Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[cally]

“Hmm.” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. He went back to the corpse and pulled a handkerchief out of the man’s pocket. “Here.”

LMAO OMG Sherlock!

Awwwww Mycroft being all sweet!

[AngelEyes]

Love Sherlock commandeering the corpses handkerchief and Greg so Horrified! LOL!

“Messaged and said to come collect you. He must have been worried.” When Greg scoffed, Mycroft continued. “Contrary to what you may think, he doesn’t interfere without reason. Since he’d already solved the case, the only reason I can deduce is concern for your wellbeing.”

He really does care. In his own way.

[SneezyRae]

Poor poor Greg. I want a nice wooly scarf that smells of Mycroft too

[matilda3948]

Poor poor Greg. I want a nice wooly scarf that smells of Mycroft too

Right?? Me too A little more sick Greg tonight.

#76 Bath

Greg managed to doze off on the drive back to their townhouse. Mycroft didn't even try to hide his concern as he watched the older man sleep. He hated to see Gregory uncomfortable and, based on the shade of his nose and the way chills continued to shiver through his body, he was certainly not feeling well. He looked so much worse than he had that morning. As the car neared the house, Mycroft reached over and brushed his hand against the side of Greg's face.

"Time to wake up, Gregory," he said quietly. Slowly those brown eyes he loved so much fluttered open and a smile tugged at the sick man's lips.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep on you," he said with a sniffle.

"Think nothing of it. You clearly need the rest."

huhhRahhNGSHHH! huhhNTSCHHHOOOO!

"God bless you."

"Ugh. Thag you." Greg picked up the handkerchief Mycroft had given him earlier and gave his nose a thick blow. Both men exited the car when it pulled up in front of the house. "I'b glad we're home," he said, wiping his nose and shoving the cloth back into his pocket.

"As am I," Mycroft said. He hung up his coat first and then took Greg's from him. The second he shed his jacket he shivered violently. Mycroft wrapped his arms around his detective inspector and kissed his forehead. "You've got a terrible chill, Gregory. May I run you a warm bath?" Greg sank into the hug and rested his aching head on Mycroft's shoulder.

"You'd be joining me, right?"

"Obviously. Can't leave you alone in this state," the British government said with a smirk.

#32 Double

Greg leaned back against Mycroft and sighed as the warm water finally started to make some headway at chasing away the chills he’d been fighting for the last several hours.

“Thag you, love. This is just what I deeded.”

“Feeling warmer?” Mycroft asked, drying his hand on a towel and grabbing the handkerchief he’d put on the side of the tub.

“Buch.”

“Here. You sound dreadful.” He handed Greg the towel first, then the handkerchief. Blowing his nose may have helped make his speech a bit crisper, but it also made his nose tickle.

huh Huh…huhRAHHngssshhhooo! hhRuhhsnsshhhOOO!

The harsh double splashed water up to the sides of the bathtub.

“God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft kissed the back of his lover’s neck but he wasn’t done.

huhRAHHssschhhooo! HuhhSSSHOOOOO! huh Huhh huh RAHHNDSSCHHoooo!

“God bless you again.”

huhhRahhNGSHHH! huhhNTSCHHHOOOO!

“And again! My apologies. I had no idea blowing your nose would set off such a sneezing fit.” Mycroft kissed Greg’s bare shoulder as he blew his nose several times before answering.

“Not your fault, love. Sadly, I do think I better get out before the next round starts. This,” he gestured to the wadded up handkerchief, “is beyond useless now.”

They got out of the tub and dried off. Greg dressed in flannel pajamas and yawned as he was buttoning up the top. Mycroft took over and quickly fastened the final buttons then nudged Greg towards the bedroom.

“Unfortunately I have some work to do this evening,” Mycroft said as he turned down the blankets. “Will I disturb you if I work on it in bed?”

“Not at all,” Greg said, sinking down onto the bed. “I’d much rather have you here with me. Plus, I’m so tired I think I could sleep through about anything.” Mycroft nodded and handed him several clean handkerchiefs.

“I’ll be back with my laptop and tea.”

HuhhRahhSCHHOOO! huhRHAHHHsschhooo!

“God bless you. And cold medicine.”

Ten minutes later Mycroft came back with his computer and two cups of tea. He smiled fondly at the sight that met him. Gregory was curled up on his side, sound asleep with a handkerchief still clutched in his hand, snoring lightly. After putting everything down, he pressed his hand to Greg’s forehead. Since he didn’t have a fever he decided against waking him just to take medicine. After all, the goal was sleep so Mycroft sat on his side of the bed, opened his laptop, and split his time between working and watching his lover sleep.

[cally]

Oh poor, poor Gregory. What a dreadful cold. Good thing he has such a loving partner to care for him.

[AngelEyes]

After all, the goal was sleep so Mycroft sat on his side of the bed, opened his laptop, and split his time between working and watching his lover sleep.

Poor dear Gregory. I love that Mycroft likes to watch him sleep. It's sweet an adorable.

[matilda3948]

Hi all! Been on vacation for a bit but I'm back and totally relaxed.

These drabbles are all part of one long allergic Sherlock self-indulgent bit of fetish goodness story.

#3 Cat

“We could get a cat,” John said.

“Why on earth would we want a cat?” Sherlock asked without slowing down his frantic typing.

“Might be fun to have a pet.”

“No.”

“No it wouldn’t be fun or no to a cat?” John asked.

“No to both.”

“What’s your issue with having a pet?” Sherlock sighed and shut his laptop, staring at John for a moment.

“I’ve no issue with having a pet. I have a number of issues with constantly sneezing, sniffling, and itching.”

“You’re allergic?” John asked.

“Brilliant as always, Doctor.”

“Sorry, it just seems so…so ordinary.” John smirked and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“We all have our burdens to bear.”

“Your allergy’s that bad, huh?”

“Not as bad as Mycroft’s,” Sherlock said with a slight smile. “Tea?” he asked. John got up and made his way to the kitchen.

“I suppose I don’t need two animals to take care of,” he mumbled.

#87 Induce

A few months later John got to witness Sherlock’s cat allergy in action. Lestrade had called them to the house of an elderly widow found strangled. Lestrade was talking to the housekeeper who had discovered the body while Sherlock examined the scene. He crouched down on the floor and looked under the bed when something caught his eye. He scrambled to his feet, wrinkling his face in disgust.

“What’s wrong?” John asked. Sherlock had just sniffed a two day old corpse five minutes ago—it was hard to imagine anything that could repulse him. Seconds later a large, black cat came out and hopped up on the bed, flicking her tail back and forth. Sherlock nodded towards the cat and took several steps backward. “Oh, right,” John said. He came around with the intent of shooing the cat off the bed when it leapt onto the bureau right next to Sherlock.

“Bloody things always go for the person that hates them the most,” Sherlock mumbled. John could already hear a tinge of congestion is his friend’s voice. Sherlock rubbed his nose against his wrist, already feeling the effects of the cat’s presence. From the moment he’d entered the house, the microscopic flecks of cat hair and dander had begun to trigger his body’s allergic response. While he’d only started to feel the effects in the last minute or two, he knew he was well past the point of no return. His eyes had that telltale gritty feeling in the corners, his throat was irritated, and his nose was beginning to run. He sniffed and rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth—also itching like mad. Of course, these were all the precursors to “the main event.” Sherlock knew he was only moments away from the ticklish, prolonged sneezing fits that exposure to cats always induced. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?” John asked, a worried frown on his face.

“Ahh…allergic,” he managed before stifling a couple sneezes against his wrist.

hhNGTss! NTShh! ahhKTSHH!

“Bless you,” John said. Sherlock just shook his head, knowing he was nowhere near done.

ahhGNTchh! NG’TSCHH! hhNKTsschh!

“Bless you,” John said again. When Sherlock opened his eyes John noticed how red and watery they’d already become. He was about to suggest they leave when Greg came into the bedroom.

“Any theories on—Oh, Christ. I didn’t know she had a cat,” he said the moment he caught sight of the consulting detective. “Sorry Sherlock.” He got a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to him. Sherlock sneezed twice before he had a chance to grab it.

hhNTSHH! huhGNSSHH!

“Bless you,” both men said. Sherlock grabbed the handkerchief and blew his nose.

hehNTSCHH! hhNGTss! NTShh!

#75 Disproportionate

“You need to take him home,” Greg said to John.

“You’ve seen him like this before? His reaction seems to be a bit disproportionate to his exposure”

“He’s horribly allergic to cats.”

“I’b standing right here,” Sherlock said, glaring over the top of the handkerchief. He sniffled wetly and didn’t dare lower the cloth just yet. His nose was on fire and everything from the neck up itched.

ahh…Ahh hhNTSHH! ahhGNTchh! hhNKTsschh!

“Bless you, Sherlock. Come on,” John said. Sherlock held up a finger and paused near the door. He wiped his nose and his eyes before popping up the collar of his jacket. He wanted to make a swift and quiet exit through the crime scene. He’d made it to the front door when he turned suddenly and approached the housekeeper. His eyes may have been bloodshot and swollen but they were still sharp as he observed the woman. He grabbed her right hand and leaned down to look at it.

“She’s your killer,” he said. “You’ll find the rope she used—” He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes, concentrating on forcing the tickle to back down. “—under her bed. Nylon based on the micro-cuts to her hands.” With that he was gone, coat swishing behind him.

Lestrade hailed a cab and opened the door. John slid in first, Sherlock stopping to sneeze before he could follow.

hhNTSSCHH! ahhNGTSS! NGTSHH! KTSHH!

“Bless you,” Greg said. “I’m really sorry I didn’t notice the cat, Sherlock.” He waved off the older man’s concern.

“You didn’t know.”

Greg frowned as the car pulled away—Sherlock passing up an opportunity to call him an idiot was troubling. He must really be feeling bad.

#26 Dog

Sherlock pinched his nose in the handkerchief and leaned his head against the cool glass of the cab window. He just wanted to stop sneezing…and sniffling and itching and tearing up every five seconds. John glanced at his friend and his worry deepened. Sherlock looked miserable even sitting there silently.

“Are you okay?” John asked quietly. “I mean, apart from the obvious of course.” Sherlock nodded but didn’t dare open his mouth. He was afraid talking—even breathing—would set off another sneezing fit. “I’ll get you an antihistamine as soon as we get back to Baker Street.” Sherlock nodded again. Sadly, he may have been able to avoid talking, but breathing eventually became a necessity. Despite taking a couple shallow breaths through his mouth, Sherlock felt the tickle in his nose swell. He gasped and did his best to stifle the sneezes, the first few barely noticeable except for the jerk of his head.

hhNT! GNT! NGTS!

The tickle was proving to be relentless, forcing Sherlock to repeat the process once again.

ahhTSHH! KTssschh! Ktsschh! KTSCHH!

“Bless you, Sherlock,” John sighed. There was little more he could do in the back of the cab.

hehh Ahh…hhNTSCHH! KTSCHH!

Sherlock blew his nose and leaned his head back sighing. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to sniff, making a pathetic thick squelching noise that made John wince.

“Your hardline No Cat Policy makes a lot more sense now,” John said. “How do you feel about a dog?” He smiled when he saw the corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitch.

#49 Tease

When they finally made it to Baker Street, Sherlock immediately dropped down onto the sofa.

“I’ll be right back,” John said. He ran upstairs and grabbed some allergy medication and a box of tissues. When he came back down he found Sherlock still struggling with the troublesome allergy attack that had been dragging on for nearly an hour. “Here. I’ll get you a glass of water.” John handed him the pills and Sherlock swallowed them dry. John raised an eyebrow but Sherlock just shrugged.

“Sooner I take theb the hehh ahh…the sooner this stobs.” He managed to finish his sentence while grabbing for the tissues, clutching several in his large hands and doubling over.

ahhNTssschhhoo! huhktsssschhhooo! ahhNDSSHHHooo!

“Bless you! Christ, you really were holding them back before, weren’t you?”

hehTSSHHHooo! hhNGTSSSCHH!

“Yes, well hehh AHH…this isn’t exactly how I like people hahh ahh to see me…Ahh…” He struggled to talk as the tickle continued to tease his nose—not quite enough to actually sneeze but certainly enough to make him feel miserable and look ridiculous. He opened his eyes long enough to give John a pitiful glance. “Tea?” he asked. Even if a well-timed tear hadn’t escaped his red eyes and rolled down his face, John would have agreed…but it did and it was utterly pathetic.

“Of course,” John said.

hehhAHHKT’SSHHHoooo! huh Ahhktsssschhhooo! ahhGNSSHHHooo!

“Bless you,” he called, switching on the kettle.

[Seniorstatus14]

AWWWW!! Poor Sherlock! I just want to give him a big hug...possibly because the majority of my clothes are covered in cat hair. Hehehehe!

[cally]

Awwwwww bless him the poor thing.

[SneezyRae]

Oh poor sherlock. Here kitty kitty, come and help me give poor sherlock a hug

[AngelEyes]

Mmmmm. Delicious! I can not express my delight in this thread!

[VoOs]

You put the poor man through such misery.

I love it.

[matilda3948]

THANKS!! A little something before bed

#34 Smoke

“Hmm. John owes me dinner,” Sherlock said, coming up beside Lestrade. "Knew you were smoking again." Greg rolled his eyes and took a long drag off his cigarette.

“Shut up, Sherlock.” There was little heat in his voice though—if anything Greg sounded weary and defeated. He sniffled and cleared his throat.

“Why so glum? We caught the guy,” Sherlock said. Greg practically exploded with rage.

“Sure we caught him but only after he killed another girl! Do you know what it feels like to have to inform parents that their child was murdered? No! Of course you don’t because you don’t have any bloody human emotions! We can’t all be robots, Sherlock!” By the time he finished shouting all the fight seemed to leave Greg’s body and leaned against the brick wall, struggling to get his emotions back in check. Sherlock’s face remained impassive but he too leaned against the wall, his shoulder very nearly touching Greg’s. They stayed silent for a moment before Greg turned to the side and sneezed.

HuhRahhSHHoo! HuhhTSSCHHooo!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Thanks.” Greg sniffled wetly then rubbed a hand over his weary face. “Listen, Sherlock I’m sorry about what I said before.” Sherlock waved a hand in dismissal.

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not fair to take my anger out on you, mate.”

“Better me than someone who cares—benefits to being a robot,” Sherlock said. Greg looked at him ready to apologize when he saw the corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitch.

huhAhhTSSCHHoo! RahhSTSSHHHooo! huhTSSCHHooo!

“Christ! Sorry,” Greg said.

“You should go home,” Sherlock said. Greg sighed.

“Gotta finish processing this scene first. I just…just needed a few minutes.”

“Are you going to share?” Sherlock asked, nodding towards his cigarette.

“Thought you quit?”

“Special circumstances,” he said quietly. Greg nodded and handed over the pack and his lighter. Sherlock lit it and took a deep drag, slowly exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

“Hey? You okay after all of this?” Greg asked. Sherlock hesitated for just a second.

“Don’t be stupid, Graham.”

#55 Frost

Sherlock stared out the sitting room window picking out a melancholy tune on his violin. He’d lost track of how long he’d been standing there, but the frost on the windows had finally melted in the morning sun. He put the violin down with a frustrated huff and roughly ran his fingers through his hair before grabbing his coat and heading out and hailing a cab.

Lestrade sat at his desk trying to work on the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated while he was working this last case. His head was pounding and there was a dull ache in his sinuses making it incredibly difficult to focus. Plus his nose was constantly tickling, always threatening to erupt in a fit of sneezes. In short, he felt miserable.

“Doesn’t the Yard usually give you a couple days off after a homicide case?”

Greg looked up to see Sherlock leaning against the doorframe in his office. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Of course, his nose chose that moment to embarrass him even further.

HuhRahhSHHoo! huhNSHHHoo!

If, instead of trying to fight off another sneeze, Greg had opened his eyes he would have seen Sherlock frown and narrow his eyes in something akin to concern.

huhRAHHsschhoo! RuhhAHHSHHHoo!

“I’m quite certain the Yard gives you sick days,” he said coming into the office and sitting in the chair across from the older man. Greg grabbed a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, earning a disgusted grimace from Sherlock.

“What do you want?” Greg asked.

“Well, I assumed since you’re here there must be something incredibly urgent. A new case perhaps? Jewel thief? Art heist? Escaped convict threatening a unicorn and rainbow factory?”

“Sorry to disappoint but it’s just paperwork,” Greg said, clearing his throat.

“You mean to say all you have is your incredibly pedestrian paper pushing responsibilities?” Sherlock asked.

“Afraid so.”

“Then why aren’t you at home?”

Damn. Greg hated when he walked into one of Sherlock’s traps…and he really should have seen that one coming.

huh Huhh HuhRAHHssshhooo! hhRAHHSHHHooo!

“Bless you.”

“Thags.” Greg rubbed his forehead.

“You are going to dream about her,” Sherlock said quietly, those intense eyes fixed on Greg’s pale face.

“Sorry? What?”

“You clearly feel unwell but resist going home to rest. Most people jump at the opportunity to stay home and sleep when they’re sick but you’re here slogging through case reports. You’re afraid of what you’re going to see when you close your eyes—afraid you’re going to revisit the last case in your sleep.” Greg felt a lump in his throat as Sherlock continued to talk. “You will dream about it—about her. The only question is when. You can fight sleep for another two days, making yourself even more ill until your body forces you to sleep, but the dreams are still going to be there. Whether you sleep today, tomorrow, or next week it’s waiting for you. Since you’ve clearly got a cold, only an idiot would delay resting any longer.” It may have been a typical Sherlock deduction, but the tone was much softer than Greg was used to. It wasn’t helping him keep his emotions in check; frankly, he might have preferred Sherlock busting in, calling him a moron, and going about his day. Greg brought the crumpled handkerchief up to his nose, catching several exhausted sounding sneezes in the fabric.

huhRahhMSHHoo! hhRuhhSHHHF! huhruhhhMFSSHHHOO!

“Bless you.”

“Thag you.” When Greg lifted his head both men pretended his eyes were wet and red-rimmed on account of his cold.

“Home,” Sherlock said firmly. Greg nodded and gathered his things, Sherlock matching him stride for stride as they made their way out of the building. Suddenly Sherlock stopped and faced Greg. “Just ask,” he said.

“Ask what?”

“Whatever it is that you’ve been debating asking me since we left your office.”

“After we left the scene last night…did you…have you slept yet?” Greg asked. Sherlock sighed.

“Not yet,” he said.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

oh.

These were...I swear I mean this as a GOOD thing...they weren't even sneezefics to me. They were perfect microcosms of Sherlock & Lestrade's relationship, full of insight into the "real" Sherlick he hides from the world. Brava.

[cally]

Wow. I, I can't even find words to express how I feel about these. I honestly think these are the best ones you've ever written. Myownprivatesfc is absolutely right. They are perfect microcosms. I bow down to you. <3

[mystic-chibi]

Ahhhh I absolutely loved #54! I can totally see the part about the cigarettes happening in an episodes.

[Spoo]

:cry:

Omg, I want to hug Greg and pet his silvery hair and tuck him into bed. The poor man! Haunted by that girl... Guhhh. My headcanon is that Greg has kids (two little girls specifically) from his previous marriage, so when there's a case involving children it's always exceptionally difficult for him.

And Sherlockkkk. Wanting to make sure Greg was okay. Just like Greg so often did in the past when Sherlock had his drug problems. UGH MY HEARTTTT.

So beautifully written, matilda.

[matilda3948]

Omg, I want to hug Greg and pet his silvery hair and tuck him into bed. The poor man! Haunted by that girl... Guhhh. My headcanon is that Greg has kids (two little girls specifically) from his previous marriage, so when there's a case involving children it's always exceptionally difficult for him.

And Sherlockkkk. Wanting to make sure Greg was okay. Just like Greg so often did in the past when Sherlock had his drug problems. UGH MY HEARTTTT.

So beautifully written, matilda.

Thank you! Poor thing--he's had a rough couple days.

Wow. I, I can't even find words to express how I feel about these. I honestly think these are the best ones you've ever written. Myownprivatesfc is absolutely right. They are perfect microcosms. I bow down to you. <3

You're so sweet I'm very glad you liked them!

oh.

These were...I swear I mean this as a GOOD thing...they weren't even sneezefics to me. They were perfect microcosms of Sherlock & Lestrade's relationship, full of insight into the "real" Sherlick he hides from the world. Brava.

That's a lovely complement. Thank you so much.

Ahhhh I absolutely loved #54! I can totally see the part about the cigarettes happening in an episodes.

It's got to be a rough day to break out the cigarettes.

I'm truly humbled by your responses. I'm so glad I'm still writing things that are interesting after 150+ drabbles I'm going to keep working with this storyline tonight. Greg and Sherlock needs some TLC from their respective caretakers after such a rough case.

#81 Confess

“Good evening, Mr. Holmes,” Anthea said as her boss got into the car. He’d just returned from a top secret (even by his standards) conference. He hadn’t even been permitted to use his mobile while he was there.

“Anthea,” he greeted.

“I trust your trip went well.”

“Well enough. I confess I am glad to be back though. It was disorienting to be so disconnected.”

“It was only 48 hours, sir.”

“Said the woman who is permanently attached to her Blackberry,” he said. Anthea smirked and then held a folder out to her employer. Before letting go, she said,

“This is what Detective Inspector Lestrade has been working on in your absence. Thought you should know as soon as possible.”

Mycroft scanned the contents of the folder—newspaper clippings and police reports about the child homicide case. He frowned deepened as he read.

“Have you spoken to him?” he asked.

“No, sir. I stopped by his office but he’d already gone home. Since you were due to arrive tonight I thought I would let you handle it yourself.”

The house was quiet when Mycroft got inside. He dropped his things and immediately went upstairs to the master bedroom. Gregory was huddled under the blankets, crumpled tissues littering the floor, and an empty tea cup on the bedside table.

“My poor love,” Mycroft sighed. He sat on his side of the bed and watched his lover sleep. A frown was etched on Greg’s face and there were stress lines across his forehead. It was clearly an uneasy sleep. Mycroft kissed Greg on the forehead—perhaps a bit warm. Greg’s head jerked to the side and he made an odd choked noise. “It’s okay,” Mycroft said quietly. “Everything’s okay now.” Suddenly Greg starteled awake, gasping and then promptly coughing harshly. “Oh, Gregory. Come on, sit up.” He helped ease the silver haired man into a sitting position and the coughing soon died down. Once he was able to take a breath, Greg realized that Mycroft was back, sitting next to him on the bed. He tried to smile but it dissolved into a choked sob. Mycroft wrapped his arms around him and Greg rested his head against Mycroft’s chest.

“I’b sorry,” he sniffed. “This last case was…”

“I know, love. Anthea informed me as soon as I arrived. I am so sorry, Gregory” He felt the older man shudder.

“So glad you’re home.”

“As am I.”

As much as Greg wanted to stay curled up against Mycroft’s body, he could feel his nose beginning to itch. He waited until the last possible second before pushing back and turning his head.

HuhRahhSHHHoo! RuhhSSHHoo! Huh hhRUHHssschhhooo!

“My goodness. God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft got his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him.

“Thag you.” He blew his nose and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry I was neither here nor accessible the last few days,” Mycroft said.

“S’fine. I’m just glad you’re here now. I’d ask how your trip was but I know you can’t tell me.”

“No, I cannot. But I am—” He stopped when Greg held up a hand, his face taking on his familiar pre-sneeze exp<b></b>ression. He brought the handkerchief up a few inches from his face as his eyes fluttered shut, mouth going slack.

Huh ehhuhh Huh…HuhhPTSHHooo! huhRahhMFSSHH! hhRuhhSHHMF!

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thahhuhh…huhRahhMNSSHHoo! HUHrahhSSHHOOO!”

“God bless you again. If you don’t mind me saying, you sound dreadful.”

“I feel dreadful,” Greg admitted, clearing his throat loudly. “I think it’s a good thing Sherlock chased me out of the office today.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow in question. “How about some tea and I’ll fill you in?” Greg said.

“As long as it’s accompanied by some cold medicine and something to eat. I know you haven’t eaten well—if anything—while working this case.” Greg dropped his eyes.

“Not sure I can stomach anything quite yet,” he said quietly. Mycroft frowned; this case must have really hit Gregory hard.

“Very well,” he said. Greg looked up with surprise—he was expecting a fight about eating. Mycroft’s eyes softened and he cupped Greg’s face. “I just to make you as comfortable as possible tonight. We can revisit eating tomorrow.”

#80 Clinic

Sherlock yawned and pulled his dressing gown tighter around his thin body.

NGK’tschh! hehKTCHH!

He sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, before pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapping it around his shoulders. He really wanted to blame Lestrade for giving him a cold, but knew it was unfair. He’d been feeling poorly the day before; most likely they’d both caught it from the same person while working the homicide case. He hadn’t slept in days—first focused on catching the killer and now reviewing the case from start to finish to see where he could have done better. It shouldn’t have taken another body for him to figure it out…another small, young body. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

NGTssh! NKTsschoo!

He wished John was home. He’d been working double shifts at the clinic and Sherlock hadn’t seen him in days. His cell phone chirped and Sherlock glanced down.

I believe a “thank you” is in order, brother dear –MH

I understand you convinced Gregory to go home today. –MH

Sherlock still didn’t answer.

Was it that bad? –MH

If one was the type to be distressed by these sorts of things, this last case would have been quite disturbing.” –SH

Are you alright, Sherlock? –MH

Always. –SH

Sherlock frowned. He despised outward displays of concern from his brother.

Do let me know if you need anything. Gregory is quite unwell and I believe you’re coming down with it as well. –MH

Piss off! –SH

Temper, brother mine. –MH

HehNGTS! NKTsshh! hhSNTCHHoo!

God bless you. –MH

Sherlock threw the phone onto his desk and resumed his spot on the sofa.

#57 Flu

John was exhausted. If he had to treat one more cold, flu, strep throat, or sinus infection he thought his head might explode. He was a bit concerned about Sherlock too—John didn’t like leaving the consulting detective to work cases on his own, but he couldn’t spare any more time at the clinic. He was pleased to find the flat neither on fire, nor in imminent danger of catching fire. He found his friend sound asleep on the battered sofa. John smiled—it wasn’t unusual for Sherlock to crash after a case, sleeping for twenty or more hours at a time. His smile soon faded when he heard an odd noise come from Sherlock. If it was anyone else, John might have described it as a whimper. He heard it again, louder this time and John sat down on the edge of the sofa. Definitely a nightmare. He reached down and brushed a few errant curls from Sherlock’s forehead.

“Aw, you’re burning up,” John said even though he knew Sherlock couldn’t hear him. “Sherlock? Wake up. Come on.” John continued to call out until Sherlock jerked out of his sleep with a gasp, his eyes wide and darting around the room. “Whoa. Easy, mate. It’s okay.”

“John?”

“Yeah. You were having a nightmare.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” Sherlock said.

“Right.”

hhNGTssh! ehhSNGshhh!

“Bless you. So I’m guessing the sneezing combined with the fever tells me how you’re feeling.” Sherlock wiped his nose on his sleeve and John rolled his eyes and got up to get a box of tissues. “So…I’ve seen the morning papers. Another case solved.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

John frowned. That was the least convincing “fine” he’d ever heard. He ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

“This was a bad one, huh?”

“What? The case with murdered children? Yes, heh Hehh…I suppose it could be classified as bad.”

hhNTSCHH! hehKTsschh! SNGsschhoo!

“Bless you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

“I’b not.” Sherlock saw hurt flash across John’s face and clarified. “I only meant that I’b glad it’s not in your head.”

“But it’s in yours,” John said. Sherlock nodded but kept his eyes downcast. John continued to slowly card his fingers through Sherlock’s hair until he felt some of the tension start to dissipate. “Would you drink some tea?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t suppose I could get you to eat anything,” John said.

“Not hungry.”

John figured but he still had to ask. He got up and went into the kitchen to fix tea. Sherlock sat up and felt his head spin. Why did he always get a fever when he was sick? The slightest cold and his temperature spiked. It really was absurd when his body betrayed him like this. Speaking of the failure of his transport:

hehSNGsschh! hhNTSCHH! NKTsshh! hhSNTCHHoo!

He grabbed a fistful of tissues and brought them to his irritated, flaring nose for another round.

huhTSCHHoo! NTGSHH! huhNKSCHHoo! ehhHUHSNSCHHHooo!

“Christ, bless you!” John said, coming back into the room. He handed Sherlock a mug of hot tea as soon as he finished blowing his nose.

“Thag you, John.”

The two men sat side by side, the silence only broken by Sherlock’s occasional sniffles and sneezes.

“How’s Lestrade?” John asked finally. Sherlock sighed.

“You know how he is when there’s children involved. Managed to catch whatever this is as well,” he said gesturing to his cold-ridden appearance. John frowned.

“Should I call him?”

“No. Mycroft’s back frob wherever he was. If he thinks Lestrade needs a doctor he’ll call…or break into your clinic.”

hehh huh HehNTSCHHHooo! hhNGSSHHHooo!

The sneezes shook Sherlock’s frame—too strong to be restrained or stifled. He straightened up just in time to double over again.

EhhSNTISHHHOOO! SNDSSCHHHOO!

“Bless you, Sherlock!” John put his hand on his friend’s back and rubbed slow circles as he blew his nose, coughed, and blew his nose again. “Come on. You should be in bed.”

“Don’t want to.”

“I’ll get you a couple paracetamol and—”

“I said no,” Sherlock said. John frowned.

“and I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

“I’m not having nightmares.”

“I know. You don’t have nightmares,” John said.

hhSNCHHooo! SNTSCHHooo!

“Bless you.” John stood up and nodded towards the hall. “Come on, Sherlock.”

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! Poor Sherlock! I just want to hug him until he's all better...except that he would hate that and I don't want his cold, so I'm very glad that John is there to do the Sherlock-snuggling for me!

[cally]

Oh poor Gregory and poor Sherlock. They need extra tlc and care, the poor lambs.

[VoOs]

#57 has melted me. I am now a puddle on the floor. :wub:

[ID2006]

Awwwwww.... melting.... sweetness overload...... needless to say, keep it coming.

[Seniorstatus14]

Awwww!!! Sherlock! I can't even think of words to say its so great!

[JulesSneeze]

AWWWW poor Sherlock!!! I just love his sneezy suffering

Also, I simply cannot with your beautifully wet sneeze spellings!!! :D

[HoneyBunny]

Aw, poor feverish Sherlock with his nightmares! I feel bad for enjoying his misery but nevermind