Difference of Fear
Here's my entry for Challenge016 at/on Watson's Woes.
I am lazy, so I just copy the post from there. XD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Difference of Fear
Author: alaylith
Rating: K+
Universe: bookverse
Word Count: 3.165
Warnings: blood, minor injuries
Summary: 5x Holmes was able to protect Watson and 1x he wasn’t.
A/N: Yay, I wrote something again! Atm I am totally stressed out with school and have no time for anything, but just as the extension of the challenge was posted I got an idea and managed to write it! And thanks to kcs for the extra day, I wasn’t able to finish yesterday. ._.
And this story got two firsts for me:
1. I wrote for the first time a 5x + 1x story! :) It was really fun to write 6 different little stories, which all orbit the same subject. Have to do that again! ^^
2. I wrote for the first time drabble-like stories. All my stories were always “full” stories, from beginning to end (one reason why I don’t finish most of them). I’ve never written just a little part of a story, just starting somewhere in the middle.
It’s weird, I like to read such stories (even though I very often wish for a longer story), but I just could never write one myself. I always want to include all details - it’s weird to start in the “middle”.
So I am not sure if I did it right, please tell me if there should be a bit more information or if it is okay or if I already wrote too much sometimes.
As I said, it’s just weird to start in the middle. oO
Now I hope you like the story (stories) - was awesome to write something again. ^_^
I.
I could hear my own heartbeat in the silence of the night as I was prowling through the warehouse.
Looking around a crate I tried to see any movement in the darkness, but neither Holmes nor the murderer we were hunting were visible.
Our prey fled into the darkened warehouse and Holmes thought it best if we separate and search for him.
So far I had not found him; I was not even able to hear anything. Nothing than my own low breathing and my rapid beating heart.
I watched the passageway for a few more seconds, before slowly stepping into it. My gun was cold and heavy in my hand, always pointed ahead and my steps were silent.
There was nothing - no sound, no movement - but the hair on my neck rose and I knew that he was right behind me. I whirled around, raised my gun, but in that second I already saw the gun in his hands, directly pointed at me and the little light showed me the smug smile on his lips.
At the same time that I heard the shot I saw how Holmes jumped the gunman and in the same instant I could feel the burn on my cheek.
Reflexively I closed one eye and took a step backwards, but my medical mind already recognized the shallow cut and the little blood that flowed to my chin.
Unconcerned I watched Holmes shackling our murderer and then blowing his police whistle, before he turned to me and gifted me with a glowing, satisfied grin.
"You were following him already, weren't you?" I growled slightly, but not really angry with him. I knew my Holmes after all. "The 'let us look for him separately' was just your way of saying 'go on and play the bait'".
Holmes waved my comment away and then took a handkerchief from his pocket. "Here, before you bloody your collar. Mrs. Hudson would not be happy with us."
I frowned for a moment longer at him, before sighing and taking the cloth to stench the blood. "She would not be happy with YOU, because I would tell her that it was your fault alone."
Holmes barked a laugh and then went of to talk with the arriving police men.
+++
II.
"Let him go."
The words were cold, harsh and hard and the gun was steady. There was no hesitation in Holmes' eyes as he pointed the gun in my direction.
Holmes was a good shooter, but even he was not able to shoot the man as long as he held me directly in front of him. But my hands were tied and the knife was already deeply pressed into the flesh beneath my chin. I could not move without risking a deep gash which could kill me.
Holmes' mind already calculated that, but it did not change his decision about pointing his gun at us.
The knife moved a little, cutting deeper and I winced slightly, felt fresh blood dribbling down my throat. I saw the new calculations in Holmes' eyes and the slight adjustment of his stance.
"I said - let him go."
Holmes' voice was deep and sounded like a growl and I could feel the reaction in my captor's body, but he did not answer and his hold tightened.
"NOW!" Holmes shouted suddenly and the man behind me jumped, finally loosening his grip slightly. I wrenched my head away and Holmes shot instantly, hitting the man and he fell backwards. I took one step forward and looked over my shoulder to see the wound in the forehead.
"Well done, Watson!" Holmes cried enthusiastically, already cutting the rope around my hands. "You too, Holmes," I murmured, rubbing my wrists and turned my head slightly to check the wound. The cut was nothing serious, a little deep but not deep enough.
"You knew that there would be a possibility to shoot," I said and Holmes tilted his head slightly. "Of course, just a matter of the right provocation."
"And if that provocation made him slit my throat?" I asked and Holmes' eyes twinkled lightly.
"That's why I say - the right provocation."
+++
III.
The push wasn't strong, but I was surprised when my foot met air and I fell backwards into the Thames.
The water was cold and already filled my mouth before I could close it. It took me a few seconds to react and I took a deep lungful of air when my head broke the water. But brutal hands immediately pushed me down again and I started to struggle to free myself.
The cold water and the heavy soggy clothes slowed my movement and I was not able to put any strength into my arms. I managed once, twice to come back up for air, but I was always pushed under water again. My limbs started to hurt and my lungs were protesting the limited air supply.
All I could see through the dark and dirty water were glimpses of my attacker's face - the cruel gleam in his eyes and the sneer on his lips.
It felt like an eternity, but were only moments in reality, until my strength began to leave me and my movements grew slower and less. Another darkness besides the darkness of the water cramped my view and I did not even realise when the hands left me and I started slowly to sink.
Another hand - slim, pale and strong - shot into the water and gripped my jacket, pulling me back to the surface. I coughed harshly and breathed deeply, while Holmes pulled me back onto the platform and pounded my back.
"My goal was to catch a criminal not a Boswell," Holmes snickered and I looked at him crossly. "No-o-ot fu-u-u-unny-y-y, Ho-o-o-lme-e-es."
My reproach was ruined by the shattering of my teeth and Holmes took of his coat to throw it over my shoulders and rubbed my arms.
"Mrs. Hudson will be quite put off with you for falling into the Thames - again."
I groaned and he slapped me sympathetically on my back, but with a tiny smirk on his lips.
He deserved the splash of water into his face.
+++
IV.
Years of fellowship trained us to react without thinking about it.
The moment the shadows advanced Holmes and I already stood back to back, feet steady and fists balled. Our reaction surprised the thieves, but they did not pause and attacked us from both sides - three on Holmes' side and two on mine.
Most of my attention was on my two opponents, only a little part of my senses followed Holmes' progress. Even though it was two against five and the men were much younger than we were, we had no trouble to fight and hold them off.
I just knocked one man to the ground, when I heard a pained grunt and I turned my head to look what happened to Holmes. My other opponent took the chance and punched my cheek. My ears started to ring and I lost my balance, falling flat on my back and knocking the air from my lungs.
I shook my head and looked back up to see the man standing over me with my own cane raised over his head. I brought my arm up to shield my head, when Holmes tackled the man to the ground and my cane clattered to the ground.
A well aimed kick sent the last man running and Holmes turned to me, a split lip and a bruise forming above his brow and hold out his hand.
"Need a little help, old boy?"
I grunted, but took his offered hand and pulled myself back to my feet. "That's what happens when I worry too much about you."
"Oh really?" Holmes asked impishly. "Are you sure you are not just getting old?"
"I'll show you old," I growled and tried to grab him, but he already danced away and went to my cane with a merry 'Don't overexert yourself, old man' tossed over his shoulder.
Hadn't my cheek and old war wounds throbbed so painfully I would have tackled the smug bastard.
+++
V.
When the fire engulfed the whole room I vowed to always carry a lock pick in the future.
I tried again to loosen the handcuffs, sweat rolling over my face and my lungs hurting from the hot air and looked around for anything which might help me. But there was nothing in reach and the handcuffs would not open. There was also no way that I could break the pipe I was attached to.
More smoke filled the room and I coughed harshly, muffling them against my shoulder in hope to breath less smoky air.
I heard loud voices outside, but had no strength to call for help and no one knew that I was held captive in here. And even if someone knew I were here, no one was able to get inside.
The room was on the second floor and the house was torched on the first which had to be completely burning already. I slowed my breathing and sat back against the wall, recognizing that there was nothing I could do and that I had no other chances to escape.
I closed my eyes when they started to water and I felt how the flames grew nearer and almost licked at my limbs. I never thought that I would be burned alive; I always thought that if I were to be killed it would be through a bullet. But I already learned early on that never anything goes as you thought.
"Mrs. Hudson will be really angry about all those stains."
I looked up in surprise at Holmes who knelt down at my side and started to work on the cuffs. "Ho'mes?" I murmured, coughing and Holmes spared me a reproachful look. "Really, Watson, did you really think that I would fall into that most obvious trap? I am disappointed."
The cuffs fell to the ground and Holmes pulled me up, wrapping my arm around his sinewy shoulders and wrapped his own arm around my waist. We stumbled through the blazing house, his grip steady and strong and fell to our knees outside.
I breathed deeply, the cold night air a precious gift to my lungs. I turned my head to look at Holmes.
"For Christmas I wish my own set of lock picks."
Holmes blinked surprised, barked a sharp laugh and nudged my shoulder. "I am not sure that Father Christmas supports burglary skills, my dear Watson. But I think I have some to spare somewhere."
+++
VI.
The winter was strong and brutal and a lot of people became sick. Holmes worked on several cases and did not need my help, so I had volunteered at a local hospital to help.
The days were long and strenuous and I thought nothing about the headaches or the chills, it was quite cold after all. I did not think twice about the few hours of sleep I was only able to get and I always promised Mrs. Hudson to eat something in the hospital, but always forget to.
It was stupid, really and careless, but I cared more about helping the many sick people; the poor children and young men and women not strong enough to survive the cruel season than to think about myself.
And Holmes was rarely at home, so he was not able to observe anything.
It was pouring freezing rain, as it was cold but not cold enough for snow, when I returned one evening, my limbs heavy and my head pounding. No carriages were available and I was too tired to think about the consequences of walking home in such a foul weather.
When I reached Baker Street I was drenched to the bones, I wasn't even able to feel the cold anymore. I stumbled up the stairs, a low cough rumbled through my chest and it took me a long time to reach the first floor.
I bent over to catch my breath, my body shook and a puddle of cold water formed beneath my feet.
"Watson?"
I looked up and saw Holmes in the door of the living room, his pipe hanging loosely in his hand and his mouth slightly open in shock. I saw the reflection of his observation and conclusions in his eyes and the moment they started to fill with fear and panic was the moment when I realised that not all was as good as I thought.
I did not even realize when my knees buckled and I started to fall. I never felt the arms that caught me.
Only darkness consumed me.
~~~~~~~
Days went by, days I was not able to remember clearly. Only vague impressions of a low voice, of gentle hands and a worried face with eyes full of emotions I have never seen in such eyes before accompanied me in those long hours of fever and pain.
I do not know how much time passed until I woke in the middle of the night, able to recognize the blurry ceiling of Holmes' bedroom and not feeling like my head would explode.
I blinked tiredly and then turned my head to the side to see Holmes asleep in a chair beside the bed, a small candle illuminating his haggard features. Stubbles decorated his thin face, dark circles were beneath his eyes and his normally groomed hair was greasy and in disarray.
A basin of water, towels and a cold dish of broth were enough evidence of his careful vigils.
I swallowed and licked my dry lips, wishing I could let him sleep but knowing that would be the wrong decision. "H'mes?"
Holmes startled awake and looked to me, seeing me awake and silent hope entered his eyes. "Watson?"
"You look dreadful, my friend," I murmured and Holmes grinned shortly, before taking a glass full of water and sitting down on my bedside. Gently he raised my head and brought the glass to my lips. "Slow sips, doctor," he murmured lowly and I drank happily the cool liquid.
Then he laid me back, but stayed at my side and observed me thoroughly. I returned his gaze, waiting for his conclusion and willing to trust his judgement.
Finally he sighed deeply and lowered his head for a moment, ran one hand over his face. "Thank god..."
I blinked bemused, surprised my such deep emotion and slowly freed one hand to grasp his cold one. "My dear friend, what is it?"
"Do you know what a fool you were?" Holmes admonished harshly and looked at me with blazing eyes. "How could you be so foolish as to not take any care of yourself?! Not to sleep, not to eat and then walk through this weather?! You almost killed yourself!"
I sighed and guilt began to eat at my soul. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, the tiredness in his body and to hear the fear in his voice. "I am sorry, Holmes. It wasn't my attention to harm you."
"Harm ME?" Holmes chuckled hoarsely and it was such a strange and harsh sound that I cringed. "You fought for your life the last several days, every breath strenuous and hurtful. Fever raged through your body, stealing any strength so you were limp and weak. There were times when I thought I heard your last breath and when I looked into your eyes I could see death staring back at me.
And you apologize for harming me?"
He jumped from the bed, stalked the room from one end to the other and carded through his hair, stressing the urgency and wildness in his eyes. I was surprised of the force of my sickness, but more so by his reaction.
"Why are you so upset? It isn't the first time that I am hurt or something of the kind." I clearly remembered the last times when I was near death's door, when a bullet grazed my cheek or a knife almost slashed my throat. Such situations were much more frightening in my opinion than an illness.
Holmes stopped his wandering, his arms hanging loosely at his side. His shoulders sagged as if the whole world lasted on them. Finally he turned and looked at me with such an expression of lost and pain that it took my breath away.
"No, but normally I am able to do something. I am always able to protect you. I can't fight this... I can do nothing than watch you suffer. I can kill the men who tried to hurt you, I can hunt them around the whole world to find you. There is never a situation were I am not able to calculate the risks to you and to do anything in my might to protect you. But this...
I did not even notice how ill you became, hadn't I been already home and heard how you struggled up the stairs I would have never noticed anything amiss. Imagine what would have happened if I returned the next morning and you collapsed alone. And I was totally helpless the last few days, I could do nothing against the fever, the pain, your laboured breathing. I could just sit at your side and watch.
I can safe your life in the darkest streets of London, but I can only watch you die in our own home!"
He breathed shakily, his whole body slumped and I could feel the tears threatening to flow over. I never thought about his odd behaviour in life threatening situations, always thought that he was reckless and ignored the danger. In reality he was aware of them, calculated them and made preparations to make sure I was safe and protected.
Minor wounds, calculated and accepted, were frightening, but they were never as terrifying like an invisible enemy you can not see, can not estimate and can not fight.
There was a difference of fear and for a man like Holmes who always tried to be in control - this fear was the cruellest of all.
"I am so sorry, my dear Holmes," I said with a thick voice. "It was never my intention to pain you so."
He rubbed his face again and shook his head, returned to the bed and sat down again beside me. "The fault is my own, it is my responsibility to take more care of you. I am after all lost without you."
I smiled tiredly, watched as he took a cloth from the basin and gently mopped my brow. "There is one point were you erred, old boy, " I said and Holmes blinked surprised. "Enlighten me, Watson."
My eyes drifted close, but not before I saw the love resurrect at my words and banish the haunting fear from his eyes.
"You safe my life in every moment that you stay with me and that is all the protection that I need."
I am lazy, so I just copy the post from there. XD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Difference of Fear
Author: alaylith
Rating: K+
Universe: bookverse
Word Count: 3.165
Warnings: blood, minor injuries
Summary: 5x Holmes was able to protect Watson and 1x he wasn’t.
A/N: Yay, I wrote something again! Atm I am totally stressed out with school and have no time for anything, but just as the extension of the challenge was posted I got an idea and managed to write it! And thanks to kcs for the extra day, I wasn’t able to finish yesterday. ._.
And this story got two firsts for me:
1. I wrote for the first time a 5x + 1x story! :) It was really fun to write 6 different little stories, which all orbit the same subject. Have to do that again! ^^
2. I wrote for the first time drabble-like stories. All my stories were always “full” stories, from beginning to end (one reason why I don’t finish most of them). I’ve never written just a little part of a story, just starting somewhere in the middle.
It’s weird, I like to read such stories (even though I very often wish for a longer story), but I just could never write one myself. I always want to include all details - it’s weird to start in the “middle”.
So I am not sure if I did it right, please tell me if there should be a bit more information or if it is okay or if I already wrote too much sometimes.
As I said, it’s just weird to start in the middle. oO
Now I hope you like the story (stories) - was awesome to write something again. ^_^
I.
I could hear my own heartbeat in the silence of the night as I was prowling through the warehouse.
Looking around a crate I tried to see any movement in the darkness, but neither Holmes nor the murderer we were hunting were visible.
Our prey fled into the darkened warehouse and Holmes thought it best if we separate and search for him.
So far I had not found him; I was not even able to hear anything. Nothing than my own low breathing and my rapid beating heart.
I watched the passageway for a few more seconds, before slowly stepping into it. My gun was cold and heavy in my hand, always pointed ahead and my steps were silent.
There was nothing - no sound, no movement - but the hair on my neck rose and I knew that he was right behind me. I whirled around, raised my gun, but in that second I already saw the gun in his hands, directly pointed at me and the little light showed me the smug smile on his lips.
At the same time that I heard the shot I saw how Holmes jumped the gunman and in the same instant I could feel the burn on my cheek.
Reflexively I closed one eye and took a step backwards, but my medical mind already recognized the shallow cut and the little blood that flowed to my chin.
Unconcerned I watched Holmes shackling our murderer and then blowing his police whistle, before he turned to me and gifted me with a glowing, satisfied grin.
"You were following him already, weren't you?" I growled slightly, but not really angry with him. I knew my Holmes after all. "The 'let us look for him separately' was just your way of saying 'go on and play the bait'".
Holmes waved my comment away and then took a handkerchief from his pocket. "Here, before you bloody your collar. Mrs. Hudson would not be happy with us."
I frowned for a moment longer at him, before sighing and taking the cloth to stench the blood. "She would not be happy with YOU, because I would tell her that it was your fault alone."
Holmes barked a laugh and then went of to talk with the arriving police men.
+++
II.
"Let him go."
The words were cold, harsh and hard and the gun was steady. There was no hesitation in Holmes' eyes as he pointed the gun in my direction.
Holmes was a good shooter, but even he was not able to shoot the man as long as he held me directly in front of him. But my hands were tied and the knife was already deeply pressed into the flesh beneath my chin. I could not move without risking a deep gash which could kill me.
Holmes' mind already calculated that, but it did not change his decision about pointing his gun at us.
The knife moved a little, cutting deeper and I winced slightly, felt fresh blood dribbling down my throat. I saw the new calculations in Holmes' eyes and the slight adjustment of his stance.
"I said - let him go."
Holmes' voice was deep and sounded like a growl and I could feel the reaction in my captor's body, but he did not answer and his hold tightened.
"NOW!" Holmes shouted suddenly and the man behind me jumped, finally loosening his grip slightly. I wrenched my head away and Holmes shot instantly, hitting the man and he fell backwards. I took one step forward and looked over my shoulder to see the wound in the forehead.
"Well done, Watson!" Holmes cried enthusiastically, already cutting the rope around my hands. "You too, Holmes," I murmured, rubbing my wrists and turned my head slightly to check the wound. The cut was nothing serious, a little deep but not deep enough.
"You knew that there would be a possibility to shoot," I said and Holmes tilted his head slightly. "Of course, just a matter of the right provocation."
"And if that provocation made him slit my throat?" I asked and Holmes' eyes twinkled lightly.
"That's why I say - the right provocation."
+++
III.
The push wasn't strong, but I was surprised when my foot met air and I fell backwards into the Thames.
The water was cold and already filled my mouth before I could close it. It took me a few seconds to react and I took a deep lungful of air when my head broke the water. But brutal hands immediately pushed me down again and I started to struggle to free myself.
The cold water and the heavy soggy clothes slowed my movement and I was not able to put any strength into my arms. I managed once, twice to come back up for air, but I was always pushed under water again. My limbs started to hurt and my lungs were protesting the limited air supply.
All I could see through the dark and dirty water were glimpses of my attacker's face - the cruel gleam in his eyes and the sneer on his lips.
It felt like an eternity, but were only moments in reality, until my strength began to leave me and my movements grew slower and less. Another darkness besides the darkness of the water cramped my view and I did not even realise when the hands left me and I started slowly to sink.
Another hand - slim, pale and strong - shot into the water and gripped my jacket, pulling me back to the surface. I coughed harshly and breathed deeply, while Holmes pulled me back onto the platform and pounded my back.
"My goal was to catch a criminal not a Boswell," Holmes snickered and I looked at him crossly. "No-o-ot fu-u-u-unny-y-y, Ho-o-o-lme-e-es."
My reproach was ruined by the shattering of my teeth and Holmes took of his coat to throw it over my shoulders and rubbed my arms.
"Mrs. Hudson will be quite put off with you for falling into the Thames - again."
I groaned and he slapped me sympathetically on my back, but with a tiny smirk on his lips.
He deserved the splash of water into his face.
+++
IV.
Years of fellowship trained us to react without thinking about it.
The moment the shadows advanced Holmes and I already stood back to back, feet steady and fists balled. Our reaction surprised the thieves, but they did not pause and attacked us from both sides - three on Holmes' side and two on mine.
Most of my attention was on my two opponents, only a little part of my senses followed Holmes' progress. Even though it was two against five and the men were much younger than we were, we had no trouble to fight and hold them off.
I just knocked one man to the ground, when I heard a pained grunt and I turned my head to look what happened to Holmes. My other opponent took the chance and punched my cheek. My ears started to ring and I lost my balance, falling flat on my back and knocking the air from my lungs.
I shook my head and looked back up to see the man standing over me with my own cane raised over his head. I brought my arm up to shield my head, when Holmes tackled the man to the ground and my cane clattered to the ground.
A well aimed kick sent the last man running and Holmes turned to me, a split lip and a bruise forming above his brow and hold out his hand.
"Need a little help, old boy?"
I grunted, but took his offered hand and pulled myself back to my feet. "That's what happens when I worry too much about you."
"Oh really?" Holmes asked impishly. "Are you sure you are not just getting old?"
"I'll show you old," I growled and tried to grab him, but he already danced away and went to my cane with a merry 'Don't overexert yourself, old man' tossed over his shoulder.
Hadn't my cheek and old war wounds throbbed so painfully I would have tackled the smug bastard.
+++
V.
When the fire engulfed the whole room I vowed to always carry a lock pick in the future.
I tried again to loosen the handcuffs, sweat rolling over my face and my lungs hurting from the hot air and looked around for anything which might help me. But there was nothing in reach and the handcuffs would not open. There was also no way that I could break the pipe I was attached to.
More smoke filled the room and I coughed harshly, muffling them against my shoulder in hope to breath less smoky air.
I heard loud voices outside, but had no strength to call for help and no one knew that I was held captive in here. And even if someone knew I were here, no one was able to get inside.
The room was on the second floor and the house was torched on the first which had to be completely burning already. I slowed my breathing and sat back against the wall, recognizing that there was nothing I could do and that I had no other chances to escape.
I closed my eyes when they started to water and I felt how the flames grew nearer and almost licked at my limbs. I never thought that I would be burned alive; I always thought that if I were to be killed it would be through a bullet. But I already learned early on that never anything goes as you thought.
"Mrs. Hudson will be really angry about all those stains."
I looked up in surprise at Holmes who knelt down at my side and started to work on the cuffs. "Ho'mes?" I murmured, coughing and Holmes spared me a reproachful look. "Really, Watson, did you really think that I would fall into that most obvious trap? I am disappointed."
The cuffs fell to the ground and Holmes pulled me up, wrapping my arm around his sinewy shoulders and wrapped his own arm around my waist. We stumbled through the blazing house, his grip steady and strong and fell to our knees outside.
I breathed deeply, the cold night air a precious gift to my lungs. I turned my head to look at Holmes.
"For Christmas I wish my own set of lock picks."
Holmes blinked surprised, barked a sharp laugh and nudged my shoulder. "I am not sure that Father Christmas supports burglary skills, my dear Watson. But I think I have some to spare somewhere."
+++
VI.
The winter was strong and brutal and a lot of people became sick. Holmes worked on several cases and did not need my help, so I had volunteered at a local hospital to help.
The days were long and strenuous and I thought nothing about the headaches or the chills, it was quite cold after all. I did not think twice about the few hours of sleep I was only able to get and I always promised Mrs. Hudson to eat something in the hospital, but always forget to.
It was stupid, really and careless, but I cared more about helping the many sick people; the poor children and young men and women not strong enough to survive the cruel season than to think about myself.
And Holmes was rarely at home, so he was not able to observe anything.
It was pouring freezing rain, as it was cold but not cold enough for snow, when I returned one evening, my limbs heavy and my head pounding. No carriages were available and I was too tired to think about the consequences of walking home in such a foul weather.
When I reached Baker Street I was drenched to the bones, I wasn't even able to feel the cold anymore. I stumbled up the stairs, a low cough rumbled through my chest and it took me a long time to reach the first floor.
I bent over to catch my breath, my body shook and a puddle of cold water formed beneath my feet.
"Watson?"
I looked up and saw Holmes in the door of the living room, his pipe hanging loosely in his hand and his mouth slightly open in shock. I saw the reflection of his observation and conclusions in his eyes and the moment they started to fill with fear and panic was the moment when I realised that not all was as good as I thought.
I did not even realize when my knees buckled and I started to fall. I never felt the arms that caught me.
Only darkness consumed me.
~~~~~~~
Days went by, days I was not able to remember clearly. Only vague impressions of a low voice, of gentle hands and a worried face with eyes full of emotions I have never seen in such eyes before accompanied me in those long hours of fever and pain.
I do not know how much time passed until I woke in the middle of the night, able to recognize the blurry ceiling of Holmes' bedroom and not feeling like my head would explode.
I blinked tiredly and then turned my head to the side to see Holmes asleep in a chair beside the bed, a small candle illuminating his haggard features. Stubbles decorated his thin face, dark circles were beneath his eyes and his normally groomed hair was greasy and in disarray.
A basin of water, towels and a cold dish of broth were enough evidence of his careful vigils.
I swallowed and licked my dry lips, wishing I could let him sleep but knowing that would be the wrong decision. "H'mes?"
Holmes startled awake and looked to me, seeing me awake and silent hope entered his eyes. "Watson?"
"You look dreadful, my friend," I murmured and Holmes grinned shortly, before taking a glass full of water and sitting down on my bedside. Gently he raised my head and brought the glass to my lips. "Slow sips, doctor," he murmured lowly and I drank happily the cool liquid.
Then he laid me back, but stayed at my side and observed me thoroughly. I returned his gaze, waiting for his conclusion and willing to trust his judgement.
Finally he sighed deeply and lowered his head for a moment, ran one hand over his face. "Thank god..."
I blinked bemused, surprised my such deep emotion and slowly freed one hand to grasp his cold one. "My dear friend, what is it?"
"Do you know what a fool you were?" Holmes admonished harshly and looked at me with blazing eyes. "How could you be so foolish as to not take any care of yourself?! Not to sleep, not to eat and then walk through this weather?! You almost killed yourself!"
I sighed and guilt began to eat at my soul. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, the tiredness in his body and to hear the fear in his voice. "I am sorry, Holmes. It wasn't my attention to harm you."
"Harm ME?" Holmes chuckled hoarsely and it was such a strange and harsh sound that I cringed. "You fought for your life the last several days, every breath strenuous and hurtful. Fever raged through your body, stealing any strength so you were limp and weak. There were times when I thought I heard your last breath and when I looked into your eyes I could see death staring back at me.
And you apologize for harming me?"
He jumped from the bed, stalked the room from one end to the other and carded through his hair, stressing the urgency and wildness in his eyes. I was surprised of the force of my sickness, but more so by his reaction.
"Why are you so upset? It isn't the first time that I am hurt or something of the kind." I clearly remembered the last times when I was near death's door, when a bullet grazed my cheek or a knife almost slashed my throat. Such situations were much more frightening in my opinion than an illness.
Holmes stopped his wandering, his arms hanging loosely at his side. His shoulders sagged as if the whole world lasted on them. Finally he turned and looked at me with such an expression of lost and pain that it took my breath away.
"No, but normally I am able to do something. I am always able to protect you. I can't fight this... I can do nothing than watch you suffer. I can kill the men who tried to hurt you, I can hunt them around the whole world to find you. There is never a situation were I am not able to calculate the risks to you and to do anything in my might to protect you. But this...
I did not even notice how ill you became, hadn't I been already home and heard how you struggled up the stairs I would have never noticed anything amiss. Imagine what would have happened if I returned the next morning and you collapsed alone. And I was totally helpless the last few days, I could do nothing against the fever, the pain, your laboured breathing. I could just sit at your side and watch.
I can safe your life in the darkest streets of London, but I can only watch you die in our own home!"
He breathed shakily, his whole body slumped and I could feel the tears threatening to flow over. I never thought about his odd behaviour in life threatening situations, always thought that he was reckless and ignored the danger. In reality he was aware of them, calculated them and made preparations to make sure I was safe and protected.
Minor wounds, calculated and accepted, were frightening, but they were never as terrifying like an invisible enemy you can not see, can not estimate and can not fight.
There was a difference of fear and for a man like Holmes who always tried to be in control - this fear was the cruellest of all.
"I am so sorry, my dear Holmes," I said with a thick voice. "It was never my intention to pain you so."
He rubbed his face again and shook his head, returned to the bed and sat down again beside me. "The fault is my own, it is my responsibility to take more care of you. I am after all lost without you."
I smiled tiredly, watched as he took a cloth from the basin and gently mopped my brow. "There is one point were you erred, old boy, " I said and Holmes blinked surprised. "Enlighten me, Watson."
My eyes drifted close, but not before I saw the love resurrect at my words and banish the haunting fear from his eyes.
"You safe my life in every moment that you stay with me and that is all the protection that I need."