A/N: Fluff interlude. ^^ I don't mean to disappoint, but I wasn't going to develop the Scarlet Fever arc much more. I have two chapters drafted to wrap things up, but it's more of a reaction to the situation, I wasn't going to show the mother and daughter more. Anyway, while I get the emotional tone correct, I thought I'd toss in this fluffers.
I lay bedridden in the dark, pressing my head against the wall to absorb some of its coolness. A knock came on the door, but my eyes stayed closed. "That you, Holmes?"
"Yes." His soft footsteps crossed the carpet. "I must leave now, Watson; Lord Breckenridge cannot wait any longer and the last train is on its way to the station. You understand, of course."
I groaned softly, forcing my eyes open. He was near my bedside, silhouetted in the dusky light of drawn curtains. "I do wish I could come, Holmes; I want to help with the case."
"No time for regrets," Holmes said briskly. "There's not much that we can control, so let's save our strength to manage what we're able. Oh I did want to leave this with you, Watson."
"Thanks, but I have a handkerchief already."
"I'm aware of that." He stuffed it in my hand and made to leave.
"It smells like—Holmes, did you rub your pipe—"
"I'm going to miss the train, Watson, I shall see you in three days' time."
He was gone.
It was one of his older handkerchiefs; the worn softness was comforting against the side of my face and it smelled just like my friend. I relaxed, allowing myself to drift asleep.
My spirit did not feel so burdened.