This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Something I Need

© 2008 by the author (anonymous by request) in association with Daylor and Sheldon Publishing™

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Something I Need

"No, I'm all right," I coughed, sending him away with a wave of my hand. But he only moved as far as the door before pausing and coming back to my sickbed.

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes."

"But you do not look all right," was his response.

We had been having the same argument for a good fifteen minutes now and I was getting tired of it. But where Sherlock Holmes and I differed as individuals, was that I was willing to let him have his way. That and I was too weary to fight him anymore. Had our roles been reversed, he no doubt would have banished me from the room and not allowed admittance to anyone.

"Very well," I acquiesced with an exhausted sigh, and he immediately pulled a chair up to my bedside and sat himself in it. I looked up at him, and found him studying me in the way he would study a client; eyes darting around and taking in every detail. He finally stopped and rested his eyes upon my own, and I held his gaze for several long seconds before he turned away, apparently embarrassed.

"Well?" I began somewhat irately, "You're here, now what do you propose to do?"

I was not nearly as irritated as I pretended to be. After all, I knew he was simply worried for my health and wanted to keep me company, as well as maintain a cautious eye I expected. But since caring was not in the nature of Sherlock Holmes, I knew he suddenly found himself caught between logic and emotion and unsure what to make of the information both were sending him.

"So…what exactly ails you?" he said, showing me he was still at quite a loss.

"It is the rhinovirus or the common cold if you hadn't heard of that," I answered.

"Yes, I had heard of it," he said with some irritation. The mood was as catching as the virus apparently. "And…what are your symptoms?" This was getting ridiculous.

"Congestion, swelling of the lymph nodes, a bad cough, and I suspect a low fever, which will mean I have acquired another illness due to my weakened immune system, as a cold does not cause fever."

"Oh."

I pulled the quilts closer about me and tightened my coiled body beneath them. I hoped that would be the end of the questions and I could rest. However, at that moment Mrs. Hudson entered to provide her own brand of annoyance.

"Here you are Doctor, this will fix you up in no time!" She lifted the cover off of a steaming tray and Holmes wrinkled his nose and drew back at the sight of it. I was thankful that the illness had removed my ability to smell.

It was a bowl of soup. But what was in it I could not tell. I was not encouraged by the way Holmes backed away as she set the tray upon my nightstand.

"Now be sure to eat that, and here is some hot African tea for you with honey. You'll be right as rain in a matter of days."

"I'm sure I will be. Thank you Mrs. Hudson," I said as she left.

I curled my shivering body tighter under the blankets, and Holmes moved further toward the foot of my bed. Had I not been feeling so poorly, I'd have laughed.

Holmes was staring at the wall behind me, and I at him. We likely would have stayed like that if I hadn't suddenly sneezed, drawing his attention back to the present.

"Are you all right?"

"Quite," I mumbled through my handkerchief.

"Are you certain?"

"We've had this conversation Holmes," I glared at him through red-rimmed eyes. He looked at me intently for a moment before unexpectedly rising.

"Well, then I'll let you rest," he said despondently, starting for the door.

I relaxed into my pillow, relieved to have some peace. But as soon as he was out of my line of sight, a strange feeling of isolation hit me and I realized that something else was required for peace, mine and his.

"Wait!" I called him back, and he looked at me earnestly.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"Yes," I coughed. "Stay here." He looked confused, but immediately sat down in the chair he had vacated moments ago, watching me. I coughed a few more times, but kept my eyes on him. He looked worried.

"Watson…" he began, but stopped. I knew what he wanted to say.

"Thank you Holmes," I answered his unspoken words, and offered him the best smile I could muster. He looked surprised, but after a moment his eyes smiled in return.

And I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Author's note: Well, I'm sick. And this little something has been in my head the whole time. It's not much I know, especially as I just threw it onto paper before school. But it made me feel better to write it.

Thanks to my friends for 'staying at my bedside.' That's all I need ;-)