After refreshing her tea Kitty walked quietly up the stairs and stood in the doorway of Sherlock's bedroom. Her eyes were transfixed on the resting form of her mentor as his pale, ill body remained perfectly still beneath the thick covers. Sherlock was laying on his back, the covers fell away from his face as his body relaxed into a long needed rest. His face was pale and sweaty, his breathing was slow but steady and easily noticeable under the covers as the fabric rose and fell with his chest.

Kitty knew enough about Joan to trust her word as a doctor. But as a concerned friend she wasn't willing to take the chance that Sherlock's condition could suddenly deteriorate. Keeping quiet she walked into the room and sat in the worn armchair in the corner of the room and continued to remain vigil at his bedside. It didn't take long for Kitty to fall prey to sleep as well. Curling up in the chair and resting her head against her arm which was draped over the armrest, she shut her eyes and drifted off peacefully.

Coughing awoke Kitty after a few hours, she lifted her head and focused on Sherlock who was in the middle of a severe coughing fit. His whole body was wracking with each violent muscle spasm in his chest. From the bed she could see that Sherlock's pallor had somehow manage to pale even further and the sweating had intensified. Rushing to his side Kitty put her arms on his shoulders to try to ease his physical strain and keep him from falling off the bed onto the floor.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" She knew it was a stupid question to ask but at that moment she didn't care if he insulted her or answered sarcastically. She just wanted him to answer. "Can you breathe?"

The coughing fit had finally passed and he was taking in deep breaths through gritted teeth, his hand clutching at the right side of his ribcage. He weakly opened his eyes staring at Kitty, she could see him struggling to remember who she was and where he was; the fever causing mild delirium. "Kitty?"

"Yes. I'm here. What do you require?"

Sherlock winced in pain as he forced himself to take another deep breath. "I do not know." He answered feebly. "I do not have enough information to provide a logical answer."

Kitty gently put her hand to Sherlock's forehead. "You're fever has returned." His skin was clammy and abnormally hot to the touch.

"Kitty?" Sherlock's eyes began to glaze over as he spoke. "I need you... to..."

As his voice trailed away Kitty felt her heart skip a beat. "Sherlock?" She shook his gently. "Sherlock. What do you need me to do? Please answer!"

Instead of a verbal response he sat up straight suddenly and wrapped his arms around her waist like a small child clinging to their mother.

Initially Kitty flinched as he grabbed at her, the painful memories of her traumatic ordeal back in England still fresh in her mind. She slowly lowered her arms from a defensive posture and lightly returned Sherlock's 'hug' which thankfully seemed to calm him, his tense body relaxing beneath her hands. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

"Don't leave me."

"I- I won't." She hated herself for stammering. "I won't leave you. What do you need?"

He didn't answer her question, he remained silent as his head rested against her side and arms began to droop away from her body.

Thinking quickly Kitty put her arms beneath Sherlock's and hefted him upright from the bed into an unbalanced standing position, she allowed his weakened body to slump against her own as he began fading into unconsciousness. With Sherlock wrapped in her arms in a tight grip Kitty began carefully stepping backward out of the room, nearly dragging the taller man as she exited the room and returned to the long hallway.

"Okay, we can do this." With all the grace of a newborn fawn Kitty 'escorted' Sherlock down the hall and back into the bathroom. She was disappointed to see that the tub water had already been drained, she'd have to refill it and that would take time. Instead she climbed into the tub and pulled Sherlock into the porcelain basin along side her, still allowing him to lay as a unconscious mass against her tiring body.

After repositioning herself and Sherlock, ensuring that he was face up and able to breathe normally, she let his heavy head rest against her shoulder. With her free arm she reached up and turned on the shower faucet to a chilly, but not too cold, temperature. From above the freed cool water drenched the stationary duo. Kitty sat in absolute misery as the abundant moisture caused her clothes to cling uncomfortably to her body.

"There we are." She spoke to Sherlock even though she did expect him to answer. Her teeth began to chatter slightly from the sudden temperature drop. "Not quite an ice bath, but this should suffice in reducing your temperature all the same."

"Kitty..." Sherlock mumbled weakly, his eyes remaining closed. "I need you to tell me something."

"What's that?" She brushed her wet bangs out of her eyes, smudging her eyeliner in the process.

"Am I a good person?"

The question was completely unexpected and sincere, but she didn't know to answer. Kitty had only known him for a few months and to offer a definitive answer for such a question seemed too illogical. Instead she chose to wrestle her opposite arm that was pinned beneath Sherlock's body free, and gently ran her hands through his short, damp hair to provide some degree of comfort as they sat together in the tub.

...to be continued...

Author's Note: Wow! Thank you so much for all the encouragement to keep the story going, I had no idea that so many people would like it! ^.^