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Holmes has been unable to sleep. His brain has been racing about nothing in particular and he has been so far unable to get it to shut off. Coincidentally, Watson has been away at his surgery for the past two days, although he is due back at some point today.
Holmes drinks yet another coffee to try and stay awake as he hears the door open downstairs. He stops and listens. He immediately recognises Watson's familiar tread on the stairs and his heart swells. His Watson is finally home.
"Holmes! I'm back!" Watson calls as he opens the sitting room door.
Holmes jumps from the table and runs to embrace his doctor. Two days without Watson is a simply unacceptable length of time and he has missed him dearly. He feels Watson's arms surround his waist and he sighs contentedly.
"I've missed you too dear." Watson whispers. "Let me look at you."
Holmes pulls back slightly and Watson cups his cheek. The doctor's blue eyes scan across his face, taking in any subtle changes that may have occurred over the past two days.
"You've struggled alone again?"
Holmes nods, somewhat sheepishly.
"Why didn't you communicate with me? I could have found time to come home." Watson doesn't look mad. He never looks mad at Holmes failing to look after himself. He does however look concerned, and Holmes doesn't know which hurts more.
Not knowing what to say, Holmes stays silent. Watson recognises the need to change the topic and begins telling Holmes about the trouble he had with the cabs getting home. Watson has no doubt seen the lack of sleep in Holmes' eyes, but has decided against commenting on it.
They sit together at the table and talk for a while as Watson eats the food leftover from breakfast. Even Holmes manages to eat a little something now Watson is here with him.
"Come on old man." Watson says as he walks over to the settee. Holmes expects him to sit on it, but instead he takes the cushions and blankets off of it and lays them on the floor. He begins arranging them before getting more from their room. Once content he sits in the middle of this nest of blankets and cushions and pats the space beside him.
"Watson, what are you doing?" Holmes laughs.
"Just sit. Rest your head in my lap if you want to. I'll read the paper or something to you if you like."
Holmes grabs a book and hands it to Watson before sitting next to him and resting his head on his good shoulder. Watson begins to read and after a short while Holmes finds his eyelids drooping. Watson helps him lie down with his head on a pillow in Watson's lap. His favourite blanket is wrapped around his shoulders and Watson begins to read again. The last thing Holmes hears before he is lost to the world is the sound of Watson's voice.