spoken. It was however quite an unusual scene that met my eyes, with our landlady obviously imploring her tenant to remain in bed, while he was obviously not so set on the matter. Holmes did however have the blankets pulled up to his chin and seemed more than a fraction uncomfortable at the obvious scrutiny he was being placed under. He had just begun to counter whatever it was that Mrs Hudson had been saying as I opened the door when suddenly he began to cough. Within moments he was in the grip of a fierce coughing fit and my automatic reaction was to go to him.

"My bag if you'd be so kind." I asked the alarmed housekeeper as I dropped to my knees next to the bed and tried to urge my companion to sit upright and try to calm himself.

-It was several minutes before the hacking eased enough that Holmes was able to lean back against the bank of pillows behind him, and it was quite plain that the episode had worn him out entirely as he lay there, panting almost. Mrs Hudson had arrived with my bag in the mean time, before removing herself once more and allowing us a little privacy. Pulling my stethoscope out I proceeded to unfasten the top of my patients nightshirt and place the diaphragm on his chest. Holmes however did not seem convinced that this was a good idea and tried to bat me away. I however was persistent; I had spent long enough in the medical profession to know that there had to be something underlying that kind of cough.

"Breath in." I told more than asked him and tried to ignore the murmur of his complaints to concentrate on the sound of his lungs. Having satisfied myself that I'd heard all there was to hear I proceeded to place a hand against his forehead and another on his wrist to catch his pulse. It was plain to see that he didn't approve of my 'fussing' but I blocked out the fact of who it was I was treating from my mind and simply sought to diagnose any problem. Considering that by the time I had left to eat lunch his heart rate and temperature were both back within normal limits, the increases that I found now, along with the wheeze and rattle coming from his chest were enough to convince me that Holmes's condition was not down to his recent binge.

"How long have you been coughing for?"

"I have no idea what you mean." I bit down on my own tongue reminding myself that to raise his ire would do nothing to help my patient's condition.

"Well you have a slight temperature and that's a nasty cough. Not that I should be surprised, considering you've obviously spent some extensive time sitting in damp clothes in the freezing cold and quite plainly haven't been looking after yourself." Though he seemed to do his best to avoid my eyes he didn't say anything. Sighing, I shook my head a little and wandered towards the fire. Having poked at the coals to rekindle the flames, I turned back to face the bed. "Fine then. At least let me have Mrs Hudson bring up some broth…"

"Watson really…!" He began exasperatedly but soon was caught up in another bought of coughing.

"Holmes old chap," I tried again once he had calmed somewhat. "Try, just for me please, to be at least a little civil. You know that what I'm doing is for the good of your own health." He 'hmph'-ed slightly at this but made no further vocal objects. When the broth and tea arrived he balked at being fed but took the spoon up and at least made a gallant attempt to eat what was put before him. Perhaps it was the sixth sense like those that mothers claim to have about their children, but it didn't take the slight green colour that tinged his face or even the fashion in which he pushed away the bowl to know that his body was not going to accept this nourishment. I watched as he obviously struggled to prevent the revolt but reached for the basin none-the-less suspecting, correctly ultimately, that not even Holmes' resolve was going to be enough this time.

A/N: Once again, thanks for all of your reviews. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did….

Let me know either way,

Linds

xxx