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It was not that I was in the habit of sleeping on trains, or that I even found them particularly soothing. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the compartment that caused it, or that the company of my ever-vigilant partner meant that I felt completely safe and had nothing to fear. Or, and this was probably more likely, it was just that the train was the first place that I had been still for more than a few minutes in well over twenty four hours.
In the autumn of 1895, Holmes’ career was thriving, and I had the immense privilege of being along for the ride. I had sold my practice and now devoted myself to being both his chronicler and assistant as he flew from case to case with the utmost glee.
Despite occasional bouts of recurring illness brought on by his years of deprivation after Reichenbach Falls, Holmes was in almost perpetually high spirits. And as his partner, so was I.
But while he could sustain himself on the excitement of his cases almost indefinitely, or at least until he worked himself to the point of total collapse, I had a regular need for the things he disdained as commonplace. Food, sleep, and the occasional day off.
I had at least gotten a solid meal not long before we boarded the train, as Holmes had remembered that I needed dinner. He seemed to have entirely forgotten that sleep existed, however, chattering away at top speeds about the next case awaiting us.
The details of that next case escaped me—something about fraud or embezzlement. I was too exhausted to even try to pay attention. Once seated on the train, I made the mistake of briefly closing my eyes. And that was the end of consciousness.
I awakened when a hand stole into mine and gave a little shake. “Watson, kindly rouse yourself. We’re here.”
Dazed, I blinked away sleep, and found that I was listing to the side with my head on Holmes’ shoulder. It seemed I had been drooling. My cheek was wet, and so was his jacket.
“Why, Holmes!” I cried, straightening up with some difficulty. “I am dreadfully sorry. I did not mean to fall asleep while you were talking to me.”
I was still hardly awake, and began to sway sideways. Holmes, who had been waving a hand dismissively, abandoned his gesture and caught my arm. “Dear me, dear me. It is I who owe you many apologies, my boy. I fear I have driven you a little too hard.”
“I will be all right,” I said, my eyes nearly closing. “I have had a nap now.”
“No, no. I have no doubt that what you need is a proper night’s sleep, in a bed rather than dozing on my admittedly bony shoulder, which cannot possibly be a comfortable pillow.” In an instant, Holmes was on his feet, and his firm grip on my arm drew me upright. “Come, Watson. You shall see that I have not entirely neglected you.”
I mumbled a protest that I did not feel neglected, although I was so exhausted that I was not entirely certain I had managed to be coherent. It seemed that I had indeed reached the limits of my endurance. Apart from my own bouts of illness, I had always considered myself fairly resilient. But to keep up with Holmes was sometimes an impossible feat.
To my surprise, it turned out that he had wired ahead to reserve a hotel suite at our destination. It was not large accommodation, just a double-bedded bedroom and sitting room, but at the moment I would have settled for anything that let me be stationary.
“There, my dear fellow, what do you make of this?” Holmes plucked my bag out of my hand and set it on an armchair, then rummaged through it without asking. I did not mind. “Do undress, and we shall get you straight into bed. I am aware that you are likely to protest this and wish to hear my plans—”
“I will not protest,” I said at once, although the mere feat of unbuttoning my coat seemed beyond me when I was so weary. “I fear tiredness is making me stupid. I can scarcely even remember what our case is about.”
Holmes opened his mouth as if to explain it all again, then merely gave a whimsical smile and pulled my nightshirt from my bag. He deposited it on the bed, then gently began to unbutton my coat. “Well, well, we shall leave the case for tomorrow. My poor Watson needs sleep.”
“Will you join me?” I asked, and then winced at myself. Holmes only rarely slept when he had a case, and I did not expect him to do so when he was puzzling out the initial evidence. “No, I’m sorry. Surely you will wish to get to work right away.”
“Hum! I cannot deny that I have a great many papers to go through. I must collect what data I can before delving deeper into the matter.” Holmes removed my jacket delicately, set it aside, and then worked at my waistcoat and tie. I had a vague feeling that I ought to have been doing this myself, but it was taking all my remaining energy not to fall asleep standing. “However…”
He sunk into thought then, his brow furrowed and eyes distant as he neatly divested me of my clothes. I was far too tired to even speculate the direction his mind had taken, especially as he thought much faster than me even when I wasn’t dozing.
“I shall likely be too restless to remain in bed for very long,” he said suddenly, while in the middle of helping me into my nightshirt. “But I should be glad to join you for a little, my dear fellow. It seems the least I can do in return for all your devotion and indulgence of my too-rapid pace.”
Even in my utter exhaustion, I smiled. “I am glad to indulge your pace, my dear Holmes. I just need the occasional rest.”
“And you shall have it.” He laid his slender fingers against my cheek and brushed a tender kiss to my brow. “Come, Watson. Let us see what we can do for your weariness.”
I was doubly glad of his company as he helped me to bed. In my current, hardly awake state, I would have been tempted to simply collapse into bed and not adjust in the slightest. Holmes, as was his nature when his attention had been captured, went about settling me comfortably into bed as if it was his sole mission in life.
Once he laid down beside me, I promptly snuggled against him, my thoughts too foggy for any of the usual chatter that resulted when we shared a bed. The usual aches in my shoulder and leg gnawed deeper at the change in position, but I did not care. I just wished to be closer to my partner for now.
“Please don’t feel guilty,” I said, meaning both about my fatigue and the likelihood that he would rise in the middle of the night. “It is always a great joy to me to be at your side.”
I promptly yawned, and Holmes gave a fond chuckle. He adjusted my arm slightly, so that it lay in a position across his chest that would not hurt my shoulder. “And I am lost when you are not at mine. Sleep well, my dearest John.”
Smiling, I let my eyes close. I was in desperate need of more sleep, and could fight off the fatigue no longer. But while I eagerly anticipated rest, I was even more eager to awake in a clearer state of mind so I might hear Holmes’ thoughts on our next case.