Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

Sherlock rolled his eyes. First because of how ridiculous Greg sounded, but also because he was never quite sure what to do when Greg implied that Sherlock was his friend.

He has more than he realizes/admits. He also cares more than he'll admit.

When he turned back he found Sherlock’s staring at him, working something out in that massive brain of his.

“Fine. Come to my house.”

[matilda3948]

Oh, poor Greg. He sounds so wretched. I hope Sherlock can convince him to leave and get some rest.

Oh, he's going to In his own Sherlock-ish way.

First because of how ridiculous Greg sounded, but also because he was never quite sure what to do when Greg implied that Sherlock was his friend.

Awwww. Oh Sherlock, one day maybe you'll learn how to interact in normal society. Until then, just stay your prickly self.

Poor awkward, prickly little thing

I felt so bad for Greg. The issues he has with his wife, and how he doesn't want to be at home. Poor guy. I'm glad he has someone like Sherlock (even though Sherlock spends most of the time insulting him, but eeeehhh). Bittersweet but lovely.

You know I'm a sucker for the angsty stuff.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. First because of how ridiculous Greg sounded, but also because he was never quite sure what to do when Greg implied that Sherlock was his friend.

He has more than he realizes/admits. He also cares more than he'll admit.

When he turned back he found Sherlock’s staring at him, working something out in that massive brain of his.

“Fine. Come to my house.”

Indeed. Caring is so utterly befuddling.

Thank you all for the lovely comments. I'm adding more to this story line. I don't know what drabble prompts they use...I just kinda wrote until I didn't have anything left to say.

“New address,” Sherlock said as Greg pulled out onto the main road. “Baker Street.”

“When did you move there?” Greg asked.

“Month ago. Helped the owner with some trouble she was having with her husband. She offered me the upstairs flat in exchange for my assistance.”

“So she and her husband live on the first floor?”

“No. Her husband’s dead. Executed in Florida.”

“Christ, you couldn’t get him exonerated and she still let you move in?” Lestade asked.

“No. I made sure he was executed.”

Greg glanced at Sherlock in surprise, but the younger man just smirked. When they pulled up to the building Greg was pleased to see it was a significant upgrade from where he had been living.

“Certainly a better neighborhood,” he said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and got out of the car. Greg followed suit and that was when he noticed how heavy his limbs were. It took an unreasonable amount to effort to get out of the car and the sharp, cold air that met him made him shiver violently. He coughed into his fist and locked the car, trailing behind Sherlock as they made their way to the front door.

“Sherlock, is that you?” a female voice called seconds before an older woman came into the entryway. “Thought I heard the door. Where have you been off to this morning? It’s terribly damp and cool out today, glad to see you in that enormous coat of yours and—oh! You have a friend with you.” She finally paused her monologue when she caught sight of the Detective Inspector.

“Mrs. Hudson, Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock rattled off by way of introduction.

“Greg, please,” Lestrade added.

“Oh, very pleased to meet you,” she beamed. She lowered her voice slightly before commenting to Sherlock, “Good for you. He’s quite handsome, isn’t he? Bit older than you, but that’s probably best. You need a bit more stability in your life.” Lestrade could still easily make out every word she was saying and he felt himself blushing. Sherlock just let the woman ramble on, looking…amused? That was the closest word Greg could find to describe the look on the young man’s face. For her part, Mrs. Hudson just continued talking. “I’ll bring up some tea in a moment. Unless, of course, you’re planning to be otherwise engaged.”

Greg’s eyes went as wide as saucers just before he started coughing harshly into his fist.

“Not that I’m one to judge,” she added hastily. “Live and let live, that’s my motto.” At long last, Sherlock interrupted.

“Mrs. Hudson, the Detective Inspector is merely a colleague.” Disappointment flashed across her face. “We’re working a case when he felt a bit unwell. Decided we’d come back here for a bit.” She looked at Greg to confirm the story. He nodded but was unable to answer because of an absolutely imminent sneeze. He grabbed one of the crumpled handkerchiefs from his pocket and did his best to muffle the sound in the small entryway where they were all gathered. He turned his back to the others as the tickle swelled to a terrible crescendo.

huhAhhhMFFSHHHH! RuhahhhGNSSMFFF!

“My goodness! Bless you!” Mrs. Hudson patted him on the arm when he turned around, bleary eyed and dazed from trying to suppress his huge sneezes. “You do sound a bit under the weather, don’t you? Well you boys get upstairs and I’ll bring a tray up in a moment. Shouldn’t have been outside in this weather with a cold like that but I know how you boys are—all work, never looking after yourselves.”

“Come on,” Sherlock said, nodding towards the stairs. Greg couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him a “boy” and as he climbed the stairs still listening to Mrs. Hudson chatter away, he decided he very much liked Sherlock’s new landlady. They walked into the flat and Sherlock waved his arm around in a careless circle. “This is it,” he said, hanging up his coat and disappearing down a hallway. Greg smiled. This was good. This was a definite step in the right direction. Safe, clean, warm, even cozy (assuming one wasn’t troubled by the skull on the mantle). This had the potential to be a home, not just a place to sleep. His musings were cut short when Sherlock breezed back into the room and dropped an armful on things on the sofa. He stopped in front of the DI and held out a thermometer.

“No need for that, Sherlock,” Greg said. Sherlock huffed and shoved the thermometer in the man’s open mouth.

“Sit down before you fall down, you idiot.”

Greg sunk down on the sofa and adjusted the thermometer so it was under his tongue correctly. He watched as Sherlock sorted through the other things he’d brought back. He put a box of tissues on the table and shook out a wrinkled blanket causing a box of cold medicine to fall out onto the floor. Greg sniffed and wondered how much longer he had to wait before the thermometer beeped. His nose was beginning to run and he knew he was going to sneeze again soon.

“Twenty seconds,” Sherlock said as if he could read his mind. He pulled several tissues from the box and handed them to Greg who was genuinely struggling by this point. He was sniffling every couple of seconds and his forehead was wrinkled with the effort of trying not to sneeze. “Don’t,” Sherlock warned and Greg wasn’t even a little surprised that the tickle in his nose obeyed the man’s order—at least long enough for his temperature to be recorded and him to quickly bury his nose in the tissues.

huh Huh…hhRahhNTSCHHoo! huhRahhhSSHHooo! Huhh hh…ruhhahhhSHHHOOO!

The first three came relatively quickly but the rest took an agonizingly long time to come to fruition. Greg’s sinuses felt like they were on fire, causing his breath to hitch wildly, coming right up to the brink of an enormous sneeze but then backing off at the last possible second.

hahh HUHH—huh hh—huhh…huhhAHHHSNSHHHooo! huh ahh…hhRahhhGNTSCHHHooo! Ahh—huh uhh…

“Goodness! Bless you, you poor dear,” Mrs. Hudson said, coming into the living room. “You do sound just dreadful. Greg couldn’t quite make out what she was doing as his eyes kept fluttering closed with each tormenting sneeze.

Ahh huhh…ehh Ehh—hhRuhhhGNSSHHHHoo! Huhhehh…huh…

“Sherlock, perhaps you should have taken him to a doctor first,” she said.

“Just a bad cold, Mrs. Hudson. His fever is mild enough,” Sherlock said.

“Well, I think it’s just lovely that you brought him here to look after him.”

huhehh HuhhSTSSSCHHooo! He doubled over with the force of the sneeze, but his breath immediately hitched in an airy series of pre-sneeze breaths. Huh huhh…ehh

“I’m not looking after him,” Sherlock snapped. “Strictly serving my own self interests. If this idiot doesn’t get some rest, he’ll end up in hospital, I won’t have any cases to work on, and then I'll go mad from boredom.”

“Oh, you tell yourself whatever you like,” Mrs. Hudson said, patting him on the shoulder. “But I see right through you, Sherlock Holmes.”

huhh hhRahhhGNSSCHHHHHHooo!

Finally with a sneeze that seemed almost too violent even for him, Greg felt the last of the tickle dissipate.

“God bless you,” Mrs. Hudson said. Sherlock might have even mumbled “Bless you” after that particularly nasty outburst. Greg nodded but couldn’t answer before tending to his rather messy nose. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Greg finally managed in a raspy voice.

“Of course, love. Any friend of Sherlock’s.”

[cally]

Ohhhh poor Gregory. He sounds just miserable. One thing I did notice (a pattern in your drabbles . . )

“God bless you,” Mrs. Hudson said. Sherlock might have even mumbled “Bless you” after that particularly nasty outburst. Greg nodded but couldn’t answer before tending to his rather messy nose. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

. . .is that Sherlock seems to be quite shy about blessing people when others are around. He didn't have a problem saying it to Greg when it was just them. Sherlock is such an enigma. I hope he manages to look after Greg ok (and not get sick himself in the process).

[Spoo]

He grabbed one of the crumpled handkerchiefs from his pocket and did his best to muffle the sound in the small entryway where they were all gathered. He turned his back to the others as the tickle swelled to a terrible crescendo.

The imagery is fantastic here. There's something about Greg turning all the way around, away from them, that's perfectly in his character.

“Twenty seconds,” Sherlock said as if he could read his mind. He pulled several tissues from the box and handed them to Greg who was genuinely struggling by this point. He was sniffling every couple of seconds and his forehead was wrinkled with the effort of trying not to sneeze. “Don’t,” Sherlock warned and Greg wasn’t even a little surprised that the tickle in his nose obeyed the man’s order—at least long enough for his temperature to be recorded and him to quickly bury his nose in the tissues.

I loved this bit. Mostly because Sherlock was like don't you dare.

And the fit that followed! I like how Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson kept talking, even though poor Greg's nose was having a tantrum. It made the scene feel real. Also, poor Greg. He'll lose his voice if he keeps sneezing so much!

Amazing installment, matilda!

[AngelEyes]

Absolutely Fantastic! You have Mrs Hudson down pat! So perfect! And I love Greg's harsh drawn out fit as she and Sherlock discuss him. LOL. I love it!

[matilda3948]

Ohhhh poor Gregory. He sounds just miserable. One thing I did notice (a pattern in your drabbles . . )

“God bless you,” Mrs. Hudson said. Sherlock might have even mumbled “Bless you” after that particularly nasty outburst. Greg nodded but couldn’t answer before tending to his rather messy nose. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

. . .is that Sherlock seems to be quite shy about blessing people when others are around. He didn't have a problem saying it to Greg when it was just them. Sherlock is such an enigma. I hope he manages to look after Greg ok (and not get sick himself in the process).

That's so funny! I never noticed that I consistently write him that way, but you're totally right!! I guess it just seems so completely in character for him. I mean, if you have to care about someone at least don't let anybody witness it.

He grabbed one of the crumpled handkerchiefs from his pocket and did his best to muffle the sound in the small entryway where they were all gathered. He turned his back to the others as the tickle swelled to a terrible crescendo.

The imagery is fantastic here. There's something about Greg turning all the way around, away from them, that's perfectly in his character.

“Twenty seconds,” Sherlock said as if he could read his mind. He pulled several tissues from the box and handed them to Greg who was genuinely struggling by this point. He was sniffling every couple of seconds and his forehead was wrinkled with the effort of trying not to sneeze. “Don’t,” Sherlock warned and Greg wasn’t even a little surprised that the tickle in his nose obeyed the man’s order—at least long enough for his temperature to be recorded and him to quickly bury his nose in the tissues.

I loved this bit. Mostly because Sherlock was like don't you dare.

And the fit that followed! I like how Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson kept talking, even though poor Greg's nose was having a tantrum. It made the scene feel real. Also, poor Greg. He'll lose his voice if he keeps sneezing so much!

Amazing installment, matilda!

Thank you!! I love flipping the caretaking dynamic and making Sherlock do it. Plus, I just love writing Mrs. Hudson. She has Sherlock all figured out already.

Absolutely Fantastic! You have Mrs Hudson down pat! So perfect! And I love Greg's harsh drawn out fit as she and Sherlock discuss him. LOL. I love it!

Thank you! Sherlock's not going to let a little thing like Greg sneezing his head off get in the way of his conversation. LOL!

So, here's a continuation of that story line using the following three drabble prompts. I'm super tired and not proofreading. I'll fix the inevitable typos tomorrow.

Doctor, Tissues, Apologize

Mrs. Hudson had left a tray of tea and scones on the coffee table. Sherlock poured two cups of tea and added a splash of milk to Greg’s.

“Here,” he said, handing it to the DI. Then he snagged a scone and took a bite before heading into the kitchen. Greg smiled and shook his head. Sherlock eating? Voluntarily? He briefly wondered if he was dreaming.

“Oh don’t look so surprised,” Sherlock said as he came back. He put a glass of water down in front of Greg and then popped a couple cold pills out of a blister pack. After downing the pills Greg picked up a scone and took a bite.

“These are really good,” he said. Sherlock made a noncommittal grunt but grabbed another one and plopped down on the sofa next to Greg. It was quiet for a few minutes except for the older man’s occasional sniffles. His nose was simultaneously stuffed up and runny…and tickling. He pulled a couple tissues from the box and put his cup down. The itch flared down the bridge of his nose and his breath hitched. He scrubbed his nose in the tissues and thought he might have warded off the sneeze when he suddenly pitched forwards.

hhRuhhhGNSSHHHHoo!

“Bless you.”

“Thags.” He turned and blew his nose trying to clear some of the congestion that was settling in his sinuses. “And thanks for letting me come over. You were right. I didn’t want to go home,” Greg said quietly.

“I’m always right.”

Greg sighed and leaned his head back. He really was exhausted. And he didn’t feel well. And his marriage was a wreck.

“Sherlock, can I ask you something?” He shifted so he could he could look the younger man in the eye. Sherlock nodded, but before Greg could ask his question he was forced to grab for the tissues again. “Hahh ahh hang od…hehh hhRahhNTSCHHoo! huhRahhhSSHHooo!” He immediately coughed into the clump of tissues until he was able to take a sip of lukewarm tea. “Sorry about that,” he finally said. “Bloody awful cold. Anyway…” Greg seemed to steel himself for whatever it was he wanted to ask the consulting detective. “Sherlock, you’re the smartest person I know—by far. You’re a genius and you’re never wrong. So…I guess…um...”

“The point, Lestrade?”

“What should I do about my wife?” he asked quietly. Sherlock blinked.

“You’re asking me for relationship advice? You must be desperate.”

“I am.”

Sherlock sighed, looking at the man next to him. This was a bad idea. Greg was unwell, emotionally fragile, and sleep deprived. Holmes-level honesty was a recipe for disaster in this situation and, though he’d never admit it, Sherlock wasn’t eager to rub salt in the wound. But there was something in the way Greg was looking at him—some kind of unspoken plea in his eyes that was making it hard for Sherlock to say no. Lestrade wanted answers and he knew exactly who could give them to him: Sherlock.

“Hmm. You’re sure you want my advice?”

“I’ve tried it my way a half dozen times and always end up right back here. Tell me what I should do.”

“Get a tissue,” Sherlock said. The words were barely out of his mouth when the tickle assaulted Greg’s nose.

hehh huhh…

A prickling sensation needled its way around his nostrils and made his nose drip into the fistful of tissues he had quickly grabbed.

Huhhahh ahh—huhhihh… huhAhhhMFFSHHHH! RuhahhhGNSSMFFF!

“Bless you.”

Greg nodded, but otherwise stayed frozen with his eyes shut and nose buried in damp tissues.

huhAHHGNSCHHH! HuhhRahhNSSCHHMF!

“Bless you,” Sherlock repeated. He frowned when the DI blew his nose and winced at the pressure in his sinuses. He might need to see a doctor after all.

“Christ. Sorry.” He shook his head as if trying to bring things back into focus. Sherlock waved off his apology and sighed before attempting to answer Lestrade’s earlier question.

“I can’t tell you what to do about your marriage,” he said slowly. “But I can tell you what will likely happen next. In two months she’ll want to come back. Actually, she won’t ask; she’ll just move her things back in and assume everything can go back to normal. She’ll apologize and make promises to never cheat again or go to marriage counseling or whatever ridiculous condition you want to set out for her. She’ll agree to anything you ask of her…at first.” Greg nodded as if giving Sherlock permission to say the next part. “But she won’t change—not really. She’ll have other affairs. She’ll repeat the pattern as long as possible because, even though she won’t stay faithful to you, she doesn’t want to be without you either.”

huh RuhhAHHSHHHooo!

“Sorry. Keeb going.”

“She’ll say whatever you want to hear to get you to agree to let her move back home. She’s manipulative and knows exactly how to get what she wants.”

“Why does she keep coming b bahh Ahh back?” His voice waivered and Sherlock didn’t answer until after Greg managed to coax out the nagging sneeze.

Ahh huhh…hah ahh…hhhRahhhSSCHHoo!

“She keeps coming back because you let her, you idiot.” One glance at Greg’s face and Sherlock realized that he could have done with a little more finesse with that last bit. He sighed and looked around his new flat before continuing. “You’re a soft place to land, Lestrade. You’re a…a safe haven for her when everything else is a mess. You give her an endless number of chances to right herself even when she doesn’t deserve it. And while I might be a genius, I still can’t figure out if that’s a character strength or weakness.”

“Sherlock Holmes admitting he doesn’t know something?”

“Shut up. While most people might find your endless patience an asset, it costs you—”

huhhNTSCHHHoo! hhRahhSHHHHooo!

“Dearly sometimes,” Sherlock finished. He handed Greg a couple tissues. “Bless you. You have a weakness for lost causes, Lestrade,” he said quietly.

“Not all causes are lost. Sometimes they just need a little more time to straighten things out.”

“Hmm.”

“She’s not going to straighten out though, is she?”

“No. I’m sorry,” Sherlock said and he was surprised to find that he genuinely meant it.

“Guess I knew that,” Greg said.

“Then why’d you ask me?”

“Oh this way I can blame you if the whole “bachelor life” thing blows up in my face.” He grinned and even Sherlock’s lips curled into something vaguely resembling a smile. They sat silently for a moment, letting the conversation settle. Greg could feel his mind slowing down and his eyes getting heavy.

HuhhahhTSCHHHooo!

He sneezed suddenly and was forced to catch it in his hands.

“You sound disgusting.”

“Thanks for that. I—heh ahh dammit heh…” He managed to at least get a tissue this time.

huh Huh…hhRahhNTSCHHoo! huhRahhhSSHHooo! Huhh hh…ruhhahhhSHHHOOO!

“Bless you. You really do sound terrible,” Sherlock said, standing up and grabbing the blanket. “Sleep. You’re going to owe me a really good case after all this sentimental nonsense.” Greg laughed as he stretched out on the sofa. “Here.” Sherlock threw the blanket over him and shoved the box of tissues against Greg’s chest. Then he went and flopped into an oversized chair by the fireplace and picked up his laptop.

“Hey, Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks, mate.”

A heavy sigh and epic eye roll was the last thing Greg registered before falling asleep.

[cally]

“You’re asking me for relationship advice? You must be desperate.”

Greg nodded, but otherwise stayed frozen with his eyes shut and nose buried in damp tissues.

huhAHHGNSCHHH! HuhhRahhNSSCHHMF!

“Bless you,” Sherlock repeated. He frowned when the DI blew his nose and winced at the pressure in his sinuses. He might need to see a doctor after all.

Hmmmm. Too bad they don't know one yet. Poor Gregory. He sounds so awful, the poor thing.

[AngelEyes]

Greg sighed and leaned his head back. He really was exhausted. And he didn’t feel well. And his marriage was a wreck.

This just made me sad for the poor dear.

“I’ve tried it my way a half dozen times and always end up right back here. Tell me what I should do.”

“Get a tissue,” Sherlock said.

LOL. He's so literal sometimes.

“I can’t tell you what to do about your marriage,” he said slowly. “But I can tell you what will likely happen next.

I love his approach. It's actually eloquently tactful.

You have a weakness for lost causes, Lestrade,” he said quietly.

He does. And it's telling and a bit sad that Sherlock seems to lump himself in there.

[matilda3948]

Ugh. Been soooo busy with work the last couple of weeks that I haven't had time to write the way I want to. This sick Sherlock idea has been nagging at me for a while and I finally got it done Enjoy!

Light, Control, Harsh, Defeat

“Right, well all I need is your statements but they can wait until tomorrow,” Lestrade said to John and Sherlock. They’d just finished solving a particularly gruesome homicide and Greg was happy to let the two men go home and get some sleep before giving their formal statements. They’d all been on the go nonstop for the last three days and in another hour it would be light out. Every last one of them was exhausted.

“Let’s do them now,” Sherlock said. His friends looked surprised. Getting Sherlock to give a statement was always like pulling teeth. “I’m busy tomorrow,” he said impatiently.

“Yeah, alright. Come with me,” Greg said, leading them towards his car.

After taking down both men’s account of the case, Greg called them a cab to take them back to Baker St. John got in first and Sherlock slid in next to him. The younger man leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

“You alright?” John asked.

“Fine.” Sherlock sat up straight and stared out the window. John looked at him. The pale streetlights accentuated the dark circles under Sherlock’s eyes and the pale tone to his skin. John figured he didn’t look much better considering they’d had little more than half hour snatches of sleep for the last several days. Still…there was something off…

“What have you got planned for tomorrow?” John asked.

“What?”

“You told Greg you were busy tomorrow. That’s why we did our statements tonight.”

“I am busy tomorrow.”

“With what?” John asked. Sherlock closed his eyes and John thought he had simply drifted off into his mind palace (or decided John’s question was simply too stupid to answer). A few seconds later, however, Sherlock turned towards the window muffling a harsh sneeze into the bend of his arm.

ahhngsschhh!

“Bless you,” John said. Sherlock nodded and straightened back up. He sniffled softly and quietly cleared his throat. “You feeling alright?”

“Fi—hah ahhngssshhh! Fine.” The sleeve of his Belstaff absorbed another punishing sneeze.

“Bless you. Out of curiosity, am I busy tomorrow as well?”

“Not sure yet,” Sherlock said.

As soon as they got home, Sherlock went to his room without saying another word. John put the kettle on to boil then quickly changed into pajamas ready to sleep for the next ten hours. He was coming downstairs when he heard a harsh, throaty cough coming from his flatmate’s room. Frowning, John fixed them each a cup of tea and went to Sherlock’s room.

“Can I come in?” he called. When Sherlock didn’t answer, John nudged the door open. He assumed Sherlock was somewhere under the mound of blankets in the center of the bed. After putting both cups of tea down on the bedside table, John lifted a corner of the blanket. The sight that met him wasn’t unfamiliar—it was something that happened after an especially difficult case. Sherlock was curled up on his side, eyes unfocused, mind miles away. They’d never really talked about it—this still silence that he would sometimes retreat into. John assumed it was a coping mechanism, a way to power down his mind after pushing himself for so long. The first time he’d witnessed the ritual he was worried that something was very wrong, but the next morning Sherlock seemed completely back to normal (well, Sherlock’s version of normal). Sometimes he slept; sometimes he just laid very still and silent for hours. John reached over and pressed his hand to Sherlock’s forehead. “Might be running a bit a fever,” he said even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “You didn’t just start feeling bad tonight, did you? Been keeping everything under control until the case was over?” John thought Sherlock’s eyes flicked up towards him but he just as well may have been imagining it. He was definitely not imagining the faint wrinkling of Sherlock’s nose though, nor the way his nostrils widened slightly with each breath. Slowly, he brought a single hand up covering his nose and mouth as his eyes fluttered shut.

huh ahh Ahh—hhktssschhhoo! ahhNKTsschhhoo! Ahh hahh…hhahhKTSCHHoo!

He curled in on himself as he sneezed, shaking the bed with each violent expulsion.

“Bless you,” John said. “I’m going to get you some ibuprofen and tissues.”

He was back after a short trip upstairs. John took a long sip of his own tea, before grabbing a couple tissues and reaching underneath the blankets. He felt Sherlock’s hand brush against his, taking the tissues and then winced when he heard the stuffy, nasal blow that came next.

“Sit up for a minute and take these pills,” John said. After a moment of inactivity, the doctor put his hand on something that was likely Sherlock’s shoulder. “Come on. I won’t make you talk and you can go right back to your blanket cave when you’re done but I want to keep your fever in check.”

The blankets were suddenly tossed aside and Sherlock moved into a semi-sitting position. John gave him the pills first and then his tea. He would have been surprised by how quickly Sherlock’s health had deteriorated if hadn’t seen it so many times before. If illness was inconvenient, it was as though Sherlock could simply order it into submission…for a while. Eventually, when the danger passed or the riddle was solved, whatever his immune system was fighting came roaring back in full force. Speaking of things roaring back in full force, Sherlock suddenly ducked his head with an unexpected sneeze, doing his best to stifle it against his wrist while not spilling his tea.

hhNGtschh!

“Bless you,” John quickly grabbed the half-full cup and put the box of tissues close—Sherlock was clearly not done. His breath was coming in frantic little gasps, head tipping back slightly with each one. Sherlock just managed to get a handful of tissues up to his irritated nose before sneezing.

heh ahh ahhNKtschhoo! hhNKSHHHoo! ahhssnktschhooo!

“Bless you, Sherlock.”

hehAHHsnksshhh! SNKTSCHHH! hhGNTCHHooo!

“And again,” John said quietly. Sherlock didn’t answer, instead blowing his nose into the soggy wad of tissues pressed to his nose. “You do sound awful. I suppose this is what we're both busy with tomorrow, isn't it? You felt it coming on hard." John kept talking softly as his friend blew his nose again before coughing into his fist. "Want the rest of your tea?” Sherlock held out a hand and John passed it over. We watched the younger man as they both finished their tea. Sherlock looked done in; the sooner he got to sleep the better. John had temporarily forgotten his own fatigue but could feel it steadily creeping back in. “Come on,” the doctor said. “Let’s get you sorted out.” Sherlock slid down and pulled a sheet up to his chin. John untangled a knit blanket and put that over him next before topping it all off with a thick duvet. Sherlock hadn’t pulled everything over his head yet and John sat down on the bed next to him. “You need anything else?” he asked. Sherlock didn’t say anything, but John knew there was something missing or he would have retreated into the blanket cave. “Tissues?” John asked, putting the box within reach. Sherlock pulled the box underneath, taking one and rubbing his nose in it…but that still wasn’t the right answer. “Want me to stay?” John asked. Immediately Sherlock’s head disappeared under the blankets. John rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the fond smile that tugged at his lips as he stretched out on the bed. He yawned and switched off the bedside lamp.

hehgnktsschhoo! ahhsngkSHHHoo!

John patted the sniffling mound of blankets next to him and tugged just enough of the duvet to cover himself up as well. “Bless you.”

[cally]

Awwwwwwwww. Poor thing's all worn out. I love how you've described Sherlock's coping mechanisms, and him needing John to stay was just perfectly perfect.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! The poor babe! Love him knowing it was coming on and doing the paperwork early so he wouldn't have to tell Lestrade. And, of course, his silent communication with John: head out of nest = still needing something.

[Seniorstatus14]

Awww sick Sherlock!!! I can just never get enough of sick Sherlock and caring John! This is so so good!

[AngelEyes]

Awww. This is so perfect. Sherlock willing off the illness until convenient and knowing it was going to hit and telling Lestrade he would be busy. The blanket nest, I can so picture it!

[rockblock706]

This is adorable! Poor Sherlock didn't get to say anything because he was sneezing so much-I love it!

[ID2006]

Awwwww, it's perfect.

[stargazer]

Sick Sherlock is absolutely adorable.

[matilda3948]

Since some of the other beautifully talented writers are providing us with such wonderful Mystrade, I thought I'd do some Sherlock and Molly. Takes a while for the sneezing to come in, but hopefully it will be worth it

Drabbles: Anticipation, Holdback, Confess

“Well, that could have gone better,” Sherlock said to himself as he stretched out on the sofa. Thankfully his nose had stopped bleeding—John had a mean right hook. He was pretty sure his nose was broken and his head was throbbing with pain. Sherlock heard footsteps on the stairs and felt his hopes surge for a moment at the thought that it was John. But the steps were too soft, to quick—Molly, he realized. She knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer.

“Sherlock? Are you alright?” she asked.

“Did John send you?”

“Sorry, no. It was uh…Mycroft actually. He said things didn’t got particularly well and said you might—oh! What happened to your nose?” She’d finally made her way over to the sofa and caught sight of his face.

“John wasn’t as pleased to see me as I’d imagined.”

“No wonder Mycroft said you needed a doctor. Sit up and let me take a look.” Molly sat on the edge of the coffee table so she was directly across from him once he hauled himself into a sitting position. She gently probed his cheek bones and around his eye sockets before lightly running her fingers over the bridge of his nose. Sherlock winced and Molly pulled her hands back. “Sorry. You know it’s broken, right?” Sherlock nodded. “John did this?” she asked.

“I confess, I might have mishandled announcing my return.”

Molly thought he looked tired—not just “need a good night’s sleep tired” but the kind of bone-deep fatigue that came from months of little sleep and stress.

“You should let me set it before you go to bed,” she said.

“You don’t need to,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t set your own broken nose.” She got up and went into the kitchen, not surprised to find it well-stocked. Mrs. Hudson deserved sainthood. Molly grabbed an icepack from the freezer, some paper towels, and wet a towel in the kitchen sink. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is going to hurt. Sherlock gave a hollow laugh. What was a broken nose compared to what he’d been through in the last two years? Molly braced her thumbs on his chin, placing her index and middle fingers at the bridge of his nose where she could feel the crooked angle of the bone she needed to snap back into place. “Ready?” she asked.

“Just do it,” he said, closing his eyes in anticipation of the pain he knew was coming. With one single jerk, Molly realigned the bones. Sherlock hissed in pain and his eyes watered profusely as spots danced through his vision.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Let me make sure I got it.” She had a paper towel in her hand in case his nose began to bleed again, but she used it to wipe the tears from his eyes instead. After making sure the bone structure of his nose was once again straight, she got the damp towel and cleaned up the remnants of Sherlock’s earlier nose bleed. “Probably going to have a couple of black eyes, but your face should be good as new before you know it.”

“You’re too good to me, Molly Hooper.” His voice was low and his shoulders slumped forward. Molly was speechless. Sherlock sniffed and she actually thought he might be about to cry, but he suddenly turned his head and sneezed into his hands.

hahhtsschhoo!

“Dammit,” he hissed as pain rippled through his nose and eyes.

“Bless you,” Molly said. “Are you okay?” Sherlock stayed still with his hands steepled in front of his nose and mouth.

“Hahh have to sneeze ahh…” He blinked rapidly and held his breath. Despite his best efforts to hold back the tickle, the moment Sherlock took a breath his body shuddered with another sneeze.

huhAHHktschhhoo!

“Bless you.”

ahh Ahh hhKTschhhhoo!

Molly frowned as she watched the color drain from Sherlock’s face. The pain of sneezing with a broken nose was obviously excruciating.

“If you can’t hold it back, try and sneeze through your mouth as much as possible,” she said.

huhAHHktsschhhoo!

“Oh, bless you Sherlock. Come on and lay back so I can put this icepack on your face.”

“Whaahh Ahh…why?”

“I think you’re sneezing because of all the swelling. It happens sometimes when there’s trauma to the nose or sinus cavities. Swelling puts pressure on the nerves which triggers—”

huhAhhktschhhoo! hhTSSHHHoo!

“—a sneezing fit,” she finished. Molly got up and sat at one end of the sofa and put a cushion on her lap. “Come on, Sherlock, put your head down.”

He hesitated for only a moment before laying down and resting his head in Molly’s lap. One look at his and she knew her theory was correct. Sherlock was breathing through his mouth, his sinuses and nose were visibly swollen and the skin under his eyes was already starting to bruise. His eyes were watering of their own volition—he looked like he was suffering from the world’s worst allergy attack.

“Let’s try putting the ice on; the sooner the swelling goes down the sooner you’ll stop sneezing.”

“Hold hahh Ahh…”

He cupped his hands a couple inches away from his face, his upper body raising up off her lap each time he sneezed.

huhAHHktschhoo! hhAHHtsschhooo! ahh Ahh hhKTschhhhoo!

“Bless you, Sherlock.”

He groaned as he settled down again. Molly gently laid the icepack across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Feeling bold, she ran her fingers through his hair and smiled as she felt him relax a little.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said quietly.

“At least someone’s glad I’m back.”

“Stop that,” Molly said. “He’s just going to need some time, Sherlock. Just give him some time.”

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Awww! Poor Sherlock! He just cannot catch a break then, can he?

[cally]

“This is going to hurt. Sherlock gave a hollow laugh. What was a broken nose compared to what he’d been through in the last two years?

Oh Sherlock. You poor, poor thing.

[bangbang]

Umm, excuse me, I did not give you permission to make me feel things??

Molly. Oh, Molly, poor steadfast loyal loving Molly. She's probably one of my favourite characters, and you write her so beautifully. And Sherlock. He's so weary and God I am super sad for him in this. (As an aside, I LOVE the idea that Mycroft calls Molly - something about those two characters interacting makes me really happy? IDK why?)

[darkness-is-the-light]

You can also get a cold/sinus infection from almost breaking or completely breaking your nose. This happens because of the disruption inside your sinuses...

I should know, it's happened to me before.

I don't really like Sherlock (the show itself), but I thought I'd put that out there for the others.

[mystic-chibi]

Oh I especially like this most recent one. You write Molly so well!

[ID2006]

Yay Sherlock sneezes... happy happy day!

[Seniorstatus14]

Oh my goodness! That was so perfect! Post-Sherlock Return angst I love it Sherlolly for life! <3

[AngelEyes]

Yay Sherlock!!!! This is wonderful! You set it so seamlessly to the episode I totally believe it. Of course Molly comes to care for Sherlock, because she is absolutely a saint. I love how Sherlock is slightly bewildered and sad that things hadn't played out like he expected. John wasn't overjoyed to see him. He hit him. What went wrong? "Perhaps, I may have mishandled the reunion..." The sneezing fit! Poor poor dear!!! Is it bad that I want to romp him anyway? A distraction from the pain....really....