Fever Raged On

[thebeastherself]

The cold was unbelievable; the fever raged on. Alternating between uncontrollable trembling and a horrifying frozen numbness, Watson felt as though he might die at any moment. He rested a hand on his forehead, well aware he would not be able to tell how bad off he was in his condition. He hurt, all over, and he could think of nothing to ease his pain.

“H’mes,” he croaked again, and this time thought he might have been answered by the creaking of the door. Or perhaps he was delirious. No, those were definitely Holmes’ footsteps he heard outside the room.