Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[matilda3948]

Mary. Such amused patience. He's such a petulant child and she's just like, yeah, yeah Sherlock, get over it, you're stuck with me right now. LOL. I agree with SeniorStatus. Her and John will make brilliant parents after taking care of Sherlock!

Yeah, they're certainly getting to practice with Sherlock

Also, I've decided that grilled cheese is going to be Sherlock's go-to food when he's sick and refusing anything else, a fact that Greg figured out when taking care of Sherlock pre-John.

#16 Dinner for Three

A little over two hours later John came into the Baker St. flat and was met with an endearing, if unusual sight. Sherlock was curled up like a cat, sound asleep with his head resting in Mary’s lap while she played games on her mobile. Mary smiled and held a finger to her lips. John nodded and bent down to give her a kiss before crouching down in front of Sherlock. He frowned when he got a look at his friend. Sherlock was clearly ill and feverish.

“Want some help?” John whispered. Mary nodded and together they eased Sherlock off her lap enough so she could get up and off the sofa. John resituated the blanket and they went into the kitchen.

“He texted and said he was dying,” Mary said.

“Of all the days for me to forget my mobile,” John said. “Sorry you were stuck looking after him. He can be a little…melodramatic when he’s under the weather.”

“I didn’t mind,” she said, patting his arm. “You will need to take a look at him though. He sounds dreadful.”

The man in question was beginning to wake from his nap and “dreadful” seemed to be an understatement. His sinuses were throbbing and his throat was scratchy and hot. He rolled over and the congestion in his head shifted, causing his nose to run. He sniffed twice but that just made the irritation swell into a fierce tickle. Sherlock quickly brought his hands up to his face as he succumbed to the prickling sensation.

heh Ehh…hhSNTSSCHH! NTSCHHTS! NGXTCHH! HehTihhSSHHHooo!

The last sneeze was too strong to restrain and it tore at his throat. Sherlock winced and coughed into his fist.

“Christ, Sherlock! Bless you,” John said as he came back into the sitting room. Mary wasn’t far behind with a glass of water.

“Slow sips,” she said as she handed him the glass. He took a couple swallows of water and the coughing subsided. He took a deep breath and pushed his hair off his face. He was ready for another nap. John gave him a sympathetic frown.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked.

“I’b sick.”

“I can see that,” John said.

“He said he’s been feeling poorly for a few days,” Mary said. “He had a fever when I got here and I gave him cold medicine about three hours ago.”

hhNGSHHCHH! HehSNTCHH! heh huhh…hehAHHKTSSCHHoo!

“Bless you,” John and Mary said. She put the box of tissues on his lap and squeezed his shoulder.

“John’s going to take a look at you and I’m going to get us all something to eat. Anything sound good to you?” she asked. Sherlock shook his head. “Okay. I’ll come up with something,” she said. Mary winked at John and then went out to go pick up dinner for three—two adults, one child.

#51 Lonely

John opened his bag and took out his thermometer and stethoscope. Fever and a faint wheezing.

“Why didn’t you call me two days ago?” he asked. Sherlock shrugged, his universal sign for “I don’t want to talk about it.” John checked his glands and looked at his throat. Swollen and irritated. “You’ve been feeling bad for more than a couple days,” John said.

“Just a cold,” he mumbled.

“It was a cold but now it’s a sinus infection. You know you’re prone to them. You should have called.” John managed to catch Sherlock’s eye for a moment and he sighed. “And I should come by more often,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his head. It had been more than a week since John had seen his friend. He knew Sherlock got lonely—not that he’d ever admit it of course. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.” He waved a hand in John’s direction before ducking his head and sneezing.

hhNTSSCHHoo! hhSNTsschh! hehKTissschh!

“Bless you,” John said. “I’ll call you in some antibiotics. Once the sinus infection clears up you should start feeling better. Want a cup of tea?” he asked, putting his things away. Sherlock nodded. It almost felt like old times. Sherlock moved to his chair, dragging his blanket with him, and flopped down with a wet sniffle. John handed him a cup of hot tea and then sat down in his chair across from him. Conversation was slow and easy. John told Sherlock about how things were going at the clinic and Sherlock talked about cases he’d helped Lestrade with—with a healthy dose of derogatory comments about the stupidity of every other single person he interacted with. He was forced to stop every few minutes to sneeze or cough or blow his nose, making John feel a tug of guilt every time.

“Stop,” Sherlock said after a particularly bad sneezing fit.

“What?”

“Blaming yourself. The only person to blame is the person who gave me this bloody cold…and as soon as I’m well enough to think clearly, I plan on finding out who that is.”

#52 Snuggle

That’s how Mary found them when she came back to the flat. She smiled at how at ease they both seemed even with Sherlock as sick as he was.

“Who’s hungry?” she asked, putting a couple bags down on the table.

hhGNTSSHH! hhSNTsschh! hehKTsshhoo!

“Bless you,” they both said. John got up and went to help Mary.

“I’b not hungry,” Sherlock said.

“Well I’m starving,” said Mary.

“Sherlock, you’ve got to eat,” John said. Sherlock crossed his arms and curled up in his chair. John opened his mouth, but Mary laid a hand on his arm.

“You don’t even know what I brought you yet,” she said.

“Don’t care. Dot huhh…ehh hungry.” Hehngtshhh! NGTSHHH!

“Bless you, Sherlock,” she said. “What if I told you I brought you a grilled cheese sandwich?” He raised an eyebrow. “Had it made special for you at the deli down the corner. A little bird told me it was your ‘sick food’” Sherlock looked at John but he raised his hands.

“Wasn’t me,” he said.

“Greg?” Sherlock asked. Mary nodded.

“Called him to see if there was anything you were likely to eat. You look like the type to lose your appetite when you’re ill.” She put a plate on his lap. “Eat up,” she whispered.

After dinner and a strong dose of cold medicine, the three of them settled on the sofa to watch a DVD. Sherlock was in the middle; John and Mary each had an arm looped behind him with their fingers intertwined. Not even thirty minutes into the movie, Sherlock’s eyes began growing heavy. He sneezed. HehhNTSCHHoo! Yawned. Then sneezed again. HehahhSNSCHHoo!

“Bless you,” they both said. Mary put a pillow on her lap like she had earlier and patted it.

“Come on and lay down,” she said. He gave her a questioning look. “Oh, just put your feet on John. He doesn’t care.” So he snuggled down between his two friends—his head on Mary’s lap and his feet on John’s. She ran her fingers through his hair and checked his forehead for fever one more time. It didn’t take long before Sherlock’s congested snoring was threatening to drown out the movie. John and Mary looked at each other.

“Well the kid’s finally down for the night and it’s only 9:30pm. We have the rest of the night to ourselves.” She winked.

[cally]

Sherlock got Greg's name right? Someone should be making sure his fever isn't too high! (Also, poor Sherlock. )

[Seniorstatus14]

Oh my goodness too cute!

“Well the kid’s finally down for the night and it’s only 9:30pm. We have the rest of the night to ourselves.” She winked

I especially love this part! So adorable!

[AdrianMarx]

Oh gosh, these are lovely. Mary is such a good match for the two of them.

And I can just imagine Greg laughing when Mary asks and remembering how Sherlock would only respond to the offer of a grilled cheese sandwich. Aw. Cuties. (Also, papa!strade is most definitely my weakness.)

[AngelEyes]

“Oh, just put your feet on John. He doesn’t care.” So he snuggled down between his two friends—his head on Mary’s lap and his feet on John’s.

Awwww. These are too cute!

[matilda3948]

Thanks all!! I'm so glad you like the ones with John, Mary, and Sherlock. Such and odd little family Just some shameless hay fever-ie Sherlock tonight

#7 Hands

Hehh huhh…heh. Sherlock’s nostrils widened slightly with each inhalation. His hands were gripping a wrinkled handkerchief just inches from his face. The edges of his nose were tinged pink—a result of the elevated pollen count that caused his hay fever to flare up every spring. The straight line of his nose was interrupted as he scrunched it up with a wet sniffle. It was as if a thousand tiny little moths had made his nose their home. The constant, feathery, tickling was unbearable. His head tilted back as his breath caught again, Adam’s apple bobbing as his mouth went slack.

Ehh…huh Hehh! Again the itch subsided, but not before causing his nose to run and threaten to drip uncontrollably. Sherlock buried his irritated nose in the soft fabric and blew his nose before wiping it roughly of any lingering dampness. The pollen count had to be astronomical that day because his sinuses were swollen and sensitive, causing him to wince and massage the bridge of his nose between his long slender fingers. The tickle that had been torturing his nose all morning suddenly surged and he didn’t even have time to grab for his handkerchief.

huh’ehhKTSSHHH! hhKTSSSHHH!

He caught two desperately wet sneezes in one hand while the other brought the crumpled handkerchief up to his nose, sniffling constantly. His eyelashes were damp with allergic tears and Sherlock didn’t need a mirror to know they were red and swollen. The stinging, gritty feeling that he awoke to that morning was his first indicator that his hay fever was on overdrive.

heh EhhSK’TSHHH hehuhh…Ehh

The crease between his eyebrows deepened as the tickle toyed with his irritated nasal passages. His head tilted back each time he took a tentative, pre-sneeze breath.

Heh huh…heh’AhhKTSSHHH! He doubled over, straightened up, and then took a huge, shuddering breath before finally being overtaken by a fit of harsh allergic sneezes.

heh ehh…HAHH HehAHHKTSSHHH! KTSSHHHoo! EhhTISSSHHHH! hehSTSSSCHHH! hhKTSSSHHH! hhKTSSSHHHooo!

His handkerchief was barely usable afterwards. Sherlock kept it pressed to his streaming nose as he went to the other side of his bedroom and retrieved a fresh one from his bureau. He grimaced in disgust as he swapped out the damp, used cloth for a fresh one. He wiped the allergic tears from his eyes and did his best to blow his nose despite the thick congestion that somehow made his nose both completely blocked and drippy at the same time.

Sherlock dropped back onto his bed and rubbed his eyes with balled up fists. The resulting sting was worth the split second of relief. Every sniff seemed to rekindle the itch in his nose. As illogical as it was, he could swear he could feel the microscopic grains of pollen lodging inside his nose every time he took a breath. Did every tree in the country bloom overnight? He massaged his nose against the back of his wrist, huffing in frustration as his eyes overflowed, dripping down his face. He wiped his eyes and then scrubbed his hands over his entire face. Everything itched and Sherlock was absolutely miserable.

Ahh…huhh heh’AhhKTSSHHH! huh’ehhKTSSHHH! hhKTSSSHHH!

“Bloody hehh ehh hell,” he gasped.

KTSSHHHoo! EhhTISSSHHHH! heh’ahhSTSSSCHHH! hhKTSSSHHH! KTSSHHHoo!

He flopped onto his back, exhausted from sneezing and began calculating how many days until winter.

[cally]

Oh your descriptions, Matilda! I can't even express how perfectly gorgeous this is. Poor, poor Sherlock. He sounds absolutely wretched.

[VoOs]

Ooohhh yes, that's the stuff. :twisted:

[AngelEyes]

Oh my poor dear beautiful miserable boy. So much hotness. I just need to take a break by myself for a while.....

[matilda3948]

Ooohhh yes, that's the stuff.

I had you in mind while I was writing this

Well, since I'm fighting a cold I thought Molly should too. Wish I had an awkward, crushingly beautiful Sherlock to look after me...

#4 Summer

Molly sank down onto her sofa and congratulated herself. She’d decided to take a sick day and stay home and rest. She was fighting a cold and really didn’t want to spend the first few weeks of summer too ill to enjoy it. Since there was nothing pressing at work, she opted for a day of bad television, plenty of tea, and naps. She tucked her feet up underneath her and draped her favorite quilt over her shoulders when there was a knock on her door. Molly wasn’t expecting anyone so she decided to ignore it, but when she heard someone picking the lock to her front door she was on her feet in an instant. Her panic was immediately replaced by anger when she saw Sherlock open the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“You need a better lock. Only took four seconds to pick it.”

“Sherlock, you can’t just break into my house.”

“You weren’t answering your mobile,” he said.

“I turned it off.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be disturbed,” she said feeling her headache starting to gather strength again. Sherlock grimaced and looked over her shoulder.

“Spending the day with another ill-conceived lover? Honestly, your taste in men is dreadful.”

“Clearly,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

ahh Ahh… Ahhktsshh! Tssshh! Kihtssshh! Ahtishhooo! Tiisshhhooo!

“Sorry.” She sniffled and rubbed her nose. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “Just a bit of a cold,” she said.

“Do you want tea?” he asked suddenly. Molly blinked and Sherlock added. “I could make it for you.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah that’d be lovely. Thanks. Let me show you where the—”

“Molly, yesterday I solved a homicide with two cotton fibers and a train schedule. I can find your tea kettle.”

“Right.”

“Go sit down,” he said, nudging her towards her living room.

A few minutes later Sherlock had managed to fix two cups of tea without burning down Molly’s kitchen. He sat down on the other end of the sofa after handing Molly her favorite mug (stored in the front of the cupboard; significant wear on the glaze of the handle from repeated use).

#85 Sniff

“Thags,” she said, taking a couple sips. “So…what was so important that you had to break into my house?”

“The person filling in for you is an absolute moron.”

“George? George is harmless.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Whaahhh…hah hold od…” She pulled the last two tissues from the box next to her and sneezed five times in a row.

ahhTSHHoo! AHHTssshh! Kihtssshh! hah ahh Ahhktsschhoo! AhhKTSHHoo!

“Bless you.” Sherlock checked his pockets eventually finding a clean, if wrinkled, handkerchief. “Here.”

“Thag you.” She lightly blew her nose, then gave a careful sniff to make sure she was done, and then resumed drinking her tea.

“As I was saying, all I needed was a liver and this pathetic excuse of a—”

“There’s a liver in your freezer,” Molly said turning her head and coughing.

“No there isn’t.”

“There is. I put it in there yesterday. Male, 76, donated his organs to research but I didn’t have any pending requests for a liver so I put it in your freezer.” She saw the glint in his eye and was genuinely surprised when he didn’t take off to go play with his new toy.

“Doesn’t change the fact the George is as smart as a teaspoon,” he said. Molly laughed, then coughed, then sneezed.

Ahhtsschh! Tishhoo! ahhKTsschh! Ktsschh! ahhNTSCHHoo!

“Bless you.” Sherlock frowned and reached for his mobile.

“Do dot call John,” she said before blowing her nose.

“I wasn’t going to call him,” he said.

“Don’t text hib either. I’b fide.” He scowled but shoved his phone back into his pocket. She blew her nose again and yawned. She scrolled through several television stations and settled on a true crime program. She braced herself for a stream of derisive comments from Sherlock, but he kept his comments to himself. Molly slid down and curled up on the sofa, her feet near Sherlock’s legs. He rearranged the blanket to make sure her feet were covered, and then rested one hand on top of her ankles. She smiled and yawned. “I may fall asleep,” she said.

“You should.”

Just as she was settling in, her nose began to itch again. She rubbed it against the back of her wrist, sniffled, held a finger underneath, but nothing would stem the tickle.

hhKTsschh! ahtsshhoo! Tishhhoo! ahhNTSHH! hahKtsschhoo!

“Bless you,” he said, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

“Thags Sherlock.”

Molly’s eyes grew heavy. As she drifted off she felt the slow, steady pressure of Sherlock rubbing his thumb against her ankle. Two hours later she woke up alone to find their mugs in the sink and her front door (somehow) locked. She shook her head—only Sherlock could lock a door from the outside.

[cally]

This was too adorable.

“Molly, yesterday I solved a homicide with two cotton fibers and a train schedule. I can find your tea kettle.”

Laughing until the weekend on this line.

I hope you're feeling better even without an awkward Sherlock breaking and entering into your home.

[Seniorstatus14]

Cute! I ship Sherlolly! They are just so perfect for each other!

[SneezyRae]

Whilst I am delighted with all the Sherlock love recently, I can't be the only one checking periodically for some Criminal Minds. Sherlock is fabulous. Love it, but I do so love the way you capture the CM characters

[darkness-is-the-light]

Whilst I am delighted with all the Sherlock love recently, I can't be the only one checking periodically for some Criminal Minds. Sherlock is fabulous. Love it, but I do so love the way you capture the CM characters

I write Criminal Minds. I can give you my stories so you can read them.

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=56206&hl= (Reid, WIP)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=54055&hl= (Drabble thread, WIP)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=55780&hl= (Reid)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=54319&hl= (Hotch, unfinished)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=54163&hl= (Reid)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=53837&hl= (Reid, unfinished)

http://www.sneezefetishforum.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=53518&hl= (Reid, unfinished)

I hope you like these!

[darkness-is-the-light]

I'm sorry for threadjacking Matilda. I'm sorry, I had to. Don't hate me.

[AngelEyes]

Aww. Dear Molly. I still love that he has his own freezer! Cracks me up!

[matilda3948]

Aww. Dear Molly. I still love that he has his own freezer! Cracks me up!

Thanks! I just love these two weirdos. She indulges his craziness and he's protective of "his" pathologist.

I'm sorry for threadjacking Matilda. I'm sorry, I had to. Don't hate me.

No worries, sugar!

Whilst I am delighted with all the Sherlock love recently, I can't be the only one checking periodically for some Criminal Minds. Sherlock is fabulous. Love it, but I do so love the way you capture the CM characters

I know!! I'm sorry! Actually, if a moderator just wants to delete the "Criminal Minds" from the title of my thread that would be awesome. As soon as I'm done with this batch of Sherlock drabbles I am going to go back to Criminal Minds. I just finished the latest season and I definitely have some ideas. I wasn't anticipating getting so caught up in Sherlock-mania, but this last season really got me hooked.

Okay, so I had to play with fetishist Irene a little. I can't help myself

#96 Purr

Huhngsshh! Sherlock sneezed wetly as he made his way up the stairs to his flat. He was exhausted and rather ill. Hehhngtsshh! He knew John would give him the standard lecture later: eat more, sleep, don’t go out chasing criminals when he had a cold, blah, blah, blah. He directed another sneeze towards the ground as he opened the door. HuhNGsshhh!

“God bless you.”

He groaned when he saw Irene Adler sitting on top of his desk, browsing through various files. He glared but didn’t ask the obvious question.

“I had a non-time-sensitive piece of information I thought the British Government might find useful, so the elder Mr. Holmes and I arranged a trade.”

Oh the things Sherlock was going to do to Mycroft when he was well. His retribution would be spectacular against that meddling git. He glanced down when his mobile vibrated.

Let her have her fun, brother dear. The information was worth it. Consider it service to your country. –MH

Piss off! –SH

God bless you, little brother. –MH

huhNGshh! hhSNtsschh!

“Bless you,” Irene purred. She slid down off the desk and came over to Sherlock who was still standing near the front door. She slid her hands underneath his coast, over his shoulders and slipped the jacket off him. Next she tugged the scarf from around his neck and pressed her hand to his forehead. “Poor dear. You are sick, aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes but his disdain was somewhat undercut when he shivered rather violently. “I want you to go upstairs, change clothes, and get into bed,” she said.

“I have work to do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Woman, I—” She pressed a finger to his lips.

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘Yes, Miss Adler’ and I would love it if they were, shut up and go to your room. I’ll be up with tea in a moment.”

He was too tired, too achy, and too chilled to argue with her. When he got to his bedroom he saw that Irene had been busy. She’d cleared all the books, papers, and discarded clothes off his bed, then straightened the pillows and bedding. The blankets were turned down and there was an extra quilt draped over everything. There was a fresh box of tissues on the bedside table as well as a glass of water and a blister pack of cold meds. Sherlock grabbed for the tissues.

HehhngSHH! hhNTSCHH!

He blew his nose and coughed lightly. Sherlock quickly changed into a pair of flannel pants and a hooded sweatshirt Lestrade had lent him once years ago when he was sick. He popped the pills out of their foil backing and picked up the glass of water. He was about to swallow them when he decided to err on the side of caution, taking the cup to the bathroom, pouring out the water, thoroughly rinsing the cup and then refilling it. Irene watched him from the doorway.

#94 Weird

“You don’t trust me?” she asked.

“No.” She tossed her head back and laughed.

“Can’t say I blame you.” She might have seen his eye roll had his eyes not already been fluttering shut in anticipation of yet another sneeze. Irene felt her face flush as she was able to watch his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bridge of his nose wrinkled and his nostrils twitched, hands slowly rising up in front of his face.

HehNTCHH! hhNgtsschh! NTSCHH!

“Bless you,” Irene said, coming into the bathroom and rubbing his back gently. She left her hand there as she felt his breathing catch again.

heh huh…HehhNTSCHH! huhsntschh! Tschhh! ehh huh…HuhhEHHTSSCHHHOO!

After three rapid sneezes, the fourth caused Sherlock to grip the edge of the sink to keep from losing his balance.

“Bless you!” Her voice betraying her excitement. She went up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I’m ordering you to get into bed right now.” How he wanted to have a scathing retort, but his head ached and his limbs were heavy. He drug a hand over his face.

“You’re so incredibly weird,” he said, passing by her and collapsing onto his bed. Irene held out the cup of tea but he just raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” she huffed and took a large sip. “See? Not drugged.” He took the mug and wrapped his hands around it, letting it warm his hands. Irene pulled the blankets up and then slipped out of her heels before sitting on the bed next to him. She put the box of tissues on the bed next to him. She could stare at his nose all day—well, she could stare at his face all day if she was being honest with herself. Today though, the skin around his nostrils was pink and chapped. He must have been sneezing and blowing his nose an awful lot the last couple days, she thought to herself. His eyes were a bit bloodshot and there were dark circles underneath them. “You haven’t been sleeping enough,” she said.

#29 Kink

“You sound like John.”

“Luckily I’m much better looking.” He tried to hide his smile behind his cup but she saw anyway. It wasn’t the only she noticed though and she grabbed a couple tissues from the box, swapping them out for the tea.

heh ehh…huhNTSHH! hehNTSHHoo!

“Bless you.” He just shook his head.

hehntsschhh! Tsschhoo! huhEHnntsschh!

“Mmm…bless you,” Irene whispered. He blew his nose in the crumpled tissues and she had another handful waiting for him Sherlock grabbed them and quickly brought them to his nose.

HehhNTSCHHoo! huhehhTSSCHHHoo! hehh…huh hehhGKSHH! KTSSCHH! hehAHHKTSSSHHHHOOO!

The ferocity of the last sneeze seemed to surprise them both, making each of them want to moan—though for entirely different reasons. Sherlock settled for a nose blow that immediately dissolved into an uncomfortable cough. Irene handed him his tea and brushed the dark curls off his face.

“Bless you, Sherlock. You need to rest. You really do sound unwell.” He slid down in the bed but his eyes kept searching her face.

“Is this part of it for you?” he asked.

“Is what part of it?”

“The nurturing—making tea, getting blankets, that sort of thing. Is that part of your kink?”

She smiled. The truth? Perhaps a little, but not with him. It was different with him—it was always different with Sherlock Holmes. Oh, his sneeze was a thing of beauty and something she shamelessly treated herself to on rare occasions, but taking care of him stirred something completely different…but something completely taboo in Irene Adler’s world. So she answered the only way she could.

“Absolutely,” she hummed. “Having you in bed, weak and reliant on me? Mmm…simply delicious.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. She was lying. That was…interesting. Before he had a chance to question her or even consider the implications, Irene traced a manicured fingernail along the bridge of his nose, a wicked grin on her face. He batted her hand away but the damage was already done.

HehhNTSCHH! huhsntschh! Tschhh! hehKTSHHOO!

She handed him a couple tissues and patted his chest through the blankets.

“Bless you.”

[cally]

Okay, so I had to play with fetishist Irene a little. I can't help myself

I am so glad that you wrote this. I love how you capture the essence of both of them, especially grumpy, sick Sherlock.

[HoneyBunny]

Matilda, you've outdone yourself this time! Lovedlovedloved everything about this drabble. (And I loved your other ones as well of course, especially caretaker!Lestrade, but this one was simply the best.)

a hooded sweatshirt Lestrade had lent him once years ago when he was sick

I see what you did there! That's a reference to one of your other drabbles, isn't it?

The ferocity of the last sneeze seemed to surprise them both, making each of them want to moan—though for entirely different reasons.

Irene darling, you're not the only one who's moaning for a different reason.

Oh, his sneeze was a thing of beauty and something she shamelessly treated herself to on rare occasions, but taking care of him stirred something completely different…but something completely taboo in Irene Adler’s world.

I just love this line, maybe because it shows that Irene isn't just all about sex and that she occasionally has a maternal instinct like normal people.

Excuse me while I reread this 12 more times.

[AngelEyes]

Lovely!

[matilda3948]

I'm so glad other people like Irene! She's so bad awesome And now for something completely and totally different...and angsty

#54 Waiting

Greg pulled up in front of the dive bar. It was after two in the morning when the owner called and said that he had a very drunk customer refusing to leave. When the owner threatened to call the police, the man told him to call Greg Lestrade. So, despite being sound asleep after a grueling day of work, Greg drug himself out of bed and drove across town.

“Been waiting for almost an hour to close up,” the bar owner said when Greg got out of his car. “He’s been here all night.” He held the door open and Greg walked into the dimly lit bar to find a very drunk John Watson with his head resting in his hands. Greg sighed and ran a hand over his face. He knew John wasn’t handling Sherlock’s death well and he suddenly felt guilty for not reaching out to him more over the last couple of months.

“Hey John,” Greg said, resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You okay?” When he got no answer he pulled out his wallet, dropped some money on the bar, and tugged on John’s arm. “Come on, mate. Time to go.” Slowly, John stood up and swayed slightly before suddenly sneezing towards the floor.

huhHahhGNTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” Greg said as John sniffled wetly.

“He’s been doing that all night.” The bar owner’s patience looked like it was at its end and Greg did his best to herd John towards the door.

“Thanks for calling me,” Lestrade said. He didn’t wait for a reply and just focused on getting John into the car. Greg started the engine and turned the heat up before focusing his attention on John. He turned on the car's overhead light and immediately frowned. “Christ, John. You look bloody awful.” Greg wasn’t even sure his words were registering; he wondered exactly how much John had had to drink that night. Just before he asked that very question, John’s expression suddenly changed and he sneezed into the bend of his arm.

huhahhSSHHHoo! HuhhTSCHHHooo!

“Bless you,” Greg said, reaching over and opening the glove box, hoping he had a tissue or napkin or something he could offer John. He found a travel pack of tissues and pulled a couple out, handing them to John who was sniffling and staring out the car window. Worry lines were set deep in Greg’s forehead as he watched his friend. “Let me take you home. You’ll feel better once you’re in bed,” he said. He went to put the car in drive but realized he didn’t know where John was currently living. “You still at Baker Street?” he asked. Greg’s felt a sinking feeling in his chest when he saw John visibly wince at the words “Baker Street.”

“Left the day he died. Never been back.” It was the first time John had uttered a word since Greg had arrived and it only caused the silver haired man to worry even more. John’s voice was rough and deeper than usual, though it was impossible to say whether it was alcohol or illness causing it—he suspected some of both.

“How about my place then?” Lestrade said, pulling onto the road. It was more a rhetorical question at this point. There was no way he was letting John out of his sight while he was in this state and he knew he had everything he’d likely need at his own house.

#40 Suffer

The rest of the drive was nearly silent, interrupted only by John’s frequent sniffling, throat clearing, and an occasional sneeze. Greg helped haul him inside and eased John down onto the sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He switched the kettle on, poured John a large glass of water and then went and grabbed a bottle of asprin, a box of tissues, and a blanket and pillow. When he came back into the living room John was still sitting there in his coat, staring off into space. Greg switched on a couple lamps and put everything down on the coffee table. He handed John two pills and the glass of water. “You need to drink all of that or you’re going to have one hell of a hangover,” he said. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a second and then you can get some sleep.” At least John was an obedient drunk. He swallowed the pills and drank the water. When Greg came back he handed John a warm mug of tea, then sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him and sipped his own. He finally got a good look at John. Grief had not been kind to him. He was pale and his skin had a sickly grey pallor to it. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles underneath. Looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in quite a while. If he had to guess, Greg would say he probably hadn’t bothered to shave in a couple days either. John’s nose began to itch and Greg noticed the impending sneeze before John did making Greg wonder (once again) exactly how much the younger man had consumed that night. He took the cup from John’s hands and exchanged it for a handful of tissues.

Huh…hehh huh HihhMFTSHHHooo! huhhFTSSCHHHHooo!

“Bless you.”

John nodded and blew his nose. When he looked up he was met with a pair of very worried eyes.

“I’m so sorry, mate,” Greg said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left you to suffer through this on your own. I know you said you wanted space, but I should have known better.” A tremor shook through John’s body and he stood up.

“Don’t,” he whispered and took a couple steps towards the door. Greg stayed right behind him.

“John, where are you going? Come on. Sit back down. You’re not well and, honestly, more than a little drunk.” John coughed into his fist and Greg cringed as the sound. He tried again. “Come on, John. You need to rest. I know you’re upset but Sherlo—” He didn’t even get the name out of his mouth before John spun around, fist cocked. But he was so slow and so unsteady that Greg easily dodged the punch, grabbed John’s arms and pinned them at his side. “Hey. Easy…easy, John.” When he felt the fight leave the doctor’s body, Greg moved his arms up and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling John towards him. “You’re okay,” he mumbled, tightening the hug. He could feel John’s whole body shaking and radiating heat. “It’s alright. Everything’s going to be okay.” He kept repeating little reassurances as guided John back to the sofa and eased him down. “It’s just the fever and the alcohol and the grief, John. You’re going to be alright.”

“Not sure I am,” he managed before sneezing.

huhAHHTSSCHHHHoo! hhSNTSHHHHooo! huhhAHHGNSHHHooo!

“Bless you.”

huhahhSSHHHoo! HuhhTSCHHHooo!

“And again,” Greg said. John managed to grab some tissues before and catch the last sneezes of his fit.

Huh…hehh huh ahhMFTSHHHooo! huhhFTSSCHHHHooo!

“Bless you, John!”

The sneezing attack seemed to take John’s last bit of energy. After blowing his nose he curled up on the sofa and shivered. Greg spread the blanket over him and put his hand across John’s forehead—not high enough to worry but certainly high enough to make John uncomfortable.

“Try and get some sleep, huh? I’m just down the hall if you need anything.” John’s eyes were already closed but as he got up to leave he heard John call his name.

“Greg? Thank you.”

[Spoo]

Ohhhh, my heart. I wasn't at all prepared for this. Guhhhh. I want to hug John as well, the poor thing. Papa!Lestrade to the rescue again! He's such a caring man.

[SneezyRae]

Do I detect a slight hint of guilt for not looking after him Greg? Don't worry. Looks like you've plenty of opportunity to make it up to poor John.

You write so well. That really tugged at my heartstrings

[cally]

My heart is totally breaking here. Poor John. (Spoo and Rach said everything so much more eloquently!)

[Seniorstatus14]

Ouch! Right in the feels! Such an amazing piece, but I don't think I was emotionally prepared enough to handle that trauma.