Mrs. Hudson opened the door as soon as we appeared, pleased surprise on her face.
"I thought I heard bells." A small package landed on a side table as she hurried across the room, her attention on where Nicolas and Holmes blocked me from view. "You have no idea how glad I was to see your note," she told Nicolas, "but where is—"
She broke off, apparently looking for me, and I moved around the immortal.
"Mrs. Hudson."
For an instant, pleased surprise became strangely more fearful, but the emotion disappeared a moment later, hidden behind another wide smile.
"Doctor! Oh, thank Heaven. I was so worried when Inspector Lestrade said you had vanished. Thank you for coming back, and thank you for bringing them," she added to Nicolas before I needed to hunt for a reply. "Do you need anything for the return trip?"
Mary flit across the landing as he shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but no. I am just the ferry service today."
Her playful scowl matched his insincere words. "Never, but if you won't take anything—" She retrieved the covered package, "maybe you will give these to the reindeer? There's one for each of them and two for you."
His hearty laugh warmed the room, and he took the package with a half-bow.
"Thank you, Martha. I will pass them around." The biscuits disappeared into his travel coat as he turned to look at me. "You know how to message me at need." Do not make me come after you again.
A faint smirk tried to escape as I agreed, but I knew I never would. Should I need to leave, simply boarding the Polar Line would alert him, and he would meet me at the Motel in a day or two. Just because I could only enter the Pole on the solstice did not mean he could not meet me somewhere, especially in the town that saw him regularly.
I am serious, John, he continued, staring at me to tell the others we spoke silently. Message me. Please. That addendum still applies and will for a while. I would rather make an emergency trip to London than find you like that again.
I nodded as a tickle in my chest became a hacking cough. Maybe I would message him, but I could not promise. Not when I knew what another rejection would do to me. Too many pieces had fallen away in the last months to survive that a second time.
Creases appeared around his eyes once more, but he made no answer, looking at Holmes as Mary darted across the doorway in the other direction.
"Remember what I told you?"
"Everything," Holmes replied. He held one hand out to shake. "Thank you."
"I would say 'anytime,'" Nicolas returned, "but under the circumstances…"
"We are agreed on that." The words carried a double meaning, but I did not try to guess their silent conversation, too busy watching Mary. She halted on the third pass and looked directly at me. I received one bright smile and a wave, then she faded from view. That was strange.
I had no time to think on it. A few more pleasantries saw Nicolas out the door, and footsteps sounded on the roof a moment later, followed by the happy grunts of reindeer eating biscuits. The creatures had a sweet tooth nearly as bad as Holmes'.
Not possible.
A laugh turned into yet another cough, interrupting Holmes' and Mrs. Hudson's conversation as I turned toward my chair.
Very possible, I responded. How many biscuits do you eat in the space of a night?
Not enough. Crunching interspersed Prancer's words. Oh, these are good. Can we get these imported?
A smaller laugh made Holmes and Mrs. Hudson stare at me. I ignored the silent questions. Mrs. Hudson would figure it out eventually.
I have no idea how. Your trade lines don't come through London.
Humph. We need to work on that. He swallowed the last piece. Takin' off now. Take care of yourself, John.
Safe travels.
"Watson?" Holmes stepped into my line of sight, forcing eye contact in a way that said he thought me lost in a memory. I moved around him.
"Prancer says 'farewell,'" I said with a half-shrug. He did not need to know our conversation.
He relaxed slightly, but a yawn became a spasm before he could reply. Only his quick reaction kept me upright when I missed a grab for the nearest table.
"'M fine," I said when I could breathe again, trying to brush him away. I had simply been on my feet for too long, and I tightened my grip on my cane to hide my trembling. "Let go."
He noticed it anyway. "You are not fine," he said firmly. Gentle nudging redirected me from my chair to the settee. "Sit."
Mrs. Hudson quickly rearranged the pillows to let me lean back, and Holmes pulled a chair closer as I tugged on a thin blanket. I would fall asleep soon enough, but the first bout of pneumonia in January had left me unable to stay warm. The extra layer drove away some of the chill that still pervaded London.
"Let me."
No. I avoided his hand, stubbornly ignoring my shoulder's complaints to fight with the blanket. One corner insisted on tangling with the pillow near my feet, but a couple of minutes solved the problem. I wheezed through another coughing fit before beginning a different battle with the small, hard pillow painfully stuck under my shoulder.
"We should probably go to the coast for a few days."
I froze, one hand still gripping the corner of the pillow. Had he truly said that?
Confusion twitched his eyebrows when I looked up. "Why are you staring at me? You have said many times that the sea air helps a person recover from illness, especially lung problems."
"You hate travel." And he had just spent three years running the length of Europe, I added silently, then went to the Pole in search of me. Why would he want to leave again?
"Would it help you recover faster?"
Perhaps, I admitted with another half-shrug, but that did not mean I wanted to go. Nicolas would be harder to contact from the coast.
"I would rather stay here."
He stared for a long moment, then confusion turned to a sadness that announced he did not need Nicolas' help to glean my thoughts.
"I will not disappear again."
I made no answer, my eyes on the pillow I still struggled to move aside. He could not promise that when the first time had been unplanned, and I would rather find myself alone at Baker Street than on some unknown stretch of beach. Better to stay here, where I knew my surroundings even locked in a memory. I had lost count of the number of returns that had become nothing more than wisps of my imagination.
"Watson." Fingers wrapped around mine, pulling my attention back to him. "I am not going anywhere. I am real. This—" One hand referenced Baker Street, his presence, everything, "is real. If you would truly rather stay in London, fine, but do not sacrifice your health on that. I will not disappear."
I hoped not, and I thought not, but I could not be sure. Not yet. Unsure how much dream could infringe on reality, I would not risk following a ghost to the ocean. I needed time. To see. To believe. To change hope to certainty. A promise meant nothing when I could not trust my eyes.
He was here for the moment, however. He sat in front of me, watching sadly when I refused to let him help with the pillow. The concern lining his forehead deepened when another coughing fit stole my breath, and the remorse in his eyes hinted at some sort of guilt. I would determine the cause of that later, should this prove genuine, but he could stare at me if he wished. I could not keep my own gaze away from him, anyway, still more than half afraid I would wake to find this all an elaborate dream. Did he still block the chair behind him?
Yes, and the cushion still dipped beneath his weight. His cool hand lightly touched my arm.
A small adjustment firmed the contact—and increased the guilt in his eyes. I felt a frown escape. Why would assuring myself of his presence make a difference?
He may have gathered my question, but the words refused to form when he tried. He eventually gave up with a shake of his head. We would discuss that later, he conveyed with a look.
"Do you need anything?"
I indicated a negative. I would probably fall asleep before Mrs. Hudson returned with the tea, but I did not need anything, whether from him or from the kitchen. I lay in the Baker Street sitting room in the presence of one person I had thought to never see again. Mrs. Hudson, Nicolas, Meredith, Tor, and Torsten had all seen him, and his fingers still rested on my arm. The window above my desk cast his shadow on the armrest.
He pulled his chair slightly closer, obviously intending to stay beside me while I slept. If I could still see and touch him after a nap, I would have two more days than I could ever have hoped.
I wanted nothing else.
And, finished! Still can't believe this monster is done (until about a week ago, it was my longest single story), but I sure hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to drop your thoughts below :)
Thank you to JannerWingfeather, Cc, and MHC1987 for your reviews on the last chapter!