Disclaimer: Holmes and Watson are not mine sobs.

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Enjoy!

Watson:

My feet sprung into action before my mind had time to catch up, and I found myself pushing my way though the foliage into which Holmes had disappeared. I came out into a clearing. If Holmes had been ambushed then this would have been the perfect place for it. Even with his eagle sharp eyes he would not have seen them coming. The question now was which way they had gone. I listened intently but nothing was to be heard, spinning around madly I tried to guess, but was forced to calm down and assess the situation, as Holmes himself would do. It was a few minutes of impatiently glaring at the forest floor before I found that for which I was looking. Footprints. Not of shoes though, of bare feet. From my observations it was clear that there had been around three people. Two lines deeply ploughed into the ground were evidently from my friend being dragged across the ground, presumably unconscious, or I would still be able to hear him.

I crept though the forest, greatly aware that I was myself in danger of being captured if I was not quiet. The thrill of the chase pounded through my veins, and I was forced once again to remember my army training. On one training exercise in Nagpur, my squad and I were placed under simulated battle conditions, and had to navigate our way though the dense forests without being seen or heard by the other group. The techniques used came flooding back into memory as I crept though the foliage. My tracking skills also came in handy as I noticed small signs like broken sticks that pointed me in the right direction.

After a while in pursuit my ears started to pick up voices coming from ahead. They were faint at first, but soon I could hear definite words. Although in what language I could not be certain. I was mere feet away from them now, and as I peered through a gap in a thick wad of leaves it took all my self restraint to stop me from gasping in horror. For there before me was a scene one would only expect to see in a book. Men and women danced around in their traditional clothes singing as they circled a growing fire. A few of their huts stood in an enjoining clearing. The disturbing thing that made me clasp my hand to my mouth however, was the person who was hanging on spit roast stick above the flames. Beads of sweat were already starting to trickle down Holmes' face even though the fire was, for the moment, reasonable small. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, for the smoke was obviously burning hot. Flames licked his white buttoned shirt, and he gave flinches of pain as they came into contact with his skin. Now was the time for quick thinking on my part, one false step and it would mean his life.

I had only a moment to think before acting. I had retained a few dry matches for use in an emergency, and it was with these that I created the detraction I hoped would save my friend. Creeping into the adjoining clearing I struck a match and held it against the straw of one of the huts roofs. Within seconds the whole thing was ablaze and I rushed back to my hiding place to watch the panic unfold. For me it took a lifetime for them to notice. Holmes was now jerking about frantically letting out whimpers as the flames lashed across his chest. Finally one of the natives gave a cry of warning as he saw smoke coming from the other clearing, they all rushed to tend the fire, forgetting their catch. The moment the last person disappeared through the thin layer of trees I sprang out from where I was hiding, and rushed towards my companion. He kept his eyes glued shut as I unbound him, and I couldn't blame him as I struggled to keep my own open to see what I was doing. The heat was overwhelming but I managed to pull him away to safety. He sputtered and coughed, unaware of my presence. I placed his arm around my shoulders and ran, dragging his frail form with me.

I continued to run long after I could no longer hear their cries. A few well placed tree trunks and a small ditch provided ample cover should they return. When laying Holmes down, a large amount of blood leaking from his strewn hair caught my eye. This no doubt, was where they had struck him unconscious so they could carry him back to their camp. I worked feverishly, having only a handkerchief, water and my stitching kit to help me, instead of my usual medical case. He appeared to be unconscious, but would let out a gasp for air every now and then. After soaking the burns and covering them the best I could, I noticed Holmes was starting to wake up and stood back to give him room to breath.

"Watson" he mumbled sitting up, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

"Yes its me, you've been burnt quite badly Holmes, I've dressed them the best I could."

"Good old Watson. I presume I was part of some 'Coutume indigène' was I? Ha! The sick cannibals!" I nodded in agreement.

"However, I did hear one, singular point of interest... something they said."

"You speak their language?" I said in astonishment.

"Hardly Watson hardly, nevertheless these south American tribes all have a similar tongue, I was able to pick up on a few words."

"And?"

"And, Watson it would appear that escape does not entirely allude us. Whilst I was there, there was talk of 'the boat' that was apparently to bring them something, though what I could not distinguish."

"And if there's a boat bringing them, supplies presumably, then..."

"Then it must be coming from the main land."

"From America!"

"Indeed, our one problem lies in obtaining a place aboard it, for I do not believe we will be welcome guests having deprived them of their dinner." He gave one of his quick grins.

"Are we to smuggle our way aboard then?"

"I'm afraid it is the only way. And we must act fast for it will be here in the next few days." He stood up, wobbling slightly as he did so. "I'm fine Watson." he said as I shot out my hand to support him. I could tell however, that he would not be climbing trees again in a hurry.

It took only a few hours to prepare and find out where the boat was to come to dock. It also took a great deal of effort on my part for, though he denied it strongly, Holmes struggled to move and breathed as though he had run for miles. Everything was set. We were to lay low until the opportune moment when we would dart out and find cover somewhere below deck. This part of the plan went accordingly and we managed, once some men had disembarked, to run aboard the cargo ship and slip through a trap door without being seen. Finding a place among some old crates with covering. We were almost free from this dreadful place once and for all.

We spent many an hour jammed between the wooden boxes. The swaying of the ship together with the lack of food making us fall ill. By the end of the next day it was becoming unbearable, me with my old wounds and Holmes with his burns meant that neither of us were comfortable by any means. In the end we decided it was best to sneak out in the dead of night when none of the crew were awake, in an attempt to find food. I assumed that I would be going alone, however no sooner was I above deck then Holmes pulled himself up behind me. There was no use arguing with him, and the mixture of fresh air coupled with being able to stretch myself out were too nice a feeling to deny to my friend. Not that I would have been able to at any rate.

We crept silently along the deck towards the supplies room where the food was kept. It was a dirty room and showed quite clearly the result of bringing no women aboard, food had splattered onto the floor and no one had taken the energy to clean it. A set of shelves stood at the back of the room. Boxes of biscuits, rice, soup and other foods stood upon it. It was towards this that we advanced and quietly started to fill our arms. I was just reaching for a loaf of bread when I heard a noise behind me, someone was coming down the steps. "Who's down there?" came a mans harsh voice. Both Homes and I searched around frantically but there was no where to hide.

To be continued...

It will still be exciting even if they're not on the island so keep reading! Please review, I hope you enjoyed.