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The Time Sherlock Holmes Was Sick - (Secret Santa for Meg Bibbit Fonzarelli!)


tenderwarrior

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SO. I am the worst. This is a few minutes late from the deadline, at least where I live, but I hope that's okay! Plus, it was really hard to choose one of the fandoms you like because I'm not familiar with any of them, but I chose Sherlock and watched the first season of it on Netflix (but hey, now I love the show. IT'S SO GOOD!), so I hope it's okay. I'm not a fan of writing fanfiction in general, not even Glee and I am such an avid fan of that show, because I don't want to mess up any of the characters and have anyone hate me. I hope this is okay and I added The Hobbit at the end because they're both in that movie together. I thought it would be cute. Anyway, if this is dreadful then I am SO, SO, SORRY!

**

John Watson couldn’t help but be surprised when he saw Sherlock fast asleep on the living room couch. The man had papers everywhere; on the floor, on him, and on the few tables in the room. John picked up one of papers on the ground and read it. It was a newspaper article about a suicide that happened just two days ago. Of course, it made sense. It was how Sherlock was.

“Sherlock!”

The brunet immediately woke up with a startled expression, papers falling off his chest. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was asleep at eight. I didn’t know it was my job to.” John watched Sherlock sit up and collect as many papers as he could. “Why didn’t you just go to bed last night?”

Instead of answering his question, John watched as Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. The consultant detective seemed off and just when John was sure that the other man would fall asleep in the position, he opened his eyes. “The red bag!”

John watched as Sherlock stood up with a big grin across his face as if he solved something large, but in reality, he probably did. “Give me your phone.” He said with a sniffle, barely noticeable to both of them.

Watson sighed, but handed his phone away to his colleague and watched him message someone, he’d never know whom. “What red bag and who did you message?” John questioned, going through his messages then looked up at Sherlock who was already working on something else.

“Sherlock, where-?!” But before Watson could even finish his sentence, Sherlock slipped out of their flat leaving John alone once more to clean everything up.

**

“You’re finally home.” John watched from the kitchen with his latop as Sherlock took off his coat and scarf with a dramatic sniffle. “There’s tea on the-”

“I’m dying.”

“What?”

“I’m dying, John. My head. My nose, my throat, my bloody throat.” Sherlock walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and to Watson’s surprise, there was a head stuffed in there. “Not even it will cheer me up.”

“Why is there a head in the refrigerator?!”

“I had to put in somewhere, Watson. What, was I going to display it on the table? Don’t be silly.” He walked past John and back into the living room to lay on the couch. “Are you still writing on your website about how ignorant I am?”

“Let it go!”

And to John Watson’s surprise, instead of a witty remark from Sherlock, he heard a sneeze. A sharp, quick, dry sneeze that seemed very Sherlock, if that made sense. Then another and another.

“Bless you.” John walked into the living room and waited for Sherlock’s response. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“For what?” It only took Sherlock a moment. “Oh, no. The blessing ritual that people seem to be keen on doing is useless. It doesn’t change a thing.”

“I was being polite.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

John sighed once more and headed back to the kitchen to retrieve his laptop. He walked back into the living room to three more of Sherlock’s sneezes. John didn’t even bless him this time around. “You have a cold, Sherlock. You’ll live.”

“A what?”

“A cold. It’s a common virus. Anyway, it doesn’t take a doctor to see that.” John put down his laptop then reached out for Sherlock’s forehead, but the brunet immediately backed his head away from Watson’s hand. “I’m feeling your head to see if you have a temperature because if you barely knew what a cold was, I highly doubt you have a thermometer.”

John’s little rant shut Sherlock up and finally let the doctor feel the brunet’s forehead. “A little. Not much, but that’s what’s expected. Do you want some tea?”

“I’m not thirsty.” Sherlock retaliated as John walked into the kitchen to make two cups of tea. “I’m bored.”

“Of course you are, but this will help your throat.” Watson reasoned as he handed one of the cups to Sherlock. “Trust me.” He sat down on one of the chairs and watched Sherlock expectantly. Better? I can go get some medicine and tissues if you want.”

“I don’t care.” Sherlock hummed and sat up, putting the tea on the coffee table then went to the window, pulling out a gun. Watson’s eyebrows immediately rose in shock and fear.

“No, no, no!” John put down his own cup of tea, stood up and grabbed the gun hastily.

“And why not?”

“Have you seen the wall? The damages you did to it were added to our rent and I don’t want to go through that again!” John huffed and placed the gun back down which got an eye roll out of Sherlock.

“You’re so boring.”

“I’m sure it would it be wise for you to go to sleep, everyone needs plenty of rest when they’re sick.”

“Fi..kish..kish..h’kkish!” Sherlock barely sniffled and headed upstairs without a word, which was new to both of them.

When Watson woke up the following day, Sherlock looked worse than ever. He never thought he would see the day, Sherlock always seemed to have a strong immune system.

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Sherlock was barely understandable with all the congestion that plagued his voice.

“What doesn’t make sense?” John yawned, peering over Sherlock to see what he was working.

“This code. I’ve been up for hours and I can’t.. h’kish! Kish! Kish!!”

“Bless you,” Watson immediately remembered Sherlock’s non-blessing rule and tried to retract. “Er, sorry. You’re not going to solve anything when you’re sick. Your body is overworked, you need rest.”

“Ugh, that seems so boring and you know how I hate that.” Sherlock replied, frustrated, rubbing his temples. “I have a headache anyway. It’s my time to die now, I suppose.” He sighed dramatically and fell onto the couch, lying on it.

“You’re such a drama queen. I’ll go out and get you medicine, okay? Just don’t die when I’m gone.” Watson shrugged on his jacket and slipped on his shoes.

“No promises!” Sherlock stated before Watson walked out the door and when he came back, everything was where it was about twenty minutes earlier which was surprising, considering he was living with the ever-bored Sherlock Holmes of all people.

The brunet seemed to be asleep, so John made his way into the kitchen quietly to put away the medicine until he was pulled away from his thoughts by three dry sneezes. “You’re up.”

“Yes, and feeling worse than ever.” Sherlock mumbled and John actually felt bad for his friend.

“Well, I bought some medicine to help.” John grabbed a capsule from one of the cold medicine boxes and handed it to Sherlock with a glass of water. “Here, do you need anything else?”

“Read The Hobbit to me.”

“What?”

“The Hobbit, you know the book. It’s right there,” Sherlock pointed to the book that sat on the coffee table. “I can’t read myself. I have too much of a headache and I’m bored. You wouldn’t want me to get out the gun again, would you?”

John, feeling defeated, sighed and picked up the book, opening it to the last place Sherlock stopped. He sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace and started reading. It was silly, but Sherlock was right. It was better than the gun.

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This is wonderful, thank you! I love what a baby Sherlock is <3 Ugh, such cute.

It was worth the wait. Thank you again for this! It's lovely!

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Amazing. I am such a Sherlock fangirl right now. Although equally new to it. I too watched it to write for my secret santa this year.

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He... Wants... To read... The HOBBIT?! Oh god this inspired so many feelings...

GAAAH

It's like what.

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Don't you worry about not getting the characters right, because this was absolutely marvellous! :nod: There were so many spot-on moments - like this one, this is totally what they would do on the show! :heart:

“You’re finally home.” John watched from the kitchen with his latop as Sherlock took off his coat and scarf with a dramatic sniffle. “There’s tea on the-”

“I’m dying.”

“What?”

“I’m dying, John. My head. My nose, my throat, my bloody throat.” Sherlock walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and to Watson’s surprise, there was a head stuffed in there. “Not even it will cheer me up.”

It's so cute that Sherlock doesn't really know what a cold is. He probably deleted that information to make room for more important stuff ^-^

And the way you described Sherlock's sneezes? Pure LOVE. I have a thing for fits of three, and his sneezes being quick and sharp is just SO in character.

Anyway, awesome story, and I hope you'll consider writing more fanfic some time! :)

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