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Stripped Flowers - BBC Sherlock fanfic (+ Part 4)


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If you like fluff, one-shots and Martin Freeman (John Watson), I'm sure you'll like this.


Stripped Flowers

Sitting alone in Hyde Park seemed to be the only way that John Watson could completely relax. Another fight with Sherlock about his disappering humanity, caused him to blindly flee the shared flat.

It was the one moment where he could completely relax, to not think about work or Sherlock, and that calmed John substantially. He somehow managed to escape and sit on a bench quietly, in an open park. One hand rested on the arm of the bench, the other in his lap. He seems calm. Distant. Yet approachable.

Piled upon the lightly dew covered grass the crisp red leaves whirled around in a circle, sweeping the beautiful park, the mystifying colours of the sun shone onto the pile of leaves glistening brightly. The sound of crunching under people feet as they walk along well trodden path. Pulling his coat tighter around his neck, it was a reminder of the chill yet to come.

Autumn was here. And it seemed that all of these allergens were nesting in this particular park. A little girl rode passed on her bike, scattering more leaves across the path. John sniffed wetly, coughing a little under his breath. He noticed how a very small tickle began to brew inside his nasal cavities. He was about to disregard it, when the sudden urge came over him.

"Hhgk'NGHXttch!" His chest lurched with such force. The bulb of nose was tinged with red. The tingling sensation ever present, lingering behind his nostrils.

Only a few moments passed before the little girl on her bike came speeding past once more, her long, thin scarf trailing behind her, the fabric seemed too long for her small frame.

"Heh'hhkxchuu! Nnxxgh!" John's head snapped forward onto his chest, his hand harshly pinching his nose. He let out a quick sigh after each sneeze, his breath becoming more misty.


The young, dark-haired girl stopped her bike a few metres away from the solider. Wearing the colourful, little bobble hat and riding a superman bike, John was suddenly aware that the young girl had been staring the whole time.

"You have been sneezing a lot." Her lispy voice cut abruptly through his thoughts. Her head tilted a little, as she chewed on her tiny finger, "Are you allergic to me?"

Shifting his position on the bench, his nose leaking with warm fluid due to the icy breeze flowing past. "No, no. Sorry, was I bothering you?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"N-Never mind." His senitive nose caught the scent of damp leaves. His head snapped away from her, a hand quickly clamped over his nose and mouth.

"Eh'ttssch! Hhh'ngxtt!"

With the violent shudder of his sneeze, The girl could see his muscles spasm underneath his thick coat.

"Bless you."


"Your nose is poorly."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your nose: it's poorly. Mama says that we put plasters on things that are poorly." She thought for a moment before speaking again, "But I don't think a plaster will fix your nose."

"No, it won't." His eyes shone slightly, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, amazed at the girl's boldness.

"So how will you fix it?"

"I thihhnk I should-- Uh'nNgXt! Hh….hhhersshhoo! go h-home be... Hhhhh... --ttshNngxshh! Before it gets worse." With a sad grimace, his smiled faltered, each sneeze becoming more tired than the next.

"That's a good idea." The girl gave John a sad smile before getting back on her bike. "Before I go," Her tiny frame waddled over to the bench, shoving a hand in her coat pocket. "Just in case." She placed the thin, light object in his hand, tightly closing his fist, before peddling off down the path for one last time.

John watched her silently, before turning back to his gift; a bright pink plaster in the palm of his hand.

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dklfjsldfkajsd;kjd :stretcher:

Oh, AppleBlossom, that was fantastic, and you are fantastic and just good lord I don't have words.

Everything about this was brilliant. I mean the spellings, the storyline, the imagery...Not to mention the feels caused by this.

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!

I'm just going to casually run off and read this again because arrruuugh wubsmiley.gif

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Oh dear god, that was so unbelievably sweet. :inlove: I love John so, so much. You've painted such a beautiful autumn image with this. *deep, happy sigh*

My night has officially been made. Thank you. :heart:

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Ohmyfreakinggod! Your writing is amazing!!!!!

Actually I'm rather a Sherlock fan, and not all that into Watson, but your fic made me fall for him in the best way possible <3

These sneezes are so beautifully spelled, I could sooo imagine them in my head!

This is so incredibly fantastic, I want you, I demand you, to continue!!!

Maybe with some grumpy caretaking by guilty feeling Holmes?

In either case, you made my day <3

Thank youuuu, you rock!

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Greetingsfromboston: Thank you so much for your support! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Always: Aww thanks! I loved that little senario as well. I was a little worried about my sneeze spellings but I'm glad you enjoyed them! I guess you have a little more reading to do, *hint hint*

Thegreatpretender: Thank you very so much for reading it!

Sigrith: Thanks, and thank you for reading it!

VoOs: I love John so much as well, especially that adorable nose of his! :wub: Your comment made my night as well!

Always-a-Ginger: And you're sweet too! :)

Vongola Undicesimo: I hope you liked it! :D

LovelyLinda: Hiya, I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and I took on board your suggestion, even though I wanted to keep this a one-shot, but then this popped into my head! *snigger*


Coming out of Hyde park, John began the long walk back to his apartment, his nose running rapidly from the frozen wind battering at him. Another tinge from his irritated nose annoyed him even further. The hitching began, eyes forced to close at the pending release.

"Ehhtchheww! --ugh."

The harsh sneeze took him by surprise, and the quiver of his nostrils signalled more to come.

"Nkttchhoo! Hettcchhooo! Hhh.. Nh-- KnTCHchtt!"

Coughing a little, his chest crackling quietly underneath the fabric. Rummaging through his pockets, he realised he had forgotten his handkerchief. Sighing raspingly, John merely rubbed his nose with his finger.

John began walking before bumping straight into a 6 foot frame, his eyes darkened at the sight of that man. "What do you want?" John almost snarled, if he wasn't so goddamn polite.  Sherlock's eyebrows lifted, as his thin lips gave a small pout.

"I see that the spores of fungi have increased by about 30%."

"What makes you s-say thhh.. Nhxxgt!"

"Well, your nose has just confirmed it for me."

"It's noth-ihh.. HghTchhoo! Just a random snf ...sneeze." he huffed, wiping his nostrils roughly on the cuff of his coat.

"Do you really believe that John, hmm? Because I don't," His coat rippled against him in the wind, moving inches closer, his sharp, blue eyes pierced into John's.   

"You have been looking a lot more flushed; too flushed in fact. You have no reason to be; the weather is getting colder, therefore you should be getting paler. However, the pigmentation in your skin has grown by 40%. Suppiles of toilet paper have deceased substantially. Meaning that you are using on average, 5 squares more than you should be: and also that you're trying to be clever about it by hiding it from me. And then, of course, the chapping around the reddening nostrils, the sluggish composture, and finally your eyelids which have swelled to 1.5 times their normal size. One explanation: Autumn allergens."

Rubbing the bridge of his reddening nose, before sighing out his words, "Yeah, well it's a lot less impressive when I'm not feeling well." 

In a dry tone, he barked, "Here." Sherlock pulled away at his coat, handing a cotton handkerchief to him.

John never really knew what exactly what going on in Sherlock's mind. The fact that he had been analysing him again, both irritated him and yet... he was thankful. Thankful that he noticed his suffering, but then again, he also added to them.

Blowing his nose in the soft fabric, his wide nose twitched as he inhaled sharply, his breath hitching quite obviously. His dark eyes narrowed, and his bottom lip trembled. "Hh-- Hehtshh! Ehhhsstt! Nh.. Hgk'hNGXh!" He erupted, nose squelched inside the fabric.

Sherlock turned his back on him, letting John hide, almost shielding him from any further embarrassment and the revolted stares of strangers, "Where's a bloody cab?" He muttered, eyes scanned the dreary, grey background of London. John gave out a small groan, biting it back when he realised who he was with. 

John felt a gentle pat on the back of his green coat; turning to face it, he watched the awkward hand of Sherlock Holmes rub his back. John gave no hint of emotion as he put the handkerchief in his pocket, he felt the crinkle of the gift he had received, he carefully told it out, his gazed eyes shone over their little encounter.

"What's that?" Sherlock blurted, remembering that he was still leering behind him.

"A plaster." John returned it to his pocket."

"Where did you get it from?"

"A girl from the park, we were talking earlier."

"I wouldn't talk to her if I were you."

John pinched his nose with pale fingers, "Why not?"

"People will get the wrong idea; being a child predator and all."

Eyes widened, his mouth opened in shock, "Sherlock--! I... I'm not a predator, and even so, she came up to me!"

"That doesn't make it morally right, John." With childish teasing, Sherlock supressed a low chuckle, catching a glimpse at the hurtful look on Watson's face.

"Anyway, I would never do that to a child!"

"Ah, a denial. I thought you weren't going to say anything."

"Sherlock, please. This bloody pollen - or whatever this stuff is - is giving me a painful headache as it is!" He spat sharply. To be truthful, Sherlock was really starting to piss him off again. But he would rather spend the rest of the day inside the apartment with him, than another hour outside here.

"Sorry." A long silence washed over them both, the other not really knowing what to say; a stare of bewilderment came over John, so Sherlock questioned it, "What?"

"I think that amazed me more than your deduction." 

They both smirked at each other, both wanting the upper hand when a cab came into view. Climbing in, both Sherlock and John began their journey home. However, Sherlock spoke once more, "You're lucky you pay half the rent, I would have left you to suffer ages ago." John blinked, shaking his head over the fact that Sherlock had even tried to be comforting, and that he had almost failed miserably.

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Enter Sherlock. <3 That adorable banter... *happy giggle*

My heart's all warm and gooey now. Your fault. wub.png

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Gosh I left this late!!!! I kept vowing to reply but never got round to it so here we go....

OHMYFLIPPINGNORA!!!!!! Love it!!!!!! The first part was absolutely adorable! You have very good writing skills! Now part 2...what can I say?!! You nailed Sherlock. This is feeding my addiction so thank you! Please write more :D

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VoOs: I'm sorry I had your heart dribble all over the place, but I bet you didn't mind at all. ;)

Thegreatpretender: Oh yes, poor, poor John! :D And thank you for commenting! 

LovelyLinda: Oh Linda, you better hold on girl! :D Haha!

Always-a-Ginger: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!

Always: Aww, Thank you very much! It means the world to be when you comment! By the way, I love your beautiful icon! ;)

g123: Thanks! I was worried about portraying Sherlock, because he is such an awesome character, I hope you enjoy him a little more! :)  


Even though John sat quietly inside of the cab, away from the trees outside, his condition slowly began to deteriorate. Eyes red and puffy with constant rubbing, allergic tears lightly forming in the corners of his eyes. Nostrils flickered, trying to stop the intense tickling from forming.     

They made it home, surprisingly both in one piece. No one had yet a chance to apologize or even forgive the other one. The cold air was wearing him thin and his muscles ached from the stiff journey home. Sherlock kept a firm hold on his tongue, not saying a word until they got through the door.

"You can stop holding it in."

"What.. Hh- Hhh? Nhhh....!" He hastily covered his nose with a shaking hand, "I'm fine." The sudden change in temperature seemed to create a tinge in his sinuses. Pushing past, he climbed the stairs almost a little too quickly.

Quickly on his tail, Sherlock announced, "I don't think 'fine' is pronounced with a 'd' at the end."

"Oh, be quiet!" Opening the door, Sherlock began to remove his coat, smirking, "I'm never quiet."

John wasn't really paying attention to Sherlock. His face became slack again, he closed his teary eyes, then wrinkled his eyebrows as if he could muster the sneeze away just by mere will. Of course, his nose wasn't having it. "ehKXTchuu! hehTTSSH!" Sighing again, not believing the utter state he was in.

"John," Moving a little closer, wary as not to get sprayed with John's little microorganisms. "Do you have any medication?"

"For what?" Sherlock watched him took out the handkerchief, and scrub his scarlet nostrils against the fabric. 

With firm persistence, Sherlock's teeth almost clenched, "You know bloody what."

He paused for a moment, trying to explaining his situation, "Yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"I mean I do have medication," He fiddled with the hem of the white square, "But I ran out."

"Ah, so you don't have any medication?"

John took a quick, sharp breath and turned away, sneezing harshly into his fist. "Ektssh!" His body almost doubled over with the force of the sneeze, shuddering violently. "No." He confessed.

"Well, you could of just said that. It would have saved me a lot of time and effort!" Sherlock spat, fed up already at John's lethargic state.

"Umm, I am right here."

Shifting his eyes up and down his frame, he confirmed with mocking astonishment. "I noticed."

Grabbing his coat off the rail, he pulled his arm through the sleeves again, "W-Where are you going?"


"But where?"

"To get your bloody medicine, where do you think?"

"You're getting my medicine?"

"Yes. What, do you honestly think I was going to shove you outside again while you're looking like this? Children-- No, adults would have nightmares."


"My pleasure." He gave him a fleering look, slamming the door behind him.

Even through they weren't even near any trees, John's allergies still continued to act up. Coughing harshly over his arm, he wrapped the handkerchief around his nose, and sat silently in his armchair. He had been inside for a while, John still shivered like mad. That cold sensation came in gradual tremors, so much that he began to feel tired.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping for. Slumped awkwardly in his armchair, his neck twisted in a position that surely seemed uncomfortable, and his eyes droopy and glazed. "Hhhh... nNgXt!" His nose was functioning perfectly, of course.

His eyes watered and burned, so he pressed the palms of hands into his eyes. John moaned when they didn't relieve the itching. Eyes firmly shut, a knuckle rubbed his watery tear-duct harshly. He was so focused on rubbing his eye raw, that he didn't notice the front door opening. The slow, calm footsteps didn't even register with John, as a towering frame swiftly moved toward the chair.

Sherlock softly held John's hand and pushed it back down to his lap, "Don't rub." He muttered, almost unseen lines of concern etched on his features. John replied with a sorry sniffle, only to cup his nose with trembling fingers.

"eh'tchcheww! Hkh'nnghxt! HetCHhh! H- Huh.. Uh'hersshhoo!" He apologized when he had finished, his nostrils running and his eyes streaming with irritated tears.

"Here's your medication."

Eyes burning fiercely, he fumed, "Damn my medication!" It seemed that closing his eyes and sleeping only worsened his already appalling symptoms. His lungs became racked with violent coughs, John shakily trying to get his breath back. "This would have never h-had happened... if you just kept your stupid opinions to yourself!"

"I didn't realise how much this affected you--"

"Sherlock, please. You've done enough." Bloodshot eyes shimmered, his tone threatening, fighting off another wave for throat-renching coughing. Lungs wheezing for air.

"I just saved you the effort of embarrassing yourself again, by getting your tablets for you! You should at least be grateful!"

"I-- ahek! ahek! Oh no.."

"What is it John? John?!"

Pain and utter fear struck deep into Sherlock's core, as he heard John whimper, "I... I can't breathe."

"Wha- What do you mean you can't breathe?!"

"I mean, I c-can't bloody breathe--!"

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Ooh! Now Sherlock is going to have to navigate allergic asthma. His crisis management skills, I would assume, are not perfect. Exciting!

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Well thank you! I ove my icon, too. This man's face is just u-g-h.

But enough about that.

Cliffhangers, cliffhangers, cliffhangers! I hate them, but love them. Not going to lie that I'll be anxiously awaiting your next installment.

And one more thing; Sherlock's little snarky comments and hidden concern are ridiculously adorable and I may or may not have melted into an incoherent puddle of goo. Brilliant job, again!

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Oh my god, this needs to be updated, like, soon, or I'm going to explode from the tension! John!!!!!!

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Eek, poor John. ;_____; *small sounds of concern*

Oh, and this bit?

Sherlock softly held John's hand and pushed it back down to his lap, "Don't rub." He muttered, almost unseen lines of concern etched on his features. John replied with a sorry sniffle, only to cup his nose with trembling fingers.

...gave me pleasant little shivers all over.


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H-Hey!!! You can't do this! Don't stop it right there!! O.O

I need moooooore! I need to know what happens to poor John!

Your writing is so brilliant, it's like a drug that I'm highly addicted to *_*

Pleaaaase more. I hate cliffhangers. No, actually I love them. Argh! You know what I mean.

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Queenie: Well, Sherlock said himself he only remembers things it they are relevant to him. Let's hope he knows a thing or two... For John's sake.

Greetingsfromboston: And thank you for commenting! It makes me day!

Always: Well no more cliffhangers... Hopefully! :D I can't promise anything! There might be a bit of bromance for you in there! ;) And I love your Sherlock fic, it might even inspire me a little!

g123: Wait no more, here you go!!!

Vongola Undicesimo: Don't explode! You can't read part 4 if you do! XL

VoOs: Pleasant shivers? I think you might need a blanket for this next part! :D

LovelyLinda: Your love, your love is my drug! Haha! I think our poor, dear John might need a cuddle after this. ;)


Sherlock just stood there as a statue, like a monument frozen for eternity. The fear he felt was a being in itself because it wasn't just in him, it was all around him. His pulse fluttered violently, as much as he didn't want to, he couldn't trust what he heard John utter from his mouth, which was even more frightening.

John's frail body began sliding down the armchair, eyes glittering with terrifed and startled tears, his breathing becoming even more rapid. Sherlock suddenly moved towards him, unzipping his coat; "You're hyperventialing, I need you to relax, John." His pale face replied with a moan, cut off by agonizing coughs.

Sherlock forced himself not to betray nor show any trace of horror or fear, or any of the numerous emotions jolting down his spine threatening to overcome him. Calculations began running into his mind, 'Not enough oxygen is getting to the brain. I need to think of something, or he'll go into respiratory arrest.' 

Slipping the coat off of his shoulders and out of his arms, he began undoing the buttons of his work shirt. Sherlock's eyes never once met John's, saving him a little more dignity. He felt the hairs prickling on the back of the neck.

John could feel himself getting worse. His heart drummed like the thrumming wings of a caged bird, as a cold sweat ran over him. "Sher..." Tinted blue lips barely moved and barely uttered a sound. "Don't talk. Just breathe." Pink nostrils wavered desperately, holding back what he had been trying to fight.

"uh'hHershhoo! Gh--! TtSchuu!" Hands quickly covering his mouth a little too late, spraying liquid droplets to the closest possible thing. Quivering words came over John, "I'm.. I'm sorry.."

"John, please. Stop talking and stand up." Pulling John's arm over his shoulder, he lifted him to his feet. He thought of nothing else but fear; as much as he didn't want to admit it, Sherlock was scared. They shuffled carefully towards the bathroom, placing him inside the glass windows of the shower, he sat John down carefully.

Sherlock helped him place his hands on his knees and leant him forward, making his breathing a little easier. Shuddering in anticipation, John smothered his allergic nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "Huh-Isshhhooo! Hheeeh-ASHOO!" another agonising, wheezing breath escaped his lips.

Firing up the shower, putting the temperature to lukewarm, Sherlock knelt beside him, "John! John, look at me." "I need to close the door!" He explained, pronounating over the noise of the shower. Sherlock didn't wait for a reply: because he knew he wouldn't get one.

"In..." Another batch of raspy barking escaped him. The warm water merging with fear induced sweat, his eyes narrowed in discomfort, "Inha.."

"Yes, I know. You need to inhale. That's how you'll survive this."

"Khoff! Khoff!" John rapidly shook his head, taking one last painful breath, "Inhaler...!"

John's face became slack, his mouth slightly open, body unmoving, and colour draining from his cheeks. His eyes were painfully wide, as if staring at something no one else can see. He just completely froze, "Inhaler! You're... Asthmatic?!" 

Sherlock bolted out of the room. The path blurred by his fanatic sprinting. He smashed the John's bedroom door open giving a hard shove with his shoulder. No time for handles.

"If I was a small, significant object, where would I be?" Spinning, twisting and turning in the small room, "A inhaler is an essential medical device, for people suffering with respiratory illnesses. But John was a doctor, a solider before anything. If I were a military man, showing weakness would be a last resort, as well as dying." 

Moving towards John's bed, he muttered, "So if I was a weakness, I would be hiding behind my strength!" Pulling open the second drawer of his bedside table, Sherlock found the inhaler behind John's gun.

He returned to the bathroom, stream engulfed him quickly, Sherlock could only just make out the exhausted frame of John. It seemed that he was soaked to the bone, light hair was ruffled and glittered with water droplets, thankfully he had also stopped shivering.

Sherlock began to panic, John didn't seem to be breathing, he could no longer feel his warm breath against his skin, and John's skin had become sickly pale.

A more strained look came over him this time as instead of air escaping his flared nose came a thump as if something caught in his throat and a "NXT!" echoed into the shower. His lips parted slightly and closed, then parted again as he was forced to inhale sharply, water still crashing down on him. "NnKXtch!" His breath caught again, his body sank lower onto the tiled floor.  

Sherlock quickly turned the water off, getting soaked in the process. But he couldn't  "Come on, John. Wake up for me!" He held his head against his chest, holding back the lump swelling in his throat. 

Sherlock fumbled with the inhaler, carefully inserting it through John's lips, and tentatively pressed the button. As he took a breath in, the pain in his chest faded away, and his lungs swelled gingerly. 

Sherlock sighed heavily with sheer relief, the emotions that had built up almost overwelmed. Tentative fingers pressed the back of John's neck to relieve the tightened muscles, another hand felt his forehead, pushing his head back, opening his airways. "Breathe John. Breathe." As if John's subconcious obeyed Sherlock, his spontaneous breathing subsided, tired eyes opened on command.

Sherlock said his thanks to thin air, letting John sit up gradually, shaking his shoulder, smiling ever so slightly. Sherlock stood and grabbed a stack of toliet paper, then handed it to John. Breath already hitching from the stream loosening his congestion.   


"Eh-- tTschoo! Huh-eh'SHUHH!" He jerked forward with these sneezes so that he nearly smacked heads with Sherlock. Coughing weakly, he blew his nose wetly with the tissue paper.

"Can you breathe?" A gentle nod answered him. Sherlock grinned a little, before letting go a nervous laugh. "Asthma? Even you surprise me, John."

A soft croak came from John's raw throat, "I-It's not as bad as it seems." Sherlock raised a sarcastic eyebrow, "Okay, it can get bad... ish." 

Sniffling, he tumbled as stood up, Sherlock quickly gripping him by the forearms. "Easy." His deep voice commanded, letting him step out of the shower. "Here." John turned only for a  soft white fluffy towel to be thrown at his head. John looked at it warily for a moment, before calling out, "Sherlock!" He looked at him with cold, blue eyes, "Thanks."

The very word stumped Sherlock; what could he say to that? What could he say to a man after he thanked him for saving his life? He swallowed a little before replying, "Pleasure."


John smirked then laughed heartly, stopping to sniff suddenly but laughing even harder. He didn't know why he was laughing, but Sherlock couldn't help but giggle as well. They both laughed warmly together, before Sherlock cried to the floors downstairs, "Tea, Mrs Hudson!"


I think I'm going to end this story here, however that won't stop me from writing a few more BBC Sherlock fics! Thank you so much for all of our comments, they really do mean the world to me, and it just makes me love this site even more, when you guys enjoy my writing! Love you lots! :D

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