John Watson heard the clicking very vaguely. Click click, click click, it went, almost like a clock that wasn't right, or maybe a mouse sneaking around his room. Mice… he hated mice, but he hated rats more. Rats, rats which had crawled over him while he lay dying and helpless for months on end… Click click, click click. What was that sound? Was it really a click, or could it be a drip? Was there water coming in somewhere? If there was, he needed to get up, to find it and fix it. Click click, click click.
He shut his eyes tighter and buried his head in his pillow, wishing the clicking would go away. What time was it? Certainly not time to be up yet. He was so very tired, and thirsty, and his head was aching, and he just wanted to get back to sleep. There were voices, then, just outside his room, which he heard without really listening to them. If Holmes needed him, Holmes would call for him.
"What are you doing?" came one muffled voice.
"Breaking and entering, Mrs. Hudson," answered that of Sherlock Holmes.
"Whyever should you need to? I thought the doctor leaves his door unlocked for the eventuality a patient needs him?"
"He does, but there are times when old habits die hard, and he sometimes locks himself in when he's not feeling well. He hasn't been responding to me, so I'm going to check on him."
"Mr. Holmes, you do realize I have the spare keys to every door around here. There is no need for you to use lockpicks."
"And there is no reason for me to worry you about the doctor. I'll take care of him, Mrs. Hudson."
"Pish-posh. You know very well you'd be coming to consult me as soon as you had to so much as wipe his brow. Now move over."
There was another click, then, of a key sliding back the lock, and Watson tried to ignore it but couldn't as he felt Holmes' hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. He groaned from the pain in his head, but acquiesced to his friend urging him to sit up and drink some water.
"Watson? Not quite feeling better, then, I see. You can go back to sleep in just a little while, and have no fears that you are alone. Mrs. Hudson and I are quite dedicated to seeing you well."
Watson didn't reply, too focused on not being nauseous, but he knew he didn't need to. Holmes was in earnest with his offer to look after him, had always been a good friend. Watson leaned against him, trusting him completely, and knew that trust wasn't misplaced.
For the prompt from goodpenmanship: a mysterious sound.
Note: I'm pushing this story out early due to incoming winter storms and possible power outages. I may choose to make some edits later (when I'm more awake, haha).