"Don'go."
I forced the words out, more concerned with keeping him home, keeping him safe, than how my words slurred together with fatigue. I had been drifting back to sleep when he expressed a desire to leave, and I fought to open my eyes, blindly managing to grab his sleeve before he moved out of reach.
My bleary gaze met worried grey eyes. "I will not be long, and your fever will climb again if we do not restock on fever reducer."
Even after so many years, I still did not want him to know the results of that case so long ago, and I kept a firm grip on his sleeve, shaking my head at him. I had to keep him here. I knew which pharmacy he would custom, and I could not let him walk that street today. I could only hope he would write off any implications to the fever. He was too logical to seriously entertain the idea for long, but enough clues would eventually bring a realization.
"Mrs. Hudson is away until tonight," he reminded me, still trying to get me to let go, "and we need to keep your fever down."
He tried to pull his sleeve from my grasp, and I gripped him tighter.
"No. Send som'ne. You stay here." He had to stay. If he left, he might never return, and I tried to think of a way to prevent him from leaving when I was too ill to stand.
"I do not trust Billy going to the pharmacy. Let me go, Watson. I will not be long."
I shook my head again, keeping my grip on his sleeve even as I relaxed into the settee, fighting to keep my eyes open. My head ached from the fever, and I wanted to go back to sleep, but I had to stay awake until I knew he would stay here.
"We are out of both fever reducer and the supplies to compound more," he continued when I remained silent. "I need to go while you are still lucid."
I continued shaking my head in a mute refusal, but his words gave me an idea. I considered it for only a moment before implementing it. I hated to use his worry against him, but by refusing to listen to me, he was leaving me no other option. It was not often that I worked to avoid something truly dangerous, but something much worse than simply inconvenient would result if he walked that street today.
I relaxed further into the cushions, letting the pain in my head show on my face.
"Stay…" I let my voice fade, then affected another attempt. "Stay here," I said weakly, breaking eye contact with a slow blink. It was extremely difficult to reopen my eyes after that slow blink, and I know he noticed.
"It is alright, Watson. I will not be more than a few minutes."
I tightened my grip but let my eyes glaze over, slowly refocusing to look through him, and the worry in his gaze grew.
"We need to lower your fever."
I refused to loosen my grip on his sleeve, but I made no answer, flitting my gaze around the room. If he did not want Billy going to the pharmacy, he could send an Irregular with a note. The idea needed to be his own instead of my suggestion, however, and I waited for him to make that decision. The shop owner would help the child find the right packet, but Holmes needed to stay here.
"Watson?"
His other hand brushed my forehead when I remained silent, and I shied from the touch.
"H'ms?" I muttered, the blanket falling aside as I craned my neck to look around the room. "Where…?"
"I am right here, Watson." His hand wrapped around where I gripped his sleeve, and I frowned at being the cause of the worry in his voice. I could not let him leave, however, and I kept my gaze unfocused, staring through a picture on a nearby table. Holmes was not the only one who knew how to successfully malinger, and while I hated lying to him, I could make an exception to prevent him from walking that street today. I had seen far too many patients over the years to be unable to copy them.
"Where's H'ms?" I asked the picture.
Ignoring Holmes' attempts to get my attention, I paused for a moment, then frowned again, as if the picture had answered. "But…said wou'n' leave me 'lone."
His fingers brushed my forehead again, trying to check my fever, and I flinched into the cushions, raising the arm not latched onto his sleeve as if I expected him to strike me.
"No!"
He nearly started at my cry, withdrawing his hand, and I glanced towards the door as if looking for him to reenter the room. He watched me, unsure what to do, and I slowly lowered my arm.
"Want H'ms," I muttered, my gaze still searching blankly.
"I am right here, Watson," he repeated, again squeezing my hand, and this time I stilled, looking around the room as if searching for where the voice had come.
"H'ms?"
"You are not alone, Watson."
I frowned again but settled into the cushions, affecting a shiver as I weakly tugged on the blanket with one hand. "Where?" I asked the room. "Can't see you."
"I know," he answered quietly, settling several blankets around me though I refused to release his sleeve, "but I am still here."
"Stay?"
"Of course."
I let my eyes drift closed but kept my grip on his sleeve, and I felt him moving around. The scratching of a pen a moment later coincided with a knock on the door, and I used the noise to stay conscious.
"Enter," he called, just loudly enough to be heard through the door.
"Mr. Holmes?" Tim Minor's voice asked cautiously as the door opened. "Did that signal mean come up?"
"It did," he replied quickly. "I need you to run to the pharmacy. Give this note to the shop owner. He will find what I need, and here is money to pay for it. Keep the change."
"Yes, sir." Footsteps walked back toward the door but paused before leaving. "Will the doctor be alright?"
"Of course he will, Tim. I just cannot leave him right now, and we are out of fever reducer."
The door closed behind him, and Holmes slowly readjusted in his chair. A dripping wet cloth landed gently on my face a moment later, and I unintentionally flinched.
"Cold," I muttered, eyes still closed but unable to pretend to sleep after flinching. I twisted, feebly trying to move away from the cloth, and succeeded in dumping it to the cushion below me.
He put it back a moment later, however. "I know it is," he said quietly, "but we need to bring your fever down."
"H'ms?"
"I am not going anywhere, Watson. Go back to sleep."
I frowned but stopped struggling, drifting into a true sleep moments later.
"He was there, Mr. Holmes! I swear it."
Tim's voice woke me, and I held still, listening as I tried to go back to sleep.
"Hush. You will wake Watson. I believe you, but he is supposed to be on the continent right now. What was he doing?"
"Nothing much. Looked like he was scanning faces, but he never moved from his corner."
Silence fell, and I felt Holmes' gaze on me.
The man they were discussing had a massive grudge against Holmes, had vowed to kill him if he ever saw my friend again. Holmes did not believe in luck, but I knew he recognized what he had avoided by staying with me. I just hoped he ascribed it to chance instead of foresight.
"Thank you, Tim," he finally said. I heard the pen scratch again. "Take this note to Mycroft, then you can go back to your spot outside."
The door clicked shut, and silence reigned for a long moment before Holmes sighed. He said nothing, however, and, unable to go back to sleep for now, I opened my eyes.
He noticed immediately, of course. "Watson?"
I blinked several times, and worried grey eyes slowly came into focus as he leaned over me. I hated waking to find someone leaning over me—even him—but my arm moving with his distracted me. I glanced down instead of scowling at him, realizing I had not released his sleeve even in sleep.
"Sorry," I muttered, dropping his sleeve.
Ignoring the apology for what he thought I could not control, he merely studied me, and I soon fidgeted under that keen gaze.
"Holmes?" I asked when he continued staring.
He brushed the question aside but turned, pouring me a glass of water and stirring a packet of fever reducer into it.
"How are you feeling?"
I frowned, pondering the uncharacteristic question. Normally, he simply deduced whatever he wanted to know.
"Tired," I answered around sips. "I'll be alright, Holmes. It's just a fever."
He continued staring at me, and I waited for the question of why I had not wanted him to leave, but it never came. When he let me go back to sleep without asking, I allowed the hope that logic had won over evidence.
After all, precognition was a wish in a child's story, not something anyone could actually do.
Only one chapter left! How do you think Watson knows what will happen? And does Holmes figure it out? Don't forget to review! :)