It was winter in London, the streets were slicked with ice and people walked by in hurry to get to their destination as quickly as they could. The wind blew unforgiving on Sherlock as he walked down the street, the case he had been working on had been brutal. He had not slept in days trying to piece the facts together.

The man he had found in the market was killing people and then stealing their life insurance funds away from their loved ones by posing as a lawyer. It was a dull motive but Lestrade had been insistent for his help.

He had been going to contact Lestrade but he already gotten too ahead of himself and encountered the man when he followed him down an alleyway.

"I know you're following me Mr. Holmes." The man said, he was wearing a nice suit and overcoat and looked quite well off. Probably from all the money he was stealing.

Sherlock was surprised the man knew who he was and it must have shown on his face because the man smirked. "I follow Scotland Yard's cases, though I have no reason to be persecuted I have done nothing illegal." He said with a grin.

"That's not for me to decide, you can come in and plead your case to the judge Mr. Cane." Sherlock said glancing at all the ways someone could escape the one way alley.

The fist came at Sherlock's face fast but he caught it and tried to kicked the man in the leg but it did not bring him down. They went back and forth for a while before Sherlock felt the ground slip under him when he stepped on black ice giving the man the opportunity to punch him in the gut knocking the air out of him. Sherlock gasped trying to quickly pull himself back up but felt the suspect kick him hard in the side. That was not enough to take him down, Sherlock grabbed the man's pant leg digging his nails into the man's calf making the killer shout and kick before Sherlock was grabbed by his coat and slammed into the brick wall behind him.

"That's enough from you!" He hissed. Sherlock saw a flash of a gun and grabbed the man's arm before he could aim at Sherlock's face. The bang of the gun went off anyway and Sherlock felt a stabbing pain go though his middle making him collapse to the ground clutching his side tightly. Holmes saw the man walk quickly away, down the alley to the back entrance.

"Damn!" Sherlock cursed pulling himself to his feet with the support of the wall. He stumbled along as quickly as he could ignoring the blood leaving a trail behind him. The detective had seen the man go around the corner but after that he was lost, then he remembered that the suspect was staying in an inn along the Thames which was close by.

By the time he got to the inn it was growing dark, his wound was bothering him and so was the cold. The innkeeper looked at him in disgust at his haggard appearance. "I'm looking for a Mr. Cane he's a tenant here, please telegram Scotland Yard to come, he's wanted for several murders." Sherlock said quickly. The innkeeper paled and hurried away. Sherlock heard a door slam in the back and he saw a figure running.

Sherlock followed him out the back, he saw Cane running toward the water probably going to catch a boat. Sherlock tacked the man to the ground only to be flipped on to his back making him cry out in pain at his injury being hit, he tried to stab the man with his knife but only nicked him in the arm. They got to their feet but Sherlock felt hands grab his neck roughly choking him as he was dragged to the edge of the wall with the river rushing underneath. Seeing he was going to shoved in Sherlock wrapped his legs around the man's and took him down as well.

Sherlock gasped as they hit the icy water his clothes making him heavier, Cane was pushing him under using Sherlock's body to stay above the water. Sherlock was weak from his wound, water was getting in his mouth as he forced his head above the water to choke out the water gasping for air.

At least Cane could no longer use his gun since it was wet, Cane had begun to swim to shore and Sherlock tried to follow but he was breathing too hard his body was numb from the icy river and could barely feel his legs.

Then he heard shouting and saw the police up at the top of the wall, Sherlock smiled weakly seeing Lestrade. They came down the stairs and Sherlock watched as they pulled Cane out of the water and into handcuffs. Sherlock was starting to loose consciousness from the cold, that made him panic splashing as he fought to stay above the water. Exhaustion took over in less than a minute feeling the water go over his head and into his nose and mouth as he sank toward the bottom of the river.

Lestrade saw Sherlock go down, "Damn it, someone get him!" He shouted, all the officers looked nervous. Not wanting to go for a swim in January.

Clark volunteered to Lestrade's relief as the man pulled off his boots and coat before diving down to retrieve Sherlock.

It was hard to see in the murky river, Clark felt around finally feeling a coat and Sherlock's hair in his face as he swam down. He wrapped his strong arms around the man's middle and swam up as fast as he could breaking the surface breathing heavily. Sherlock was dead weight in his arms it seemed like the man had lost consciousness.

Once he got to the edge some men took Sherlock pulling him to the shore then helped him out as well. Lestrade was over his friend immediately, Sherlock was soaked through looking like a wet rat. He put a hand in front of his nose not feeling any air.

"Damn he's not breathing!" Lestrade cursed. He used his fists to push against the man's chest and turned him over on his side slapping his back hard when that did not work.

After about a minute Sherlock began choking up mouthfuls of water to the inspector's relief. "Easy Sherlock, just breathe." He said gently. Sherlock was gasping for air and still coughing up water, eyes red rimmed and Lestrade could feel the man trembling badly. He was very pale bordering on gray, what worried the man the most was Sherlock was not speaking.

Holmes' eyes were open halfway seemingly lost in his head. Lestrade patted his cheek, "Sherlock, come on lets get you to a doctor." He said but there was no reaction to his voice.

He had a few officers carry Holmes up to the carriage and ordered the driver to Watson's practice. While sitting in the carriage Lestrade pulled off Sherlock's water logged coat and discovered his shirt was soaked in blood on his mid section. "Damn!" He cursed trying to put pressure on the wound with the man's scarf. Sherlock whimpered in pain at the pressure, his teeth were chattering from the cold.

When they arrived at Watson's home office he had the driver knock on the door, Watson answered only wearing his shirt and trousers, he had already retired for the evening.

He saw Lestrade get out of the carriage, "Inspector, how can I help you this evening?" He asked shutting the door so not to let the cold in the heated house.

Lestrade nodded back at the carriage, "I have Sherlock with me, he's in a bad way. Went down in the river fighting with a suspect."

"Damn! In this weather?" Watson said, as he rubbed his shoulders to keep warm without his coat on. He quickly made his way to the carriage opening the door and climbing in. John found Sherlock laid across the leather seat whimpering softly in pain, he was holding his scarf to his abdomen which John saw was stained with blood along with his shirt. When he touched the man's face he was shocked at the icy wetness, Sherlock was nearly blue with cold. His pulse was slow and the breathing shallow he checked quickly before getting Lestrade and the driver to help him carry Sherlock to his exam room.

Holmes was dead weight in their arms and he barely made a sound which only concerned the man more.

Setting Holmes on the exam table John began to quickly undress the man, Mary entered the room hearing all the commotion.

"John?" She asked seeing all the people in his office. "Oh my, is that Mr. Holmes?" She asked.

John looked over at his wife with a grim smile. "Yes, can you please get some hot water and lots of blankets and make some tea, his temperature is way too low." John said quickly.

"Of course, how did this happen?" She asked in shock.

"Fell in the river and I see he was shot as well." John said as he carefully looked under the scarf covering the bullet wound.

Mary had left to retrieve the supplies. "Doctor is there anything I can do to help?" The inspector asked.

"Yes, can you dry him?" John asked nodding to the towels sitting on the shelf. Lestrade obliged as he carefully dried the man who was now naked under the sheet John had placed over his lower half to keep his dignity.

John turned the nearly unconscious man on his side and to his shock had seen the bullet had gone through and through. The bruising around it showed that it was shot at a very close range.

"He was shot at close range, I would say maybe a foot or two." John said as he began cleaning the wound. Thankfully it had not hit anything vital, John stitched the wound after stopping any internal bleeding.

He was finishing up when Mary returned with the blankets and warm clothes for Sherlock.

Sherlock had very little reaction to anything which was still very concerning to John as he pulled the long johns on Sherlock's lower half to keep his legs warm. Mary slid woolen stockings on his feet while John attended to the broken ribs and bruising that Sherlock had sustained. He wrapped the ribs snugly and felt around for more injuries but found only the superficial bruising which would still be very sore. Sherlock whimpered as he wrapped the ribs, his limp body leaning into Lestrade's chest while John bandaged him.

"You're alright Sherlock. Just relax." Watson said gently.

He pulled Sherlock's arms through the sleeves of the long johns noticing the man had lost more weight since the wedding as he buttoned it up seeing how the shirt hung off his thin frame.

John dressed Sherlock in an extra robe he had seeing it would be easier to open and check on the gunshot wound than if he was wearing a gown.

They placed Sherlock in the bed John had in the office, then wrapped him with the thick blankets Mary had brought.

Sherlock seemed to be breathing easier now to John's relief but the skin was still chilled, though not nearly as bad as he first arrived.

"Will he be alright Dr. Watson?" Lestrade asked as they watched the man sleep. "His wounds should not be a problem anymore but I'm still worried about his chill. He could become ill from being in the water even if it was only a few minutes."John replied.

Sherlock seemed to sleep soundly for the next few hours, John coming in to check on him constantly. He felt bad he had not been visiting Sherlock much since the wedding leaving the man on his own. From what Lestrade had told him Sherlock had been working more than ever, probably to distract himself from the loneliness.

John had fallen asleep late into the night, he was woken up by Mary. He sat up slowly seeing the sun shining through the cracks in the curtains.

"Mary, what time is it?" He asked drowsily. "Just after eight dear, I checked on Sherlock a few moments ago and he's quite feverish and coughing." She told her husband.

"Damn!" John muttered quickly getting out of bed and dressing himself causally.

He went down to Sherlock's bed finding his friend curled up under a blanket shivering violently. He pressed a hand to the man's forehead feeling intense heat.

"Sherlock, can you hear me? Its John." He said gently. Sherlock's eyes blinked open slightly they were foggy with fever and still red.

"Its cold John." Sherlock whimpered. "The water...too cold." John sighed, Sherlock was obviously delirious from the fever.

"Hush now, you need to rest, you're ill." John said as he gently rubbed Sherlock's shoulder. He pulled down the blanket and opened Sherlock's clothing to check the wounds which were not infected.

Sherlock had started coughing harshly after speaking, gasping for air while John gently massaged his chest. "Easy Holmes. Just breathe for me." John said gently seeing pained tears in his friend's eyes.

Sherlock's fever only worsened through the course of the day, John rarely left the man's side only to get something for Holmes. Sherlock's coughing got worse as well and John felt his stomach drop when he saw blood run down Sherlock's lips making John's fears of Sherlock catching pneumonia true.

He wiped the wet cloth over Sherlock's bloody mouth then he pet Sherlock's hair listening to the struggled breathing.

"John?" Sherlock moaned. "Yes Sherlock?" John answered.

"The water...cold had a gun...the insurance money gone." Sherlock mumbled in his delirium.

John stroked the sweat soaked hair, "I know, just sleep. Try not to talk." He said softly.

Watson continued caring for his friend hoping the fever would pass and Sherlock would make a full recovery.