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Even out of the swamp and away from strange rituals, Holmes could scarcely think. The chanting echoed through his mind, inescapable, as if it was trying to call him back.
What were those words? Free my festering soul…
“Holmes?” Watson’s steady hand touched his arm. “You look exhausted. Come on, let’s go to our room.”
“Our room?” Holmes asked vaguely. He tried to focus on Watson’s face, but it was awfully blurry. Everything was. “Yes, I should like that. Perhaps I’ll play my violin for a little.”
“I am afraid your violin is back in London. You said you wished to travel light.”
London? After a few quick blinks to clear his vision somewhat, Holmes looked around again. He and Watson stood on the deck of their boat, sailing out of the port of New Orleans. “Ah, yes. Of course it’s back in London. What I meant was…”
His head spun, and his legs buckled. Gasping, he clutched at Watson’s arm for support.
“My God, Sherlock, you’re absolutely done in! I told you that we ought to have rested when we first got here.” Holding onto him, Watson coaxed him into motion. “Come along, now. I know you do not wish to rest until this investigation is done, but you cannot keep pushing yourself like this.”
“Yes. You’re quite right.” His ordinary method of scarcely eating or sleeping while on a case seemed not enough to cope with this particular situation. Perhaps it was the effect of grappling with… with…
What were these forces that they grappled with? Surely not of this world. Even the slipping of his mind was not enough to account for all they had seen, was it?
“Sleep and food is most important, but I think we should at least change into clean shirts. Our local friends were kind enough to retrieve our luggage and have it washed while we braved the swamp,” Watson said. Holmes struggled to listen. “It’ll be good to get the blood off of you.”
“I should like to be cleaner, yes.” It was becoming difficult to talk, the words thick on his tongue, and he could not tell whether that was the effect of fatigue, his clarity slipping, or some after effect of those forces they had encountered. “In truth, I should like a bath, but I fear I lack the energy for one.”
“I must concur with you there.” Giving him a worried look, Watson drew him into their room aboard ship and eased him down to one of the bunks. “If you don’t mind me speaking as a doctor in addition to your companion, I am quite concerned about your condition. You’re in awful shape, Holmes.”
Tears stung Holmes’ eyes, and he attempted not to let them fall. That would be terribly embarrassing. He had already embarrassed himself enough of late, babbling incoherently, rushing into danger, very nearly letting himself be killed…
“I do not believe I properly thanked you, John,” he said vaguely as Watson helped him out of his jacket. “You saved my life by shooting that man. You see, you are very brave after all.”
“Well, it had to be done.” Watson’s hands trembled as he fumbled with Holmes’ waistcoat buttons. “I do not regret it at all. But I am worried.”
“Because I did not defend myself?”
“You did not react at all until I fired! I called to you several times, but…” A shudder went through Watson, and he glanced up from his task. The fear on his face broke Holmes’s heart. “You were so transfixed by that corpse. I do not understand what is happening.”
“I fear I am not quite myself.” That was something of an understatement.
“That is not what I mean.” Gently, Watson undid the last button and helped Holmes out of the waistcoat, then stood. He was back in a moment with a bowl of water and a white towel. “I saw many things in war, but nothing like this. These dark forces horrify me in a way that nothing else ever has.”
Holmes nodded, then closed his eyes as Watson began to bathe his face. The water was not cool, but even the tepid damp was somewhat refreshing. “It is unlike anything I have seen either. And it wearies me in an entirely different way than any other case. You are quite right that I am exhausted, John. I feel as if I have no strength left.”
Carefully, Watson sponged away the sweat and grime on Holmes’ cheek, ending in a light swipe down to his jaw. “I suspect that you have more strength than any other man I have ever known.”
“Hm. Well, we shall see about that.” Keeping his eyes closed was hardly helpful for the fatigue. Ordinarily, even while traveling, he would sleep as little as possible and keep working out aspects of the case. In this instance, however… “I feel I shall be glad of time to rest on our trip home. It is difficult not to fall asleep right now.”
Watson gave a soft chuckle. “Well, don’t fall asleep just yet. You need a clean shirt first, and to take your shoes off. And I need to finish washing your face.”
“I am most grateful to you for all this, you know. And for so much else.” Trying and failing to smile, Holmes opened his eyes and gave Watson a quick glance. “You are a most dependable partner, yet I believe you are also nearing the limits of your strength. We should perhaps both try to rest.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” With the utmost care, Watson finished washing Holmes’ face. Then he set down the bowl and quickly rinsed off his own face before digging in their luggage. “I must say, I am eager to return to London. I thought I would enjoy the heat of Louisiana, but…”
“You prefer the rainy streets of London after all?”
“After rowing through a swamp all night, yes.”
They both changed into clean shirts, and although it was not enough to remove the traces of their grisly adventure, it did at least make Holmes feel a little more like himself. From the relief on Watson’s face, he felt similarly.
It would have been more prudent to sleep apart, especially as the bunks on this ship were not large. But sudden terror twisted through Holmes’ chest as soon as he considered it, and he clutched Watson’s arm. “John.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“Merely a… little nervousness, I think.” Holmes could hardly breathe, and the mere thought of surrendering to sleep left him shaky. “I do not wish to be alone.”
Watson gave him a confused look. “We are sharing a room, Sherlock.”
“I know. But…” Perhaps one further embarrassment would be necessary after all. “I feel much better with you by my side. Please do not make me say it more plainly.”
Watson gave a kind smile, then drew him into a careful hug. “I’d be glad to sleep by your side. Although I fear we shall be a little cramped.”
“That’s quite all right.” Breathing a little more easily now, Holmes laid his head on Watson’s sturdy shoulder. “Being close to you shall be very calming.”
And not only calming, but terribly reassuring. These forces that they battled against were truly horrific and strange, like nothing else he had ever encountered. But Watson’s presence, so utterly dependable, could always call him back from the abyss.