"Watson?"
Noise roused me, and I lifted as if from a deep well, slowly floating from the pleasant darkness. I fought to return.
"Watson, are you awake this time?"
The voice drifted through my awareness, strangely familiar for all that it was so quiet, and it frustratingly denied my attempt to return to sleep. Who was speaking?
"Open your eyes, Watson."
Holmes. That was Holmes' voice, which meant he was finally back from Bedford. I should probably open my eyes for a moment, just to confirm he knew I was not injured. I vaguely remembered putting my sign on the front door, and he would have rushed to the sitting room on sighting it.
"Just how many days did you go without sleep?"
Oh. Good. He had been back long enough to deduce my insomnia, and that also meant he would think nothing of my returning to sleep. I had been awake for too many days, and however much sleep I had gotten was not enough.
"I know you are awake, Watson."
You know wrong, then, I thought. I am not awake, and I do not want to wake. Go away.
He released my wrist instead, taking my hand. "Are you ill? The tea should not have kept you asleep for this long."
A frown tried to escape, though I had no way of knowing if it reached my expression. "This long"? Just how long had I been asleep?
It did not matter, I decided. Holmes knew I had not slept in several days just as he knew I had used that disgusting tea to make myself sleep. I did not need to wake yet.
"Watson?"
Worry lingered in his voice, and I stifled a sigh. Something nagged at him, and if I did not wake now, I might find another doctor here later. I stopped trying to return to sleep.
"I felt that," he confirmed when I tried to squeeze his hand. "Open your eyes."
I would eventually, but I did not want to, and that meant I would not rush it. He knew I rarely woke quickly without a patient involved.
"You need to wake up."
I did not. He wanted me to wake up. My irritated huff never reached my mouth, but laughter tinged his voice as his other hand wrapped around mine.
"Yes, Watson, you need to wake up. You do not realize how long you have been asleep."
Probably eight to twelve hours, I answered silently. I had purposely made the tea strong, and I had downed the entire cup. The tea would have kept me asleep for six or seven hours on its own, and my lack of recent sleep would have prevented my waking for another several hours more. I was still tired enough that I looked forward to sleeping tonight.
"You are stubborn. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Many times, I thought with a touch of amusement, but none more than the man sitting beside me. His impatience would come back to bite him eventually. I would open my eyes when I could and not a moment sooner.
"If you go back to sleep, Watson, I am taking you to hospital."
I might be stubborn, but he was overreacting. There was no reason to go to hospital because I had dosed myself. He just wanted to be a nuisance.
"I am serious, Watson. Open your eyes."
He was a nuisance, but I would call him on it later. I finally pushed away the thick haze, and his grip on my hand tightened when I blinked open my eyes. I stared blearily at the ceiling, trying to wake enough to both focus and speak. I had been deeply asleep, and it was taking me slightly longer than usual to rouse.
"Watson?"
It amazed me how he could uncomplainingly unravel a long line of clues, patiently following one to the next, but he could not wait two minutes for me to wake up enough to speak without slurring. He was far too impatient.
"Watson, answer me."
He knew I could not always speak immediately after waking, and trying to slur my way through a response would only frustrate me and worry him. I used my free hand to flip him a rude gesture instead. He barked a quick laugh, his death grip on my hand relaxing slightly.
"You cannot think you will offend me with that."
Of course not. That was why I did it. I readjusted on the cushion as my eyes finally focused on where he sat next to me, and I felt a frown escape. What the blazes—
He laughed again, probably at my expression.
"Do you not like my disguise?" he asked.
He looked as if he had combined three disguises into one outfit. At least two days' growth whiskered his cheeks, his dark hair had been slicked in multiple directions to look like he had lost a fight with his pillow, and traces of makeup lingered on his forehead to give him freckles. The effect was enough to make me wonder if I was truly awake.
"You are awake," he told me, easily reading my thoughts. "I did not remove my disguise before I returned home, and I have not had time to completely do so since."
I wondered why, but I did not try to ask yet. I freed my hand and slowly pulled myself upright, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. The mantle clock read shortly after seven, and I had slept dreamlessly. I felt much better after some fourteen hours of sleep. Perhaps I would take the sign off the door today.
"The clock is wrong, Watson."
Yes, it would be, I remembered. It had needed winding shortly before I had fallen asleep, and it would have stopped soon enough. So it was not seven in the morning, but the cloud light prevented me from using the angle of the sun to determine the time.
No matter. I still felt better for the rest.
"When—did you get home?" I finally asked, a stretching yawn breaking the question in the middle.
"Twenty hours ago."
What?
I spun to look at him, ready to accuse him of having me on when I noticed the lingering concern in his gaze.
"How many days did you go without sleep?" he asked again.
"Six," I answered. No wonder he had been so adamant that I wake. "You truly returned twenty hours ago?"
He nodded. "I intended to try to fool you with my disguise, but you did not answer the door. By the time I retrieved my valise from the closest bolthole, you had put up the sign, and you were sound asleep when I made it to the sitting room."
He must have entered minutes after I finished the tea. I had commented on his impeccable timing before, but this was ridiculous. What were the chances he would return moments after I finally gave up on falling asleep naturally?
Higher than nothing, obviously, and I stretched again as I turned on the cushion.
"I apparently needed it," I slowly replied. "Why have you not removed your disguise?" The makeup and hair oil would be growing annoying best, and the beginnings of a beard would start itching soon.
"Do you remember anything?" he asked in answer. I frowned at him. I had been asleep. What was there to remember?
A flickering grin competed with his worry. "You would not let me. Every time I left the room, you tried to follow."
Well. That was strange. "Sorry."
He waved away the apology, still studying me. "Does the tea always make you sleepwalk?"
I shook my head. "The tea should have made me sleep for six or seven hours," I told him around another yawn. "While I did not expect to sleep for twenty hours, I am not surprised I slept several hours past the tea wearing off, but it would have been the lack of sleep this last week, not the tea, that made me restless."
"Why could you not sleep?"
I shrugged. I did not know for sure, and there was no reason to speculate.
"No idea. I simply hope this ended the cycle. What did I do when you tried to leave the room?"
"Tried to follow," he said again, skirting the question.
I rolled my eyes but did not push him. He watched as I poured a glass of water from the pitcher one of us had left nearby.
"Did you find Sir Humphrey's bauble?"
His smirk reappeared at my phrasing. "Yes, eventually. He had hidden it in his wardrobe for safekeeping, but his wife found it and moved it to her jewelry box. When she passed, her niece inherited the jewelry box as the sole female heir. The niece thought it as fake as everything else in that chest and wore it frequently, and she thought nothing of it when the small gem disappeared in her room. I finally found it shoved in a hollow log, where the maid had hidden it after finding it trapped in a baseboard."
"You followed that trail in a week?"
"I did," he answered almost proudly. "Sir Humphrey fired the maid for stealing, lectured the niece on taking care of her belongings, and insisted on checking anything else family members wanted to take from his wife's things."
"How did the family take that?"
"Not well," he admitted, and I laughed.
"I suppose you left before the real drama began?"
He nodded immediately. I released another laugh, but he changed the topic before I could form a response.
"Simpson's for supper? Mrs. Hudson is still away."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him again. He was not as interested in Simpson's as he was in ensuring I ate, and we both knew I was still too tired to have any interest in cooking. As he barely knew the difference between a spatula and a turner—except that Mrs. Hudson had only ever chased him from the kitchen with one and the other was the neighbor's name—our options were the simple meals he could make alone or going out. I did not answer for a moment, debating. Was I interested in a full meal?
I could be, I decided. I was not hungry yet, but that would probably change if I smelled food. Relief flickered across his face when I agreed, and I changed clothes and freshened up while he finished removing his disguise. A few minutes saw us out the door.
Taking my arm when we reached the street, he never stopped studying me even as he opened a conversation about his trip, but I did not comment. I knew my continued fatigue was evident just as I knew I could very easily sleep several more hours. I simply hoped that having someone else in that silent flat would let me sleep tonight.
Sleepwalking or no, I was quite willing to dose myself again if not. I refrained from acknowledging that to Holmes.
Finished! though this one will have a sequel eventually. Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to review! :)
Thanks to Corynutz, Jean-Moddalle, and MHC1987 for the reviews on the last chapter :D
