Last one, just for fun - and in answer to a 'challenge' by Mini Librarian:
I was performing a hasty toilette on the third day when I heard Holmes's voice frantically calling for me from his bedroom. I dashed down the stairs and came to a flying stop in the room.
He was resting comfortably, and I relaxed slightly.
"What's the matter?" I asked softly, checking his temperature.
"I'm delirious," he said in a dull voice, looking pleadingly at me as if asking me to agree with his self-diagnosis.
"You're perfectly lucid, Holmes," I soothed, straightening the tangled covers, "you cannot be delirious with such a low fever."
"But I am, I tell you!" he fretted, "tell me I am, Watson!"
"Whatever for?"
He closed his eyes, shuddering.
"That – mouse – is talking to me again!"
I turned with annoyance to the bedside table to see that he was quite correct.
"Basil, get out of here – this is a sickroom!" I said in exasperation, "Hasn't Dawson told you to not bother a man when he's ill?"
"My apologies, Doctor," the creature said repentantly, "I just wanted to wish your friend a speedy recovery."
"Well shoo. You can talk to him when he's well."
The mouse nodded, disappearing under a floorboard.
"It's all right, he's gone now, Holmes."
"You were talking to him!"
"He's a very nice little chap."
"Oooh," he moaned, burying his head in the blankets.