HoneyBunny's Drabble Thread (BBC Sherlock for now)

[HoneyBunny]

Allergic!Sherlock is one of my favourite things.

I've always been partial to sick!Sherlock, but the allergy trope is definitely starting to grow on me Thank you for commenting!

#26: Suspicion

Slightly worried by the eerie silence in 221B, John peeked into Sherlock’s bedroom. It was freezing cold and Sherlock was in bed without a blanket, shivering and lips tinged blue. John was overcome by a fleeting suspicion that Sherlock was experimenting on himself again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Analysing what the cold does to me,” Sherlock sniffled.

“Any results yet?” John inquired, strangely accepting of Sherlock’s escapades.

Before replying, Sherlock buried his face in his pillow. “’ishh’chuh! Huh—h’chxt! I find that it irritates my nasal passages.”

“Why don’t you examine the effects of normal temperatures then?”

“Boring.”

#56: Lovely

“This is Oscar, Harry’s cat. She’s asked me to baby-sit him for a few days.”

“Ah. How lovely,” Sherlock said dryly. Before he could close his bedroom door, the long-haired feline dashed inside.

“Damn!”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock claimed before turning away to hide a pair of stifled sneezes and rub his nose viciously. Then it dawned on John: “—You’re allergic? I’ll take him back then…”

Sniffling, he replied, “Really, it’s okay. I can see how much you like him.”

Oscar rubbed up against Sherlock’s legs, triggering another pair of sneezes.

John laughed. “Apparently he likes you more than me.”

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Ooh, experimenting!Lock! One of my absolute favorite scenarios!

As for the cat, poor Sherlock! It always seems to be that way: cats are the cuddliest to those allergic to them!

I love these drabbles of yours so much!

[VoOs]

Sherlock being allergic to cats is perhaps my favourite fetish-y headcanon (thank you, Stephen King! ).

These are all purrrrrrfect.

[cally]

Mmmmm sneezy Sherlock.

[AngelEyes]

Just discovered this thread. *Does little happy dance* These are adorable!!!!

[squealofapproval]

Oscar, bad kitty... I like that cat.

[HoneyBunny]

Ooh, experimenting!Lock! One of my absolute favorite scenarios!

As for the cat, poor Sherlock! It always seems to be that way: cats are the cuddliest to those allergic to them!

I love these drabbles of yours so much!

Yeah, his experiments are also one of my all-time favourites. Thank you!

Sherlock being allergic to cats is perhaps my favourite fetish-y headcanon (thank you, Stephen King! ).

These are all purrrrrrfect.

Oooh, thanks! (and I should probably say thank you because I read your allergic!Sherlock drabble and it was gorgeous )

Mmmmm sneezy Sherlock.

Just discovered this thread. *Does little happy dance* These are adorable!!!!

It's great that there's still people who like my keyboard smashes! Thank you

Oscar, bad kitty... I like that cat.

Hmm, yeah, I think I might bring him back sometime...

---

Oh dear, has it really been a month since I last wrote? I'm so sorry... I should really try to write something as part of my daily routine. But I guess I'm back today And because I just wanted to get this out as quickly as possibly, I said to hell with the word count. These are 225 and 155 words each. (Couldn't resist making it a "round" number. Maybe I'll go back to the 100-word-rule next time.) Anyway, enough rambling, on to the drabbles! Enjoy!

---

#9: Touched

The first time, John thought nothing of it. The second and third, he simply blessed Sherlock and went back to reading. When Sherlock sneezed for the fourth time, John quietly placed a pack of tissues on the table. This was ignored by Sherlock, who settled for sniffling deeply and wiping his nose on a wrist instead, breath hitching again.

“hh—huh’TZSHhh!”

John pointedly nudged the tissues closer to Sherlock but remained quiet. After a half hour of increasingly wet sneezes, Sherlock went into the kitchen to make tea, taking his time to make sure John saw that he touched all the utensils with his unwashed hands, still sneezing at regular intervals. Finally, John had had enough and cleared his throat.

“Sherlock? Would you mind washing your hands? I don’t want to catch your cold, that’s all.”

Surprisingly, what followed wasn’t the rant John was expecting, but a bout of hearty laughter.

“Sorry? What’s so funny?” John asked perplexedly.

“Interesting! I thought you’d take longer,” Sherlock chuckled. “I was testing how polite you’d be and when you’d draw the line and say something.” He was cut off by another sneeze. “tsxch’uh! snf – Ahh, excuse me. By the way, I’m not contagious. I triggered an allergic reaction using some perfume, specially for this experiment.”

John sighed. “By now I really should have gotten used to your experiments.”

---

#36: Miserable

He looked frail, shivering in front of the microscope and trying to breathe through the coughing fits. After watching him being distracted from his work by relentless sneezes and sniffles for an hour, she gathered all her courage and walked up to him. He looked up, but immediately turned away again, burying his face in his elbow.

“heh’ashshoo! USHCH’ooh!”

“Are you okay? Because you look a bit miserable – I mean, you don’t – uh… But I thought maybe you should go home and rest.”

“I’m fine, Molly,” Sherlock replied in a strained, breathless voice.

“Maybe – if you want to – you could come over to my flat? Just for lunch, I mean… I have some chicken soup in the freezer; my Mum taught me how to make it…” Molly stammered and blushed.

She thought he was going to decline, but was positively surprised when he nodded coyly. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile.

[squealofapproval]

Oh, Molly. Molly DEAREST.

[TheCakeIsAlive]

“Photic sneeze reflex. You’re welcome.”

Brilliant.

“Oh. I know who. …Sherlock, I just solved my first case. Please don’t sneeze on the evidence.”

*giggles* I love all the deadpan lines you're giving John. Absolutely lovely.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Oh, God! I don't know what it is, but there is just something about "Touched" that just makes me go all...

[cally]

Oh, Sherlock. You are one of a kind.

[AngelEyes]

I love when he experiments on John. LOL. Poor John.

[matilda3948]

Aww, sweet Molly trying to take care of Sherlock. One of my favorite things

[HoneyBunny]

Oh, Molly. Molly DEAREST.

She's such a sweetheart, isn't she?

“Photic sneeze reflex. You’re welcome.”

Brilliant.

“Oh. I know who. …Sherlock, I just solved my first case. Please don’t sneeze on the evidence.”

*giggles* I love all the deadpan lines you're giving John. Absolutely lovely.

Oh, thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying

Oh, God! I don't know what it is, but there is just something about "Touched" that just makes me go all...

I think the exploding emoticon is the biggest compliment one can get. Thank you!!

Oh, Sherlock. You are one of a kind.

... and that's why we love him!

I love when he experiments on John. LOL. Poor John.

Oh yeah, poor John. He endures so much, sometimes I wonder why he hasn't moved out yet

Aww, sweet Molly trying to take care of Sherlock. One of my favorite things

Thanks I think I might continue this scenario one day.

---

#98: Favor

For the last five hours, Sherlock had been trying adamantly to hide his blooming cold. John was a doctor, but anyone could have seen Sherlock’s illness: his wheezing breath, the surreptitious nose-rubs, a running tap masking restrained coughs and sneezes.

“You feeling alright?” John eyed Sherlock skeptically.

“Yes,” Sherlock hissed, swiping at his nose with the cuff of his shirt, which didn’t prevent another sneeze from sneaking out between his index finger and thumb.

“’ngcht!”

“Are you sure about that? Because it sounds like you’re coming down with something,” John grinned smugly.

“Do me a favour and kindly shut up.”

#29: Purple

“But why’s it purple, John?”

“It’s for children, because you refuse to take normal cold medicine for normal adults.”

“Not my fault if the regular kind tastes like rotten Brussels sprouts. But I’m not taking anything purple.”

“Yes you will, because your cold will turn into sinusitis if you don’t; and I’m not listening to your whining for another week,” John huffed, his patience wearing thin.

“I’m not whining… hehh—“ Quickly pinching his chapped nose between his fingers, Sherlock twisted himself away. “hh’nGTT! ‘nxcht! Oww, that hurt!”

“Case in point,” John remarked and finally administered his friend the medicine.

#68: Attitude

“Sherlock, Forensics has been done for hours. Don’t you wanna leave it for today?”

“You won’t catch the murderer with that attitude,” Sherlock hummed, scanning the crime scene again. It was muddy and rain dripped down Sherlock’s neck, intensifying the cold of the gloomy December day.

Lestrade was standing under an umbrella, jangling car keys in his hand. “Alright, I’m going back to the Yard. Just don’t destroy the crime scene. …Unless you want a lift?”

“No,” Sherlock muttered, and seconds later his eyes narrowed, a fluid sneeze wrenching its way out of him. “heh’ISCHshiuu! –Wait, I’m coming with you!”

#90: Childhood (Word count: 120. I don't know where the hell this came from... This was written at 2 am when my brain had already stopped forming full sentences, hence the strange form. My sincere apologies)

Antihistamine or no antihistamine?

Itchy nose, wheezing breath, irritated eyes. Begging for relief.

Pride. No chemicals to fight such trivial problems. Mind over matter.

But – watering eyes narrowing into slits. Sinuses prickling with irritation. Hands coming up to cover his face every few minutes, interrupting his thought process.

No trust in the pharmaceutical industry. Imbeciles wildly combining dangerous chemicals just to make money.

Trying to quell asthmatic coughing fits. Shoving tissues up his sleeves to keep ready, and warding off worried comments from everyone he knows.

Childhood flashbacks. Being knocked out by a double dose and spending all day in bed, sedated into unconsciousness.

Chest swelling with a series of hitched breaths once again. “huh-hh-hih’hehACHSHhhew! Itchioo! Huh’eshchhh!”

--Antihistamine, definitely.

[squealofapproval]

I have a cold. The coincidence being I took purple cold medicine for adults before bed last night.

[AngelEyes]

Love these!

[cally]

Oh Sherlock. Never, ever change.

[matilda3948]

These are all great, but that first one with the "do kindly shut up" Sherlock snark...delightful!

I love that the sneezy Sherlock writing geniuses have been busy the last couple days. Sooo much awesome on this board right now

[VoOs]

I love, love, love 'Childhood' and its stream of consciousness narration.

Allergic Sherlock gives me life. <3

[HoneyBunny]

Thank you so much, guys! Your comments mean the world to me. <3

These are two drabbles that I wrote last year for the multiple-authors-thread, but I thought it'd be nice to have them here with the rest of my Sherlock silliness. Enjoy!

---

Bonus Drabble #2 (Word count: 521)

“What exactly is it you’re doing now?”

John comes home from his job at the surgery to find Sherlock in his usual posture: in his chair opposite the fireplace, knees drawn up to his chest, eyes closed in deep thought. What’s different this time though is that he is pressing his index finger under his nose horizontally rather than steepling his hands in front of his mouth in his usual prayer-like gesture; and his face is twisted into a grimace, brow furrowed, mouth slightly opened to reveal a line of white teeth.

When Sherlock doesn’t answer after a few seconds, John makes his way over to his flatmate, and, to his horror, sees a small bag filled with white powder on the coffee table. At first John wants to think it’s something else, sugar maybe, flour maybe, dear God, anything but what it looks like – but the small lines in which the powder has been arranged on a glass plate tell a different tale.

“Sher-“ John’s voice breaks, he swallows and tries again. “Sherlock? Why are you doing this? Didn’t you say you’ve been clean for five years? Why now?”

“Shh, not now, John,” Sherlock rasps, but before John can reply, the tall dark-haired man takes in a deep breath and pinches his nose with long fingers.

“Hhgnkt! Hehpsshuu – nxt – hih-tsscht!“ Sherlock’s head bobs forward with each stifled explosion, and if John wasn’t too worried about his flatmate relapsing into his former drug addiction, he would simply laugh at the way the man curls in on himself with every sneeze.

The buttons on Sherlock’s shirt strain as his breath hitches once more, and he is thrown forward again. “Hehh - - Hah’dsh! ihGtch – ngxtshu! Hh-Heh-“ For a few seconds it looks like the sneeze won’t come, but in an unguarded moment, Sherlock snaps forward with a desperate “Heh-eshew!” which nearly sends him tumbling off his chair. In the end he manages to catch himself before falling, but knocks the plate with the white powder off the coffee table and produces a giant cloud of dust.

John half expects Sherlock to curse about spilling the expensive drug, but instead the detective continues to sneeze into cupped hands repeatedly. By now, the situation has taken on an almost comedic undercurrent and John finds himself worried more about his friend’s perpetual sneezing fit than about his drug relapse.

Finally Sherlock gets himself back under control and wheezes, “Don’t worry. ‘s just for a case.”

“Excuse me? You’re doing drugs for a case now?” John eyes him suspiciously.

“… Isn’t it obvious?”

An eye roll and an exasperated sigh substitute for an answer, and Sherlock continues.

“It was sneezing powder, John. Not drugs, simply sneezing powder. No one will sell me anything anymore, remember? I was trying to prove a man’s alibi. Could you call Lestrade and tell him the burglar was not the sister’s husband?”

The statement is followed by a moment of heavy silence before John grumbles, “You absolute idiot,” and trudges out of the room to get the vacuum cleaner and a box of tissues for his sniffling, but decidedly pleased-looking flatmate.

---

Bonus Drabble #3 (Word count: 785)

“Bless you.”

Only the clacking of Sherlock’s fingers on his computer keyboard punctuates the silence following John’s exclamation.

“You’re supposed to say thank you, you know.”

“Why would I do that?” Sherlock inquires, looking up from his laptop for just a second.

“You sneezed and I said bless you. It’s customary to say thank you when someone blesses you.”

“I did not sneeze.”

John opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it, opens it again. “Of course you did! You’ve been sneezing for the past few hours!”

“No I didn’t. Don’t you have something to do, John? How’s that list of Ethiopian restaurants near Trafalgar Square coming along?”

A perplexed look crosses John’s face for a second, then he sighs loudly and says, “Fine. You don’t sneeze. You don’t get colds, not even after running through the pouring rain for two hours and spending the rest of the night in your soaked clothes. Completely normal.”

Sherlock sets his laptop aside and glares at John. “I told you, John. I don’t get ill because of the superiority of the – “

John throws his arms up exasperatedly and interrupts Sherlock, “Yes, mind over matter, I know, you’ve mentioned it. Just … don’t come whining when you need someone to take care of you.” Sherlock doesn’t seem to want to argue, and John is grateful for the temporary peace and quiet so he refrains from pressing the matter.

For some time the only sounds to be heard in the cluttered living room of 221B are a quiet humming coming from Sherlock’s computer and the occasional crinkle of paper from the newspaper John is reading interestedly. The first one to break the silence is Sherlock, who is pinching his delicate nose with two fingers and delivers a quiet, “Nktch-hh!” into his hand. John looks up to find his flatmate rubbing the bridge of his nose, thin lips slightly parted and eyes squinted, clearly on the brink of another sneeze. When Sherlock notices he’s being watched, his expression clears and he drops his hand with a final sniff. But as soon as John turns his attention to his paper again, sure enough he can hear Sherlock stifle another congested sneeze.

“Bless. Do you need a tissue?” John offers, but Sherlock declines and neither of them says anything more.

After a while Sherlock gets up and puts his coat on, still damp and heavy from the night before. Just as he puts his arm through the sleeve, he wrinkles his nose and stifles a completely silent sneeze into the crook of his arm. Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’m going to St. Bart’s to use their microscope for an experiment.”

Two years of sharing a flat with the detective have taught John that Sherlock’s lingering at the door means an invitation for him to come along, so he quickly puts on his jacket and prepares to leave. The congested deeper-than-usual tone of Sherlock’s voice when he explains his experiment prompts John to slip a travel pack of Kleenex into his pocket; and this precaution proves wise when in the taxi Sherlock’s pink nose starts running like a tap.

Without even making eye contact, John gets the tissues out of his pocket and holds them out to his friend, who continues to stubbornly look out of the window and swipes a slender finger under his nostrils.

“Sherlock! Stop sniffing like a three-year-old and blow your nose,” John exclaims, his patience nearly drained by the behaviour of the other man.

“Snf! – I’m fine,” Sherlock mumbles while contradicting his statement with yet another congested sniffle.

Finally deciding it’s not his problem, John gives up and tries to ignore the constant snuffling coming from the tired-looking man to his left.

Raindrops wash over the cab’s window, and the colours of the other cars start to blend to one. Visions of blue skies and fields full of flowers mingle with the oncoming traffic and the grey London afternoon. John’s attention is only brought back to the present by a sudden change in Sherlock’s breathing pattern. His inhales are deep and long, the exhales shallow and stuttering, only interrupted by desperate sniffs trying to stop the sensation. A pale index finger viciously rubs circles on the tip of his nose, but it doesn’t do any good and eventually Sherlock’s face dips into his cupped hands.

“Heh’TSSH! Hhgkrsch! Heh’ASSCHoo! –ughgh …” The messy sneezes were too strong to suppress, just like the little moan that follows them.

“Alright, I admit it. I’ve got a bloody cold. Now can you give me those tissues?!” Sherlock’s irritated voice comes muffled from behind his hands. John complies, but doesn’t stop the smug grin from spreading all over his face.

[AngelEyes]

Oh Sherlock. You idiot. You stubborn silly beautiful mess. LOL!

[VoOs]

Your writing style is so lovely and Sherlock is such an idiot and, and, and...

[squealofapproval]

His shirt buttons thing + the issue they had on set with him being too muscular =

[matilda3948]

Haha! Oh, Sherlock

Thank you for writing these. I love the circle of Sherlock awesomeness we've got going these days.

[HoneyBunny]

Thanks, guys! Your support really means a lot to me. I was working on another longer, more feelings-y drabble, but that ain't gonna happen anytime soon, so I figured in the meantime I'd post another little thing I wrote. Btw, I'd be grateful for prompts and stuff because I'm all out of ideas...

#35: Breath

“I’m not going to sneeze.”

His breath hitched uncontrollably – shallow, wheezing inhales, painfully forced-out exhales and liquid sniffles.

“I didn’t say you would… I just suggested an antihistamine might help.”

Sherlock glared at John. “Don’t need an—hhH—“ Pinching his nose at the last second, he rubbed it up and down ferociously.

John winced sympathetically. “You can just sneeze, you know. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t need toooh—“ Sherlock said determinedly, his breath catching again. The sneezes hit him before he could suppress the urge. “hhH’KSHHh!—eh’tssch—iSCHuuh!”

“I’ll fetch the Clarityn then, shall I?”