Disclaimer: Not mine
Im sooooo sorry this one has taken so long, but thank you to everyone who is reading, and an even bigger thank you to those that are reviewing!
Enjoy:
It was too late, and the next moment we found ourselves confronted by a tall blond man in his early 40s, his austere face just visible.
"Who are you?" he growled, but the moment he spotted Holmes his face took on a sudden change "Mr. Holmes!" he cried "What are you doing here?"
"Higgins!" said my friend cheerfully. "Higgins is a friend of mine Watson." He then said in answer to my questioning gaze.
"Your friend Mr. Holmes 'ere, helped me out of a tricky problem a few years back." Higgins said to me, now smiling.
"Elementary Higgins elementary!" said my friend, although he had gone slightly red.
"Well you might think so Mr. Holmes, but I didn't. But what are you doing on my ship?"
"Well that quite a long story, old friend, perhaps we could find somewhere more habitable to tell it?"
After being escorted to the captains' room, and given a most welcome glass of brandy each, we sat and told Higgins our tale. By the end of it his mouth was agape and he took no time in waking the chef to make us something to eat while he prepared a couple of beds. It was hard to say which of the two was more relieving.
I slept on through to morning, but was by no means feeling better when I awoke. On the contrary, I was shaking and sweating. Opening my eyes, I found a man leaning over me with Holmes and Higgins standing behind him.
"Yes it's definitely fever Mr. Holmes, It was right for you to come to me. He needs rest and plenty of water.", came a slightly muffled sounding voice belonging to he who was apparently the ships' doctor.
The next day was insufferable. It brought back vivid memories of when I was recovering from my bullet wound. I tossed and turned in a state of uncontrollable agony. Surprisingly, Holmes stayed by my bedside. He now offered me a drink, but I was feeling so queasy I declined.
"Well, now it's my turn to say it.", he said holding the cup towards my face. "You must drink Watson."
Reluctantly, I took a few sips, my swallowing mechanism seemed not to work, and thus I choked slightly on the liquid. I knew that he would be impossible when he was ill if I refused to drink when I was. It appeared that he delighted in telling me what I was used to saying.
"Through your fever Watson you are losing..."
"...two liters of water a minute." I said, completing his sentence.
He smiled, but not his usual sardonic smile. This one was genuine and somewhat tender for a man such as himself.
"Yes, exactly." He held the cup once more to my lips, while I struggled to remember how to swallow.
A pain shot through my stomach and I was forced to lie down with a slight groan. A wet handkerchief was placed on my head, and brought with it an infinite amount of comfort. Holmes rested his hand on top of it and gently patted away the beads of sweat now running down my face. Such tenderness coming from him was unknown to me. But I presently remembered that this was the first time I found myself ill in his presence, and he made a better nurse then one would expect.
It took me around two days to get over the worst of my illness. Through it all, Holmes remained by my side, showing a level of devotion and loyalty, which was, in his case, often an overlooked quality.
As I slowly regained my strength, walks across the deck became a common occurrence. Holmes stood near in case I should fall. Although he said it was because he needed the air, I had done it enough times myself to know the truth. The way his hand would automatically fly into the air when ever I would give the smallest sign of stumbling, was the give away. On seeing that I was fine he would then find an excuse to use the hand, for example scratching his head.
Our new voyage was bound for New York , for it seems that we had been picked up on a Bermuda Island, not far from our intended destination. By the time that we had reached port, my fever had done its' time, and washed over as though it were never there. Captain Higgins had been kindly enough to lend us some clothing, for our own were now of more use as washing rags then actual garments. I disembarked and found a wall to lean against as Holmes had a few quiet words with the captain. Although curious at the time, the fact that Holmes later pulled out some American money to pay for a cheap inn, told me the nature of their discussion.
We stayed at the converted house for three days whilst, to the best of my knowledge, Holmes made a few private inquiries. I spent the days taking in the sights, for it appeared he had no use for me.
Holmes POV:
On managing to obtain temporary lodging for myself and Watson, I set about inquiring into the whereabouts of a certain Randolph Composé. For only he had known we were on that ship and the disaster that had followed was, by no means, an accident. Watsons' door had been locked by another, who had no doubt, expected to trap myself as well, however on finding that I was not there had settled for just one of us. Luckily, my work has brought me as many a friend as it has enemies, and it did not take long to track down a few ex-clients, who, on account of my insistence that they not pay me at the time, were now more then ready to help.
By the second day, however, they had yielded no results. Not a single thread lay in my hand. Naturally, the police were of no use, and were so closed to me that I almost missed my Scotland Yard acquaintances. It was on the third day that a promising bit of information finally came. Mr. Fredrick Arnold, from the case of the Fairground Cripple, which was before Watson's time, came to me saying that his groom had heard of the man and knew where he lived.
I was proceeding with haste to the address given, when a thought occurred to me.
Watson.
Of course, I had rejected his offers to accompany me in my investigation as he had only just recovered from his fever. To go alone to the actual finale, however, was a somewhat depressing thought. He has no doubt mentioned my taste for the dramatic in his narratives, and it was this custom which drew me to bang on the roof of my cab and give instructions to return to the inn.
On returning I found that my companion had gone out. However, I did not have to wait long for his return.
"Watson! Your here!" I said as he walked into the room that I had previously been pacing.
"You've found him haven't you?" he said by way of greeting.
"Am I that transparent?"
"Only when you're on a scent.", he replied with a smile.
"Well yes, I believe I have. Follow me, I'll explain on the way."
It took no more then 30 minutes to reach the address; I spent the time thinking about what to do once there. Should I confront the man? Or should I lay low and watch his moves?
My mind was made up for me, however, when we got there. We entered a large set of iron gates that opened up into a house like a mansion. Creepers seemed to hold it in place, and the only things that distinguished it as a house was small windows that overlooked the large grounds. It was across the said grounds that we were walking when a horse came galloping into view. I recognized the rider in an instant.
Walking forwards with an air of superiority, I found it hard not to grimace with dislike. He had spotted us now, and rode forward. On seeing who we were however his eyes widened in shock.
"You!" he yelled.
"Yes us." I replied, happy at his surprise on finding us alive.
"Your attempts were in vain, and now we shall return you to the place where you belong." I said, provoking the temperamental side of his nature.
Much to my surprise, he raised his horse whip. I raised my arm too late, and the whip flew though the air, striking me across the head. Dazed, I fell to the ground unable to move due to the sudden, searing pain.
Through the blood, I was still able to watch in shock, as Watson let out a cry of rage and ran after the man that was now galloping away. He was fast, and caught up with the man within moments; leaping upwards he caught him by the leg and pulled him from the horse, letting out viscous blows. The mans' groom had run to the scene. Pulling Watson off his master, he helped Colonel Sebastian Moran to his feet, and escorted him to the house as Watson ran to my aid.
Good old Watson.
To be continued...
Thank you for reading so far, and i implore you to review!
(next chapter will come sooner)