"Holmes," the voice spoke again, soft, desperate. "Please turn around…"
And simply because he had to know, Holmes did. Dr. Watson was standing steady in front of the doorframe, one hand outstretched toward Holmes, beckoning him, pleading with him. His face was pale and his eyes dark. He looked as though he hadn't slept or eaten in a week. "Watson," Holmes breathed. The sight of his dearest friend so compromised and clearly grief-worn caused him to take a tentative step toward the doctor.
Then, Holmes caught sight of Mycroft hovering inside the train car, watching them. Watson saw the blanching of Holmes' face before Holmes even felt it. Watson knew what he assumed, knew that he would assume it the moment that Mycroft had suggested this trip.
"Holmes, it's all right. Just…" Holmes backed up a step when Watson came a little closer to him. Watson stilled. "It isn't what you think, dear boy," Watson tried to explain.
"I'm not going to any hospital," Holmes growled, almost a warning. "I am recovering from my lapse in health and I will stay where I please."
Watson's heart fluttered in excitement. Then it was true. Holmes was getting his mind back. "Holmes," Watson said. He was unable to form any words for quite a while, his thoughts centered on Holmes' recovery. Finally, he found his voice. "We aren't trying to take you to the hospital, Holmes. We're on a trip to the country so that you and I can…grieve and convalesce peacefully."
"What?" Holmes said in disbelief, his eyes darting from Watson in front of him to Mycroft inside the train.
"We're going to Sussex, to a very secluded house. Your brother tells me he has visited it before. It's said to be quite serene," Watson added.
"Are you all right?" Holmes suddenly asked. Watson was leaning wearily on his cane, looking thin and exhausted.
Watson gave a small, fleeting smile. "Not really," he confessed. "It's going to hurt for a long time, Holmes, losing her like I did. But now that you are back, healthier, sturdier, I won't be facing my battles alone."
Holmes nodded. He couldn't seem to do anything else at the moment.
Watson reached his hand out again. "Let's go back into the dining car, Holmes," he suggested. "It's bloody freezing out here."
Holmes was in tentative mid-step when the train lurched around a corner. The jolt took him by surprise and he lost his already compromised balance. He heard Watson yelp in terror as he staggered over the unbarred edge of the balcony, actually feeling the rushing ground pitching toward him.