(Final GMD episode.)
Watson rushed down the area steps, almost tripping over the fleeing stray. "Good boy, Toby! Holmes! Basil! Are you down there?"
"Good to s-see you, W-Watson." The detective's voice was alarmingly faint.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not badly," a second, shrill voice answered, making Dawson sag with relief. "But he needs to get warm, soon!"
Watson gingerly removed the last shards from the window. "Holmes, I'm going to lower Toby down to you in your overcoat. Wrap up together, he'll keep you warm until I can get you out."
"Can I have my sh-shoes back f-first?"
"Really, Watson," Holmes grumbled from under a mountain of blankets. "Must you keep plaguing me with that thing every other minute?"
"Five minutes, Holmes," Watson said sternly, holding the thermometer up to the light, relieved to see the detective back to his usual convalescent self. "But if you want me to find somewhere else to put it, by all means, keep grousing!"
Seeing the glint in his friend's eye, Holmes preserved a wary silence until lunchtime. No doubt Basil was faring better under Dawson's care...
"Frustrating, isn't it?"
Moriarty blinked in astonishment at the large rodent sitting at ease on his inkwell, apparently dressed for the opera.
Yellow eyes gleamed. "We seem to have a common enemy, Professor. Perhaps a temporary... alliance would be mutually beneficial..."