Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

Oh. My dear loves. Need cuddles. They're having a rough time of it.

[matilda3948]

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

Oh. My dear loves. Need cuddles. They're having a rough time of it.

They are having a rough time recovering from this one They need lots and lots of TLC to get back on their feet. It's going to continue to be angsty for a bit. Hope no one minds A very brief emetophobe warning in the first couple paragraphs. Also, I describe one of the victims, so if that's going to be upsetting, skip the first paragraph of #27 and the second half of #69.

I promise I'll go back to something lighter soon!!!

#27 Garden

She was standing in a garden, the wind ruffling her dark hair. She was smiling and twirling in circles with her arms out wide. Suddenly, she dropped to the ground like a marionette whose strings were cut. By the time he reached her she was already gone.

“Gregory? Gregory!” Mycroft shook the older man’s shoulder to try and rouse him from yet another nightmare. Like he had several times before, Greg shot up with a hoarse shout, disoriented and shaking. Normally he would collapse in Mycroft’s arms as soon as he realized where he was, but this time he bolted from the bed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Mycroft didn’t think he could be more worried about Gregory, but when he heard his lover getting sick he realized he was wrong. He got up and nudged the door open, frowning when he found Gregory all but collapsed on the floor. Wordlessly, Mycroft handed Gregory a cup of water, flushed the toilet, and then wet a washcloth before sitting down on the floor next to his lover. He placed the cool cloth on the back of Gregory’s neck and tugged on him until Mycroft was supporting most of his weight. Tremors shook through Greg’s body and Mycroft knew he was fighting tears again. He was beginning to doubt his ability to handle the situation. Almost as if he could read Mycroft’s mind, Gregory said,

“M’okay. Just a bad nightmare.”

“I’m concerned about you, Gregory.” Mycroft ran his fingers through Greg’s short silver hair.

“I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all.” Mycroft sighed and kissed the top of his head.

“You’re more than a ‘little shaken up’ love, but that’s understandable.” He felt Gregory’s breathing hitch twice before he pushed away.

huh Huh RuhhMFSCHHH! huhSNMSSSHHH!

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thag you.”

“May we get up off the floor? I don’t want you to get chilled,” Mycroft said.

“Yeah,” Greg sighed. He let Mycroft help haul him off the tile floor and back to the bedroom.

#19 Feather

“How’s your stomach?” Mycroft asked once Greg was back in bed.

“Fine now. It was just that dream. My nose, on the other hand…”

huhRahhNGTsshh! hhRUHHsntschhhoo!

“God bless you. Here.” Mycroft handed him another clean handkerchief from the stack on the bedside table. “Would you drink some tea?”

“Sure. Thag you.” He turned his head and coughed roughly into his fist. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see Mycroft still standing there, looking a little unsure.

“Gregory…I know you don’t feel well, but you need to eat something.” Greg shook his head and Mycroft sighed. “It’s been two days since you’ve put anything in your body other than tea and cold medicine. There’s nothing in London I wouldn’t get for you if you’ll just tell me what you’ll eat.”

huhhSNTSHHooo! RuhhDTSHHHooo! huhRAHHKSSCHHoooo!

“God bless you, Gregory!” He nodded and gave his nose a thick blow before raising a pair of pleading eyes up to Mycroft.

“Please don’t make me eat yet. I feel so ill. Everything just…hurts. I can’t bear the thought of food right now. Please…”

“Shh. Fine, love. It’s fine,” Mycroft said. How could he say no to such a sad plea? He’d never seen Gregory in such a state and he just couldn’t bring himself to make things more difficult for him, even if it was in his best interest. Instead he leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on Gregory’s warm forehead. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want you well again.”

#42 Stare

Though he had a novel in his hands, John spent more time staring at Sherlock than reading. He was looking for early signs that he was having another nightmare. If John caught it early enough he could sometimes calm his friend before he woke in a panic again. When his mobile flashed an incoming call from Mycroft, John quietly got up, left the room, and shut the door before answering.

“Mycroft?”

“Hello, John.”

“Everything alright?” he asked, immediately noting the strain in the other Holmes’ voice.

“I confess I am a bit out of my element at the moment. Gregory is unwell and I can’t seem to ease his discomfort.” John sighed and ran a hand over his head.

“Yeah. Physically or mentally unwell?” he asked.

“Both I’m afraid. He seems to have a severe head cold but that’s not my most pressing concern. He can’t get more than a couple hours of sleep—plagued by nightmares from this last case. Plus, I can’t get him to eat anything. I know it’s been at least two days, perhaps longer.”

“I’m dealing with much the same thing over here,” John said, allowing himself to share Mycroft’s worry for a moment.

“How is my brother?”

“Sick. Restless. Really troubled by that case. He hasn’t talked about it much at all, but it must have been bad.”

“I agree. They’ve both seen a lot over the years. It takes something profound to shake Gregory this badly, Sherlock too,” Mycroft said.

“Look, I’ve been debating this all day with Sherlock, but I could call in a prescription for a mild sedative.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, not my first choice either, but I’ve never seen him like this. He’s only going to get more ill unless he can get some meaningful rest.”

“I agree,” Mycroft said.

“Shall I do the same for Greg?”

“If you would.”

“Sure thing. I’ll send it to the chemist down the street from you. Let me know if his fever gets too high or you think he’s getting a sinus infection.”

“I appreciate it, John.”

“Good luck with your patient.”

“I suspect you need the luck far more than I do,” Mycroft said.

#69 Attack

John had just finished calling in prescriptions for both men when he heard the sound of breaking glass come from Sherlock’s room. He threw the door open to find a mussed up Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his hands, a broken glass at his feet.

“What happened?” John asked. Sherlock looked confused.

“Tried to get a drink but I dropped the glass.” John gingerly picked up the large pieces of glass and then sat down next to Sherlock.

“Show me your hands,” he said. When Sherlock held his hands out John saw the reason he lost his grip—his hands were shaking violently. Sherlock clenched his fists several times before extending his long fingers again, but it didn’t help. John tilted Sherlock's head towards him. “Did you have another not-a-nightmare?” he asked. Sherlock nodded. “Okay. Get back in bed at least until I clean up the rest of the glass."

When he came back with a fresh glass of water (plastic this time) and a dustpan, John found Sherlock leaning up against the headboard, his knees pulled up, and a handful of tissues poised a few inches from his face. He put Sherlock’s water on the bedside table and bent down to clean up the mess left from the previous one.

“Bless you mate,” he said.

heh…Ehh…hehNGTshh! KTschhh! hhNTSCHH! Hehh…hehKTsschh! SNGsschhoo!

“Christ! Bless you, Sherlock.” John threw away the rest of the broken glass but Sherlock was still in the midst of a prolonged sneezing attack.

Heh…ehh hehSNGsschh! NKTsshh! hhNTSCHH hahhSNTCHHoo!

He blinked a set of watery eyes, taking a fresh handful of tissues from John before he dissolved into another fit.

NTGSHH! huhTSCHHoo! Hah…huh huhNKSCHHoo! EhhHUHSN’SCHHHooo!

“Bless you again!” John said, frowning. Sherlock nodded and took a hesitant sniff. Once he was sure he was done sneezing, he blew his nose several times before yawning widely. “You okay?” John asked.

“I feel awful,” he said, resting his head in his hands.

“I know you do,” John said.

“I’b so tired,” Sherlock sighed. John slid up so he was resting against the headboard next to Sherlock. Despite being several inches taller, Sherlock scrunched up and rested his head on John’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” John asked quietly. Sherlock shuddered. “It might help clear your head.”

“Shouldn’t have taken four,” he whispered.

“Four?”

“Children. It shouldn’t have taken four. I had everything I needed after the third one. I should have seen it,” Sherlock said. “I couldn’t have done it after two, but I should have after the third. Cora’s on my hands.”

“Cora was the fourth victim?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Sherlock. None of this is on your hands,” John said. “None of it.” Sherlock shivered again.

“Her favorite food was spaghetti and she loved ponies. Her favorite color was green even though 93% of girls her age chose either pink or purple as their favorite color.”

John had asked him to talk, but now that he was it was awful. John had to will himself to sit still and let his friend speak. Sherlock coughed lightly into his fist and kept going.

“She had a dog—a cocker spaniel—and a parakeet. She was her grandmother’s favorite.” Sherlock swallowed hard. “She was wearing those odd little shoes that children like—the ones that light up when they walk.” His voice was barely above a whisper by the time he was done.

“Jesus, Sherlock.” John pulled his friend towards him and rubbed his back. In all the years he’d known Sherlock, he’d only seen him on the verge of tears once, so the slow tears steadily dripping from those blue eyes was the equivalent of sobbing. John was willing to sit there for hours if that’s what Sherlock needed, but there was only so much comfort Sherlock would allow himself. After a few moments, he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. “No wonder you can’t sleep,” John said.

“Like I said, glad you weren’t there for this one,” Sherlock said, rubbing his nose against his wrist.

heh EhhNGTsshh! SNTsschhoo!

“Bless you,” John said. “Mycroft said Greg’s struggling too. He called earlier,” he explained.

“You might consider writing him a prescription for a sedative. He may dot slehhh…sleep heh without it.”

HehhhNTSCHH! EhhNTCHHoo!

“Bless you. I already called in scripts for both of you.” Sherlock looked up, surprised. John wasn’t in the habit of prescribing him addictive drugs. “Just to help you sleep until I can get you back on your feet.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of Sherlock’s eyes, before putting his hand on his forehead. “You’re a bit of a mess,” he said. A small smile ghosted over Sherlock’s face.

“Thank you, John.”

[cally]

Oh the poor, poor lambs. (Sherlock's fit though...... )

As troubling as the storyline is, I love the angst and the hurt/comfort and it is just SO well done.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

What cally said. (Including the crossed-out part.)

[AngelEyes]

Definitely what Cally said!

[HoneyBunny]

Never apologize for angst! The more it hurts, the better.

[ID2006]

Angst... my favorite

[matilda3948]

YAY! I'm so glad I haven't bummed everyone out Okay, tonight I'm (kinda) wrapping up Sherlock's bit and then I'll finish up Greg's in the next few days.

#11 Broody

Not that John would admit it of course, but he truly missed his impulsive, broody, brilliant, insensitive flatmate. He glanced at his watch confirming that Sherlock had been in a sound sleep for nearly fifteen hours. He fell asleep roughly an hour after John gave him the sedative. John had laid down on the bed next to his friend and grabbed a few hours of sleep during the night. The medication had its intended effect though, because Sherlock was deeply and peacefully asleep. Not a single not-a-nightmare so far. John heard a sniffle and glanced over at Sherlock. He rubbed his nose and turned over on his side. He looked young when he slept…and fragile—something else John was loathe to admit. The previous night was still sticking with him. He’d never seen Sherlock cry. Hell, he’d never seen Sherlock show even a drop of sympathy for a victim but there was something about Cora that had gotten under his skin. The facts that Sherlock had rattled off weren’t case-related; they were thoughtful, personal and bordered on heartbreaking.

hhNtshhoo! hahktschhoo!

Sherlock was only fractionally awake when he sneezed.

“Bless you,” John said, handing him a couple tissues. Sherlock nodded and wiped his nose, blinking slowly. John wasn’t sure if he was going to wake up or go back to sleep, so he just kept quiet until it was clear that his friend was leaning towards wakefulness.

“What time is it?” Sherlock asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Nearly five.”

“You should get some sleep,” Sherlock said with a yawn. John laughed.

“No. Five in the evening. You’ve been asleep all day.” Sherlock looked confused. “You needed it,” John said. “That was the whole point of the medication.”

Sherlock got up and went to use the loo. John took that as a good cue to go make tea and a grilled cheese sandwich. It was his secret weapon in the war to get Sherlock to eat.

hehNTSHHoo! ehhGSHHooo!

“Bless you!” John called out to the living room. He wasn’t expecting an answer, much less for Sherlock to come wandering into the kitchen. He coughed into his fist and John turned from the stove. “Hey, what do you need? Go sit and I’ll bring it to you.” Sherlock nodded but didn’t ask for anything; he just turned on his heels and went and flopped on the sofa.

HuhNTSHHooo! hehKTsshhhoo!

“Bless you, Sherlock.” John came in with two cups of tea and Sherlock’s sandwich. He put the latter down on the coffee table with a pointed look at his friend. John’s expectations didn’t need to be voiced. A few minutes of quiet tea-sipping late passed before Sherlock’s nose got the better of his.

huhNGsshh! huhNTCHoo! heh…huhKTSHHoo!

“Bless you. You feeling any better?” John asked. Sherlock started to answer before ducking his head down again.

HehTSHHHoo! huhSNTCHHoo!

“Kind of answers my question I guess,” John said. He was glad that Sherlock at least had the presence of mind to bring his box of tissues with him. After blowing his nose (repeatedly), Sherlock took a couple sips of tea.

“Despite the sneezing, I am actually feeling some better,” he said.

“I’m glad,” John said. He did his best to hide his smile when Sherlock reached out and picked up the plate and took a bite of his sandwich. He practically inhaled the first half, before slowing down when he started in the remainder. “Did you even chew that?” John asked.

“A bit.”

“I’ll make you another one later if you’re still hungry.”

“How long’s it been since I’ve eaten?” Sherlock asked. John rolled his eyes.

“If you’re relying on me to keep track, it’s safe to say it’s been too long.”

hehNGSHHooo! hahNTSHHoo!

“Bless you. This cold’s not getting into your sinuses, is it?” John asked, reaching over and putting his hand on Sherlock’s forehead. “Barely any fever. That’s good.” Sherlock swatted John’s hand away.

“Just a cold,” he mumbled.

“Right.”

Sherlock sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Listen, John…I um…I wanted to thank you for…well, for looking after me the last couple of days.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“No, John. It most certainly was not ‘nothing,’” Sherlock said. “In addition to being ill, I was…unsettled by that last case.”

“I know you were and I’m glad I could help—glad you let me help.”

huh heh…HehKTCHoo! hhNGSHHoo! NTK’SHHoo!

“Bless you.”

HehehhTSSHH! TSSCHHoo! NTSCHHoo! hehSNSCHHoo!

“Christ! Bless you again. Here,” John shoved a handful of tissues into Sherlock’s hands. After blowing his nose, his breath hitched several times but didn’t result in any additional sneezes. He shook his head as though it might dislodge the tickle before picking up his previous train of thought.

“Have you spoken with Greg?”

“No. Texted with Mycroft a bit but Greg’s been asleep even longer than you have,” John said.

“Hmm.”

“Thought I might drop by tomorrow and see how he’s doing. You can come with me if you feel up to it.”

“Hmm,” Sherlock repeated.

“We back to one-syllable grunts then?”

“Hmm.” They shared a glance and both laughed, though Sherlock’s caught in his throat and made him cough until he had tears in his eyes. John handed him his tea and patted him on the back. “Not ready for laughing then,” Sherlock rasped. “I’m serious though, John. I sincerely appreciate your assistance.”

“Any time, Sherlock.”

“Especially since it was all your fault.”

“What? How was any of it my fault?”

“Before your arrival in my life I would have never suffered from such an intolerable wave of sentiment.”

“Oh shut up!” John chucked a pillow at his head, hitting Sherlock square in the face. He scrunched up his nose and sneezed.

Ntschh! KTsschh! HehKTSCHHoo!

“Drama queen,” John said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be making me another sandwich?”

[Seniorstatus14]

Awww angst!!!! My favorite, poor Sherlock and poor Greg. Gosh I love them! Don't ever make them feel better.

[cally]

Please don't ever stop with sneezy!Sherlock. He's too adorable for words.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! So much love do I have for this one. The perfect mix of humor and angst and smushiness...and, of course, sneezing!

[AngelEyes]

Dear, sweet, caring John. And Sherlock, it's all John's fault. Of course. Lol. Drama Queen. Lol!

[JulesSneeze]

GAHHH

[matilda3948]

Please don't ever stop with sneezy!Sherlock. He's too adorable for words.

Thanks!!!

I may just drag this story out forever. Tonight is some brotherly love-hate.

#64 Spices

The next morning found John and Sherlock tucked into the back of a cab on their way to Mycroft’s townhouse. While not 100%, Sherlock was mending. Based on his conversation with Mycroft last night it sounded like the same couldn't be said for their detective inspector. John had his medical bag with him and was lecturing Sherlock on not hassling their friend when they pulled up to the house. Mycroft met them at the door.

"Good morning John. Sherlock, I didn’t expect you to be accompanying the doctor. You’re sure you’re well enough to be out?”

"Overthrowing hostile governments from home this morning?"

John rolled his eyes and did his best not to smile.

“Do you two think you can play nice for a few minutes while I look in on Greg?” the doctor asked. Sherlock turned and went into the sitting room without answering. Mycroft followed and John went upstairs to see his patient.

The two brothers sat in opposing armchairs assessing each other.

"You've lost weight, little brother," Mycroft said.

"Jealous?"

"Concerned."

Sherlock's huff of derision quickly dissolved into a cough and Mycroft frowned. He got up from his chair and went into the kitchen, coming out with two hot cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. He placed the tea and biscuits down next to his brother and then resumed his seat, crossing one leg over the other and sipping his tea.

"Surprised you're not eating any," Sherlock said picking up a sweet and taking a bite.

"I am not the one who has foregone food for three—no four days."

"You're slipping Mycroft. I ate a sandwich last night."

"Sherlock, one grilled cheese is not enough to keep you going."

The younger Holmes rolled his eyes, mumbled something about sounding like John, and picked up his tea. If he was forced to pick something he liked about visiting Mycroft’s it would be his taste in tea. It was a rich, complex mix of flavors and spices—no doubt an expensive import. Mycroft watched the way his brother tried to hide the comfort that the tea gave him. He’d put a spoon of honey in Sherlock’s tea, knowing that he liked it and it would soothe his throat. Sherlock’s nose twitched ever so slightly and Mycroft knew he was very close to succumbing to the sneeze he’d been fighting since they sat down earlier. Sure enough, a moment later, Sherlock put his cup down and poorly stifled a sneeze into a loose fist.

huhNGTsshh!

“God bless you,” Mycroft said. He reached into his pocket to get a handkerchief but Sherlock waved him off, getting his own from his jacket as his breath hitched softly.

huh Huh ehhh huh…hhNTSHH! KTSCHHoo! huhNtsschh NTSCHHoo!

“God bless you, Sherlock!” Mycroft frowned as Sherlock blew his nose before coughing again, having to take a swallow of tea to get the spasms to stop. He wasn’t sure what concerned him more: How poorly Sherlock sounded, or that he was unable to hide it. “You don’t sound at all well, brother dear. Have you taken anything this morning?”

"Since when have you paid so much interest to my wellbeing?"

"Just being more vocal about it today is all. What you and Gregory went through was awful."

"It wasn't that bad," Sherlock said with a dismissive shrug. He was thoroughly expecting Mycroft’s well-worn lecture on sentiment putting a person at a disadvantage, how it hindered one’s ability to see a situation clearly, to make decisions, and execute plans. Instead, all he said was,

"What a sad excuse for a lie, brother mine."

"Let's not do this, Mycroft. This isn't what we do."

“Special circumstances,” Mycroft said quietly.

hehNGSHHoo! hhTSNchhoo! huh heh HuhNKSHHoo!

“My goodness. God bless you, Sherlock.”

“Oh, bake yourself useful and get be some more tea,” Sherlock snapped. Mycroft rose and came around behind Sherlock’s chair. He reached down and took Sherlock’s cup of the side table, pretending that the brush of his hand against his brother’s shoulder was accidental. Sherlock failed to stifle a yawn and, perhaps surprising them both, Mycroft squeezed his shoulder.

“I…I’ll be back with more tea.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

[JulesSneeze]

Oh my...this is FANTASTIC!

I can never get enough of poor poorly Sherlock and comforting, brotherly Mycroft.

And those sneezes...the vulnerability...the coughing (I'm a sucker for coughing)

[Seniorstatus14]

AWWWW!!! I just love sick Sherlock and concerned John/Mycroft! I love this too much for words!

[cally]

"Let's not do this, Mycroft. This isn't what we do."

Oh Sherlock.

[SneezyRae]

And the angst continues. Love it

[AngelEyes]

"Overthrowing hostile governments from home this morning?"

I love snippy!Sherlock. And it's so appropriate to Mycroft. LOL.

The two brothers sat in opposing armchairs assessing each other.

then resumed his seat, crossing one leg over the other and sipping his tea.

Perfect Imagery.

This is wonderful. I've always held out that they secretly care for each other. Every once in a while it slips past Mycroft.

[matilda3948]

Thank you for the kind feedback!! I really enjoy writing this story. The good doctor will now look in on poor Greg.

#61 Accent

John knocked lightly on the bedroom door even though it had been left ajar.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Hey John. Of course.” Greg cleared his throat and sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard. John came into the bedroom and looked around. It was a surprisingly warm space—deep taupe walls with lots of navy and evergreen accent colors. The bed looked divine, though John suspected that Greg was ready to be elsewhere.

“How are you feeling?” John asked, sitting down in the chair that he knew Mycroft had left at the side of the bed just for him.

“I’ve been better,” Greg said, running a hand through his short hair.

“Yeah. You look like hell,” John said with a smile. It was true. In addition to the expected pale face, red nose, and glassy eyes, Greg had at least a couple day’s worth of stubble on his face.

HuhruhhNGSHH! huhhSNCHHooo!

“Bless you. You sound like hell too,” John said. He’d seen Greg sick on a handful of occasions but his sneezes sounded congested and strained in a way he’d never heard before.

“Bloody cold just huh…just won’t stob,” he managed before sneezing again.

huhSNTCHHooo! huhRahhSNSSHHHoo!

“Bless you.” John waited until Greg had coughed, blown his nose, and coughed some more before continuing. “Mycroft said you’ve had a rough time of it lately.” Greg nodded. He knew John meant more than just physically.

“Finally got some sleep. Thanks for those pills—they’ve helped. I was…well, like you said, been having a rough time of it.”

“Have you talked to Mycroft about it?” John asked.

“Just general stuff. He already has so much on his mind, doesn’t need cop nightmares added to it.”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” John said, grabbing his bag. Greg cocked his head like he hadn’t heard the doctor correctly. John shrugged. “He loves you. You worry him more by not talking about it.”

“Maybe.”

“Let me take a look at you,” John said.

huhRhhdschhhoo! hhSNSSHH! HuhhSNCHHHooo!

“Bless you. Do you feel as congested as you sound?” John asked.

“Worse, if possible.” Greg grabbed a handkerchief off the bedside table and tried blowing his nose, but he could barely get any air through his nasal passages. John started by listening to his patient’s lungs, pausing when he heard a slight wheeze at the top of Greg’s airway.

“You’re close to bronchitis. Have you had a fever?”

“Off and on for the last couple of days.” John frowned and listened again. Then he checked Greg’s throat and ears before examining his sinuses. He wasn’t surprised when Greg hissed and pulled his head back when John applied pressure to the space underneath his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” John said.

“It’s fihehh…huhh…HuhhSNGSHHoo! hhSNDSHHoo! Ugh. Sorry.”

“Bless you, Greg.” John grabbed his prescription pad and scribbled out a couple of things. “You’ve got a pretty bad infection. I’m going to get you on some antibiotics and a decongestant.” He paused and tore another sheet off the pad. “I’m also going to write you a referral for a psychologist.”

“John—”

“Just hear me out. You can tear it up as soon as I leave if you want, but I want you to have it. I can look at you and tell you haven’t eaten solid food in days, your sleep’s uneasy, and you don’t want to talk about it. I know that feeling. I also know what it can lead to in the long run, so here’s a referral for the woman I saw after Afghanistan.”

“Did you like her?” Greg asked. John thought for a moment.

“No, I didn’t like her. She was good though.”

“I’ll think about it,” Greg said. “How’s Sherlock?”

“He had a bad few days, but he’s coming around. Didn’t get as sick as you did thankfully.”

“I didn’t know he was sick.”

“Mycroft didn’t say anything?” John asked. Greg shook his head, but couldn’t answer because his nose was itching in anticipation of another sneeze.

huh Huh…HuhRAHHSDCHHooo! hhSNDSHHooo! RuhhSNTSHHooo!

“Bless you.”

“Thags.” He grabbed several tissues and did his best to try and blow his nose but all he managed was a thick squelching noise. John gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Decongestants will help with that. Mycroft probably just didn’t want to worry you with Sherlock. I was home to look after him. I’m sure he’ll be up to bother you in a moment.”

“He’s here?” Greg asked.

“Yeah. Downstairs with Mycroft. Hope I don’t find two bloody corpses when I go back.”

“There won’t be blood. They’ll just stare each other to death.” John laughed.

“Even he talked about it,” he said with a pointed look at Greg. “Slept better once he did too.” Greg had never been happier to be interrupted by a sneezing fit before in his life.

HuhhSNSCHHoo! hhSNTCHH! huhRuhhSNDSHHooo! huhSNTCHHoo!

“Bless you!” John said. Greg nodded while he swapped out the soggy tissues with fresh ones, sniffling miserably.

“You sound disgusting.” Both men glanced up to see Sherlock standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Sherlock,” John warned.

“It’s alright,” Greg said. “I actually do sound disgusting.”

“Told you,” Sherlock said, coming into the room. He was carrying two cups of tea. “Mycroft insisted I bring you this,” he said, putting one down next to Greg. Then he glared at John who quickly got the message and got up.”

“I’ll just uh…take your prescriptions downstairs then. Feel better, Greg. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

“Thanks, John.”

Sherlock plopped down in the newly vacated chair and propped his feet up on the bed, observing Greg over the top of his cup as he sipped his tea.

[SneezyRae]

Aaaaaaaw Greg. Don't do this to yourself. My heart is shattering into tiny pieces for you.

Another fabulous installment yet I get the feeling this isn't over for Greg yet

[cally]

Oh poor Gregory. He sounds so miserable.

I have a feeling I know where you are going with this and I CANNOT wait to read. I need it like I need air!

[bangbang]

YES! Those two need to talk and sort out their feelings and Greg needs to talk to Mycroft - communication is key, boys! I adore the angst; this story arc has been amazing!

[Seniorstatus14]

AWWW!!! I love this Greg is so adorable and Sherlock is just being, well, Sherlock

[AngelEyes]

So much love. So much feels. Now talk it out boys. You need some mutual comfort.