The clock has just chimed the quarter to one and the doctor is beginning to stir on his couch. I am moving to to stand in an instant. Is he awake, or just moving? He sneezes twice and moans, rubbing at his eyes as he attempts to sit up without hurting his sores and injuries.

"Holmes?"

His voice is still very quiet. He still sounds more like a frog than a man, in spite of the painful raspiness that I can plainly hear. His voice has a slight gurgling to it, now, like he's trying to talk underwater.

"I told him to rest, Doctor," I explain to him softly, making my way to his side as quietly as I can. "I thought you would find it easier to rest if you knew that he was looking after himself."

He sniffs and nods. "Thank you. Holmes is usually in my line of sight... I feared for him."

It takes a moment for me to realise that Doctor Watson means to say that our mutual friend would usually stay at his side, if he had been hurt — unless something had happened to keep Mr. Holmes from being there. I deflate slightly, realising that I have caused distress by interfering.

"Yes. That should have occurred to me. Try not to worry about our friend, Doctor. He is safe — just tired out."

"Thank you. For making him rest."

I smirk, amused. "I don't know about 'making him', Doctor; I don't know if you can make him do anything. But I did persuade him. Well, now you know Mr. Holmes is all right, can you tell me how you are?"

He shrugs one shoulder.

"Would you like a drink?"

He grimaces. "I would, but I think I should like to... move, first."

There is a cane within easy reach. I take it and hand it to him before I help him to stand and offer him my shoulder for extra support. He is weaker than I ever remember seeing him and his hands are both too cold and too warm. I walk him as far as the lavatory door and then stand outside awkwardly, not knowing what I should do. The doctor will want privacy, but I feel better knowing that I am close enough to hand to give help should he need it.

He does not take long. Once the plumbing starts to make its noises, I tap on the door and ask if he wants any help.

"Do not trouble yourself."

"Doctor Watson, I've already told you that it's no trouble. I want to help, if you need it — if you'll allow me to."

"Thank you. I can manage."

Well, I tried. At least I've let him know that I am prepared to help. But... well... I do understand him. Under the circumstances, I would want to be left alone, myself.

When he emerges, I ask if there is anything that he might want.

"Tea, please. Not too sweet, with plenty of milk. The milk will do me good."

I nod and ring for tea.

"Would you like biscuits, Doctor? You could dip them in the tea, if it might make them easier for you to eat."

I open the tin which has been left on the coffee table. They must have been put there last night. Did I remember to tell Mrs. Hudson that they were in my coat pocket, or did she or one of the servants find it?

"Let me see... there are ginger biscuits, butter biscuits, cinnamon biscuits..."

"I am not feeling very hungry."

I turn to frown at him. "You need to eat something — even if you just eat a biscuit or some toast..."

He nods and screws his eyes shut, hastily covering his face with the handkerchief I gave him earlier before pitching forward.

"Bless you, Doctor! And save you and bless you again."

He sniffs and quietly blows his nose, muttering something about not wanting to wake Mr. Holmes.

"You take care of yourself and I'll look after Mr. Holmes. I think that's a fair bargain, don't you?"

He nods again, dislodging another sneeze.

"Bless you." I think I am going to find myself repeating that phrase rather frequently today. "Here, would you like some fruit?"

He pales slightly and shakes his head as I show him the contents of the fruit bowl.

"Doctor...? I've heard an apple a day will keep the doctor away, but I've never seen a reaction like that before! Would you tell me what's wrong?"

"He brought me fruit. A furry orange and a brown, almost liquid banana. And a very bruised and dirty apple. Please... no fruit. Not yet. Please!"

I hope to goodness he didn't eat any of that rubbish! A stomach upset on top of everything else would be awful!

"Very nice. I'll have to see that we show him the same hospitality. Did he give you any grapes to try? Good! That's a blessing. Here, try one. I know they're delicious because I've been picking at them, myself."

He chews delicately and swallows the fruit before answering. "They are very good."

"They are. Grapes are good. Here, have a small bunch, Doctor. And here's Mrs. Hudson with the tea — I'll just get the door."

I'm starting to think I might need to wake Mr. Holmes, but I would rather let him sleep. What should I do?