Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[cally]

A little something for the Mystrade fans

You are perfect too.

This was so, so lovely.

[matilda3948]

Thanks all!! Continuation of yesterday's drabbles because so many people like poor, sneezy Greg

#35 Making Dinner

“Gregory, wake up.” Mycroft smoothed a hand over his detective inspector’s messy hair. Based on the number of tissues scattered around the bed and the empty cups on the bedside table, it looked as though Greg had barely been out of bed all day. Gradually the sick man’s eyes fluttered open. “I suspect I know the answer, but I still feel obliged to ask how you’re feeling?” Greg tried to answer but the only noise he made was a hoarse squeak. “Oh, Gregory,” Mycroft sighed. There was a half-full glass of water on the bedside table and Mycroft helped Greg sit up before handing it to him. Finally Greg was able to clear his throat enough to speak, though his voice was deep and raspy.

“I’b sorry. I meant to clean all this up before you got hobe.”

“I could care less about a tidy bedroom at the moment,” Mycroft said.

“Ab I dying?”

“Please don’t joke about that,” he said, handing Greg a couple tissues.

“Sorry, love.” His nose flared as the tickle that had plagued him all day intensified once again. hehh huhh…huhhRAHHHntssshhooooo! heehhraahhNTSCHHH! hhhGNTSCHHHHooo! Even his sneezes sounded exhausted, still forceful but quieter, though Mycroft suspected that was only because his throat was so raw that his voice was giving out.

“God bless you Gregory. I had hoped you’d feel better after resting all day.”

hehhRAHHsngtschhoo! hhhhGNTSSCHHoo!

“God bless you again.” Mycroft pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “You sound terribly congested.”

“Thag you. I ab.” Greg took the handkerchief and blew his nose three times before he was finally able to get a small amount of relief.

“I’ll get you more of those,” Mycroft said, going to his bureau and coming back with a stack of clean handkerchiefs. “Now then, I can see you’ve had water, tea, and cough drops today, but what have you eaten?”

“Umm…”

“Just as I thought. Well, you’re in luck because I’m making dinner.”

#64 Spices

“You cooked?” Greg asked.

“Don’t be absurd. I ordered from Parker’s and picked it up on my way home.”

“Did you get—”

“Of course I did,” Mycroft said, knowing that Greg was referring to their chicken and dumpling soup. They’d gone there for dinner once and Greg had raved about the uniquely mix of spices in the soup. Mycroft suspected if there was one thing he could get the ill man to eat, this would be it.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Greg said.

“In order to recover you need to eat and I know your appetite tends to suffer when you’re under the weather.”

“Let me get up and I’ll come downstairs.” Mycroft put a hand on Greg’s chest and stopped him.

“Why not stay in bed? I’ll bring it up to you.”

“But you hehh…” He held up finger and grabbed a handkerchief. hehhNTSCHHooo! RahhhSNDSCHHOOOO! hhhraahhhGTSSCHHHOOOOO!!

“Oh, God bless you Gregory.”

“ThaahhRAHHHSSSCHHOOOO!!” He groaned and blew his nose. “Scuse be.”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you. You never eat in bed. It’s…what do you call it…pedestrian and unhygienic.” Mycroft smirked at Gregory’s hoarse, stuffy impression.

“True, I don’t care for it, but I care for you more,” he said. Greg smiled.

“Thank you, love but I could use to get up and stretch my legs anyway. I’ve been laying around all day.”

“If you insist.” Mycroft moved aside and let Greg get up. As soon as he was up from under the thick duvet, he shivered.

#40 Suffer

Mycroft pulled the blanket off the bed and brought it downstairs with them.

“Sit down, Gregory,” he said, nodding towards the sofa. As soon as he was settled, Mycroft spread the blanket over him. “I’ll be back with our dinner.” Greg sighed and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. He didn’t want to admit it, but the trip from the bedroom to the living room had taken a surprising amount of energy. His nose was simultaneously completely stuffed up and, somehow, constantly in danger of dripping. His breath caught again and, as he had countless times before that day, Greg held a handkerchief at the ready.

hehh…huhh Uhh huhhRuhhGNTSSCHHOO! hhhAHHSNTSCHHoooo! huhhaahhRSSCHHOOOO!

“God bless you,” Mycroft said, coming back into the room with a tray with two bowls of soup and some fresh bread. He put the tray down on the table and sat down next to his lover…whose nose seemed undecided about whether or not to sneeze again. He was frozen with a torturous pre-sneeze grimace etched on his face.

Hehh EHH…huhAHH His eyes watered as the tickle continued to torment his nose. hihhehh Hehh…huhh…Finally huhhEHHTSSSCHHOOO! hhhGNTSSCHHH! RahhSSHHOOOO! HuhhRAHHHKTSSSCHH! He bent at the waist with each wrenching sneeze. He blew his nose and rubbed it harshly before sitting back up. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment while he waited for the world to stop spinning.

“Gregory, God bless you!” Mycroft said. “I hate to see you suffer like this.”

“Ugh. I feel bloody awful,” he said. Mycroft leaned over and kissed Greg on the forehead.

“Hmm. Fever’s up too. Eat some and I’ll get you more medicine and help you back to bed.”

[cally]

These were perfect and just what I needed. Poor, poor Gregory, though.

[ID2006]

Awe... or should I say awesome. Poor Gregory needs some love.

[Spoo]

Those sneezes, man. So great! This part made me laugh:

“Thank you. You never eat in bed. It’s…what do you call it…pedestrian and unhygienic.” Mycroft smirked at Gregory’s hoarse, stuffy impression.

“True, I don’t care for it, but I care for you more,” he said.

And then it made me go: "Awwwww."

[matilda3948]

I...um...yeah...

#18 Dust

The Woman came out from around the corner, a wicked grin on her face.

“Bit of a dramatic setting, don’t you think?” Sherlock asked, gesturing around the abandoned warehouse. “You must really be trying to avoid someone.”

“You’re feisty today, aren’t you?” She walked towards him and he couldn’t help but notice how Irene resembled a cat playing with its prey just before gulping it down.

“How exactly can I assist England’s most elite dominatrix?” he asked.

“Oh I have a list,” she purred. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. For now I need you to hold onto something for me.”

“Is it illegal?”

“No.”

“Toxic?”

“No.”

“Explosive?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Irene said, kneeling down in one of the far corners of the warehouse. She brushed off the old wooden floor. Sherlock crouched down next to her. She tapped a lacquered nail on the third board. “Pull that up for me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“You are mouthy today,” Irene purred. “I may have to teach you a lesson.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Fine.” She got up on her knees and brushed Sherlock’s wavy hair behind his ear, before whispering, “Please, sir. Pry up the floorboard for me?”

Sherlock felt a small thrill—not from Irene’s sultry voice, but from being able to manipulate her into doing what he asked (no easy feat). He decided to reward her good behavior. He used a credit card to get under the seam of the floorboards and then pried two of them up. Irene reached down into the space underneath the floor and pulled out a small box, slightly larger than a deck of cards. She blew a thick layer of desk off the surface. Almost immediately, Sherlock crinkled his nose and sniffled. Irene’s eyes darted up. She watched his nostrils flare slightly and he rubbed his index finger against his nose.

“You’re not?” She grinned. “Really? Dust?”

#87 Induce

He wanted to deny it, he simply hated that she’d figured out his allergy in approximately seven seconds and he really, really hated that he was about to sneeze in front of her—not because of her admitted fetish, but because he didn’t want anyone to see him in a vulnerable state. And that especially included Irene Adler.

For her part, she looked positively gleeful. She knelt back on her heels and watched him struggle to hold back the inevitable. Sherlock’s eyes were watering and he didn’t dare take his finger out from under his nose. He tried to breathe through his mouth to keep anymore dust from getting inside his nose. He rubbed his nose with his fist and his breath caught.

“You poor thing,” Irene cooed. “You must be terribly allergic to dust.” He tried to glare, but his eyes were too irritated.

hhhNXTsss! He barely managed to contain the fierce sneeze.

“Bless you,” she said. Sherlock violently shook his head, the itch finally overwhelming his resolve. He took a massive, shuddering breath and snapped forward with a fit of sneezes.

hhGNTSHH! NGXTss! NKTSS! KTSSHH! huhh hhhAHHNKTSSHHHooo! The last sneeze was wild and unrestrained. He aimed it toward the floor and a cloud of dust rushed up into the air.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, desperately trying to get a handkerchief out of his coat pocket before the dust cloud induced another sneezing fit.

#68 Caught in the Act

He managed to scramble to his feet, clutching the white handkerchief over his nose and mouth—as much to keep the dust out as to keep the sneezes in.

hehhMFsschhoo! hehhMSSHHooo! huh-AHHKTSSHHHoo!

“Bless you! My, my…you are absolutely out of control aren’t you?” Irene asked, standing. She brushed off her skirt and walked a slow circle around him.

“I’b leaving.” He managed three steps before doubling over again. hehhAHH’SHHHOOO! KTSSCHHOO! KTSSSHHHOOOO! Three steps closer to the door. hhhEHHSSSHHH! KTSSHHH! ahhNTSSHHHoooo! He pinched his nose in the damp fabric. When he finally managed to open his teary eyes he found Irene standing in front of him, arms crossed, a naughty smirk on her lips.

“Do you need help getting to the door?” she asked. This time he did manage to glare.

“You kndow hhNTSCHH! I do!” he snapped. She closed the distance between them.

“Ask me nicely,” she said. He turned and made it all of two steps before being overwhelmed by the dust again. Hehh hhhNTSHHHHooo! KTSSHOOOO! hehhAHHktsshhhOOO!

“Pleehh…please hehh hhhNXTss! NXTSSCHH! please help be outside.” He gave a watery sniffle. She put an arm around his waist, easing him towards the building’s exit.

“Your begging needs work. No one’s trained you properly,” she said. Sherlock had never been so glad for the chilly, damp London air as he was when they finally made it outside. Not that it would immediately halt his symptoms, but at least he wasn’t inhaling more dust with each breath. Irene tightened her hold on him and patted him on the chest. “Such an allergy attack,” Irene hummed. She felt his chest expand with another series of fluttery, pre-sneeze breaths. Slowly, she let her hand slide to his upper abdomen, the muscles tightening in the seconds just before he sneezed again.

hehh…hihh huhhIXTSCHH! Ktsshhhooo! TSSCHHOOO! huhhAHHKTSSHHOOO!

“Goodness! Bless you, Sherlock.” After blowing his nose and wiping his teary eyes, Sherlock fixed her with a look.

“You can stop pretending to hold me up,” he said, but she made no move to take her hand off his body despite being caught in the act.

“You asked for my help.” He suddenly covered her hand with his own, pressing her hand to his stomach. Irene gasped. Sherlock traced his thumb across the back of her hand and watched her eyes. She was rattled—aroused, unsure of herself, and (the biggest of all sins in their world) vulnerable. Just as he suspected, Irene dropped her hand and took a step back. “You’ll look after this for me?” she asked, holding up the box they’d gone in there to retrieve.

“For how long?”

“For as long as I want. I’ll come back for it when I’m ready.” She slipped it into his coat pocket.

“Going to give me any hints?” he asked, scrubbing at his nose again.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She smoothed her hair back. “Until next time, dear.”

hhNGTSHH! NXTSHH! KTSSHHOOO!

“God bless you my pet!” she called over her shoulder.

[cally]

Every time you write one of these drabbles, I reply from the afterlife. /deaded

I am in awe, Matilda!

[VoOs]

This scenario is just blazing hot to me. Ohh, and Irene... I love how shameless she is about enjoying his misery.

[matilda3948]

This scenario is just blazing hot to me. Ohh, and Irene... I love how shameless she is about enjoying his misery.

Thank you! Love writing a character who has almost no boundaries

Today I've got some allergic Molly and one with Mary and Sherlock (perhaps the most bizarre relationship ever) which I may continue with in future drabbles. Hope you like!

#27 Garden

She knew working with him was temporary. John would (eventually) forgive him and Sherlock would grow tired of working with her. Plus, she wasn’t sure working with him was the best thing for her. Her life was good, she was getting married, and being around Sherlock made her head…fuzzy.

Today that wasn’t the only thing making her head fuzzy though. She and Sherlock were examining a murder victim dumped in Kew Gardens. Well, Sherlock was examining the body and the surrounding area while Molly walked along behind him, apparently serving as his audience more than his assistant. If Molly had known they were going to a garden she would have doubled up on her allergy medication. The pollen was already affecting her, making her eyes water and her nose itch and run. It was a warm day and there was a gentle breeze. She couldn’t figure out how Sherlock was still in his coat—how could he not be too hot? Molly’s vision blurred as her eyes watered and she had to wipe tears off her lower lashes. She knew what was coming next. It was what she’d been dreading since the cab pulled up to the scene. She pinched her nose and tried to keep as quiet as possible.

Tisshh! KTisshh! HihhTSHHH!

If Sherlock noticed he didn’t say anything. He was crouched down to the ground and was running his hand over the grass.

Schishh! Tsishhh! HihKTSHH!

“That’s new,” he said, rising off the ground and brushing off his coat.

“Sorry. What’s new?”

“Your hay fever. You didn’t have allergies when I left.” She walked alongside him back to where Lestrade was holding back his team until Sherlock was done. He nodded and the detective inspector let his team get to work. Molly rubbed her eyes.

“Been getting worse every spring for the last few years,” she said. Kitsshh! HihhTSHHH! tisshhOOO! They were getting harder to hold back the longer she was outside.

“Bless you. Seems like many things changed in the last few years.” He tilted his head and looked her over. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was beginning to get pink around the edges. “Came on quickly,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her.

“If I’d known we were going to a garden I’d have taken somethehh…hihh something.” HihhTSHH! KTSSHHoo! HihhTSSSHHOOOO!

“I didn’t think to—”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” she said. “So, did you get what you needed here?”

“Of course. I’ll let Lestrade think it’s taking me a day or two to figure it out before I tell him.” Molly laughed then sneezed. HihhTSSSHHHOOO!! “Bless you, Molly. Come on, back to work.”

#50 Quarrel

Sherlock had been home from the hospital all of 48 hours when there was a knock on his door. It wasn’t John, Mrs. Hudson, or Greg—they’d all just walk in. He groaned as he hoisted himself out of his chair, his injury still smarting when he moved. He opened the door.

“Mary?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said. She was soaking wet, obviously had been walking in the rain for a while.

“What happened?” he asked, holding the door open so she could come in. Mary just shook her head. Sherlock took her by the shoulders. “Where’s John? Is he okay?” She nodded.

“We had a fight…again. He was so, so angry and I left. I walked around for ages until I ended up here.” Sherlock ran a tired hand over his face. Seemed like all the Watsons did was quarrel these days. He was ready for John to forgive his wife (as he knew he eventually would) because they had work to do. Instead he had a dripping wet, chilled, pregnant former assassin in his doorway.

Ahhtsshooo! Ahhktsshooo!

“Come on,” Sherlock said. He grabbed a couple towels from the hall closet and handed them to her. Then he all but collapsed on the sofa. “John left some clothes in his bedroom closet. Change into something dry or you’ll get sicker. I’d offer to make you some tea but I’m too tired. You know, still recovering from being shot.”

“Again, so sorry about that,” she said. Sherlock waived a hand in her direction—his universal sign for ‘move on.’ “If only John were so forgiving,” she said as she turned and started up the stairs. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and listened to her movements. She was moving slowly, probably a combination of her budding cold and being pregnant. He heard her sneeze twice then go to the bathroom and blow her nose before coming back downstairs. Wordlessly she went to the kitchen and fixed them both tea. She sat down on the sofa next to him.

“He will forgive you,” Sherlock said, picking up their earlier conversation. “He forgave me and he doesn’t like me nearly as much as he likes you. Give him time.”

“How do you feel?” Mary asked.

“Like I was shot.” She slid over and put her head on his shoulder.

“Want to feel the baby kick?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just reached down and put his hand on her stomach. Sherlock felt the jumping in her abdomen.

“That is…very unnerving,” he said, glad when his mobile beeped so he had a reason to pull his hand away. He glanced at his text.

Is she with you? –JW

Yes. –SH

Take her temperature. She’s fighting a cold. –JW

You could just come get her –SH

John didn’t respond and Sherlock sighed and tossed his phone to the side. He turned to Mary and put a hand on her forehead, then grabbed his phone.

No fever. –SH

Thank you –JW

“See?” Sherlock said, nodding towards his phone. “He’s worried.”

Ahhtsshhoo! ahhTSHHOOO! Mary grabbed a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose.

“Bless you,” he said.

“Thanks. I guess worried is something,” Mary said, rubbing her stomach. “You look tired,” she said, noting Sherlock’s pale complexion. “We should both turn in. I’m sick and you’re still recovering. Can I sleep in John’s old room?”

“Get an extra blanket from the hall closet. John always complained that room was colder than the rest of the flat.” He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can I…feel that again?” He nodded towards her stomach. She nodded and put his hand on the baby’s favorite place to kick. A few seconds later Sherlock felt Baby Watson stir and kick against Mary’s belly. “Hmm…yes, most unnerving.”

[cally]

I totally love Allergic!Molly.

[Dusty15]

WOWZA. The Woman with Allergic!Sherlock is something I never knew I liked so much until now! *drool* Such lovely imagery, Matilda!!

[ID2006]

I actually really really like the Mary Sherlock one. And I love the texts between John and Sherlock. I do hope you continue it.

[matilda3948]

I actually really really like the Mary Sherlock one. And I love the texts between John and Sherlock. I do hope you continue it.

Thanks!! Here's a continuation of that story line.

#88 Jealousy

Sherlock woke after a few hours sleep—he felt slightly less awful than yesterday but there was still that persistent ache and stiffness surrounding his wound. Early morning light was filtering through the curtains and he decided to make the trek upstairs to check on Mary. She’d left to door open and he found her curled on her side, hands resting protectively over her swollen belly. Her nose was pink and her face was flushed. Sherlock suspected she had a fever so he reached out to check her forehead. His fingers had barely brushed the skin when she grabbed his wrist like a vice. Her eyes shot open and he made sure his face was in her field of vision. Mary let go of his wrist.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Feverish, just as he though.

“You’re feeling worse this morning. I need to let John know.” Sherlock watched relief, trepidation, and anxiety filter across her face in a matter of seconds. She sniffled twice, then turned her head to the side.

AhhKTSHHoo! HahhKTSHHoo! She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll ask John what’s safe for you to take in your condition,” Sherlock said, leaving the room.

He put the kettle on in the kitchen and grabbed his mobile.

She woke up with a fever. –SH

I’m on my way. –JW

Can she take anything? –SH

One paracetamol for now. Will know more when I see her. –JW

A minute later:

Thank you. –JW

Mary was curled up on one end of the sofa with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Sherlock handed her a cup of tea and one pill.

“John says this is all you can have for right now.” She nodded and swallowed it. He sat down next to her with a sigh—this lack of energy was really starting to wear on his nerves. There was work to do, but it was work that couldn’t get done until the Watsons were on better terms and he could go more than ten minutes without feeling like he needed a nap.

“You’re tired already, aren’t you?” Mary asked. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse this morning. “Those types of injuries do a number on your stamina.”

“So I’m learning,” he said, handing her a couple of tissues, noticing the look on her face.

Ahhh Hahh AhhKTSSHHoo! HahhNTSHHHoo! AhhNKSSHHHOOOO!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said.

“Thank you,” Mary said. “For…you know, everything.”

“He is going to come around, Mary.” She shivered and slid closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder the way she had the night before. He was, perhaps, the only person in the whole world who understood what she’d done and why she’d done it. She felt a little less completely hopeless knowing Sherlock was on her side.

When John came inside he found Mary asleep on Sherlock’s shoulder and…was he? Yes, Sherlock was asleep with his head tilted back. John felt a pang of jealousy—not because he found the two of them asleep together, but because they were so easily able to understand and forgive each other. She’d almost killed him and there they were, leaning against each other napping.

#11 Broody

John set his bag down and cleared his throat loudly enough that they both stirred.

“Morning John,” Sherlock said.

“I want to take a look at both of you,” John said, opening his bag. “You first,” he nodded towards Sherlock.

“John, I’m fine.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it, but last time you said you were fine you were suffering from internal bleeding.”

“Still broody I see,” Sherlock said.

“Shut up and lift your shirt.” Mary had been quiet up until this point, but interrupted.

“John, he’s—”

“I’ll get to you in a minute,” John said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and lifted his shirt, letting John pull the bandage off and examine the wound. “Stitches look good. No sign of infection.”

Mary sneezed. HahhKTSHH! AhhSHHOO! ahhKTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” John said, getting a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her. He re-bandaged Sherlock’s torso. “You’re healing well.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm. John turned his attention to his wife.

“You were sneezing yesterday. I see that hasn’t improved,” he said.

“No,” she said. “Bit worse actually.” John got a thermometer out of his bag and handed it to her. Mary slipped it under her tongue. Sherlock observed their interaction. John had two, maybe three more weeks of the cold shoulder before he finally gave in and forgave her. Right around Christmas would be his guess. When the thermometer beeped he looked at it and frowned.

“How long ago did you take the paracetamol?”

“An hour ago,” Sherlock said. Mary nodded her assent and grabbed the handkerchief.

ahhhTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” John said. She held up a finger, her breathing still uneven.

hehh ahh HahhKTSHHH! AhhhNTSSHOOO!

“Bless you. You sound congested,” John said. “How’s your throat?”

“Sore. The tea’s helped some.” John pressed his fingers to either side of her neck and checked her glands, then shone a light into her mouth to examine her throat. “Probably just a bad cold, but I don’t want to take any chances with you pregnant. You need to be at home in bed.” John stood and went to get her coat.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Yeah,” John sighed. “There’ll be plenty of time to argue when you’re well.” Mary stood and let John help her into her coat, then she walked back to Sherlock and kissed him on the forehead.

“Thank you for looking after me last night,” she said. He nodded. “Try putting heat on that,” she said, motioning towards his injury. “It’ll help keep the muscles loose.”

“Feel better, Mary.”

[ID2006]

This makes me feel all giddy inside.... good thing I dont have to make sense.

[Spoo]

Johnlockary feels. I really liked how Mary grabbed Sherlock's wrist; it's a nice detail that alludes to her past. Lovely!

[matilda3948]

Thanks, lovelies!! I'm supposed to be grading papers today, so of course I'm writing fanfiction instead I HATE grading, so I'm sure I'll have another update sometime tonight.

#30 Scent

Lestrade had called Sherlock and John to a bizarre crime scene on the north side of the city. He was waiting for the pair when they exited the cab.

“Dead man’s ID says he’s William Driver, thirty seven, asphyxiated around midnight.”

“So what did you need us for?” Sherlock asked.

“Go take a look at the scene,” Greg said. The men walked inside the small house and were immediately struck by an unusually strong scent. Then they saw why Lestrade had sent for them. The bedroom looked like an elaborate ritual site. There were unusual symbols drawn all over the walls, candles covering every surface, and tarot cards spread across the bed around the corpse.

Sherlock looked like a kid in a candy store. So much data at his fingertips. He moved around the perimeter of the room, cataloguing the contents and their positions. His thought process was interrupted by a squelched noise.

NGTSHH! hhGNSSHH! huhGNSSHHoo!

He turned to find John lifting his head from elbow. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in question.

“Sorry,” John sniffed. “Too many competing smells.” Sherlock nodded and got back to work.

#37 Incense

He paused at the bedside table and ran his fingers through the ash on the bedside table.

HehhNTSCHHoo! GNTSCHHHoo!

“Bless you. The ritual aspect of this crime was staged to make it look like a ceremonial killing.”

“How can you tell?” John asked.

“If this was a genuine ritualistic murder, the killer would have used golden copal or amber incense, possibly myrrh—they’re the only ones with ceremonial value. This killer burned sandalwood, lemongrass, and white sage.”

hhGNTsshhoo! HuhhAHHGNSSCHHOOO! John doubled over with the force of the second sneeze. Sherlock continued as if he never noticed the interruption.

“Consequently, that combination of incense sticks is sold in a variety pack from the bath shop around the corner. This man’s lover killed him and then tried to make it look like a staged ritualized killing.”

HehhAHH’SCHHOOO! huhGNSSSHHOOOO! There was no holding back the sneezes as this point.

“There are other clues, of course, but they can wait until we’re outside and you’re away from this irritating combination of fragrances,” Sherlock said.

#5 Itch

God, how could everything itch all at once? Molly wondered as she rubbed her eyes, then her nose, the her eyes again. Walking to work was obviously a mistake, but it was the first day of decent weather they’d had in ages and she couldn’t say no to the perfect London spring day. hhTSCHH! Ktshhoo! ahhKTSHH!

She was paying the price for it now though. Molly opened a fresh box of tissues and blew her nose before grabbing a couple more and holding them to her watery eyes. She heard the doors to the morgue open and she sniffled and tried to look presentable. She came out of her office to find Sherlock opening various drawers and pulling the sheets off her corpses and John standing off to the side looking peeved.

“What are you doing?” she asked, coming over and slapping Sherlock’s hand away from the late Mrs. Midland.

“It was either bring him here or risk him shooting holes in the wall at Baker Street. He’s been—” John stopped short when he caught sight of Molly’s face. “Molly, have you been crying?”

“Wrong!” Sherlock said. He took two steps towards her and studied her face. “Honestly John, sometimes I wonder how you passed your board exams.” Molly suddenly turned from the bickering men and sneezed into the bend of her arm.

hhKTSHHoo! NKTSHHHooo! ahhSNTSHHHooo!

“Bless you,” John said. “Hay fever then?” Molly nodded, but was overwhelmed by the itch plaguing her nose.

hehhNTSHHoo! ahhKTsschh! KTSCHH! NTSSCHH!!

“Here,” Sherlock said, putting a handkerchief within inches of her hands.

“Thahh ahh thanks” ahhTSCHH! KTSCHHOO!

“Bless you Molly!” John said. “I had no idea you had it this bad. Here, sit down.” He pulled one of the lab stools over and Molly dropped down. She blew her nose and folded the handkerchief in half before pressing it to her eyes. They were absolutely on fire and would tear up immediately after she sneezed.

#59 Apologize

John wheeled another stool over and sat across from Molly.

“You see a doctor for this?” he asked. “Your symptoms are pretty severe.” She lowered the cloth from her eyes, allergic tears clinging to her lashes.

“I take an over-the-counter medicine in the mornings, but it’s just not working well this morning.”

“You walked to work, didn’t you?” Sherlock asked, standing behind John. She bit her lip and nodded. He frowned and walked over to the lab sink, wetting a couple paper towels and bringing them over to her. “Don’t do that again,” he said. “Tilt your head back.” Once she had, Sherlock put the cool, damp paper towels over her eyes.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” she said, sniffling.

“Don’t apologize, Molly. We’re just concerned. Aren’t we, Sherlock?” John said. The consulting detective mumbled something and Molly smiled. John grabbed her stethoscope off her desk and told her he wanted to check her breathing. Satisfied that she wasn’t wheezing, he took the paper towels off her eyes and leaned close to take a look. “I can write you a prescription for some eyes drops. Allergy pills aren’t always terribly effective for your eyes.”

“Thank you, John,” she said. “And I promise no more waahh…heh walking to work.” hhKTSSCHH! Tschhoo! NKTSSOO! hehTSSHOOO!

“Bless you,” both men said in tandem. Sherlock clapped his hands together.

“Excellent. Now that that’s all sorted out, Molly, find me body with an unknown cause of death.”

[AngelEyes]

Love Sherlock being semi-distracted enough to care for Molly then immediately, Find me a corpse! Perfect!

[cally]

Love Sherlock being semi-distracted enough to care for Molly then immediately, Find me a corpse! Perfect!

Ditto!

[ID2006]

What they said. Oh Sherlock, you are such fun.

[matilda3948]

Thanks Two more before bed.

#32 Double

“No!” John said. “We are not taking on another case until you’re feeling better.”

“Johd, I’b fide.”

“Until you can pronounce my name without a ‘D’ on the end of it, you are not fide.” Sherlock scowled and stomped over the desk where there was a half-empty box of tissues. He blew his nose and coughed slightly before trying again.

“I’m recovering from a cold John. Recovering being the operative word. There’s no reason we can’t work a case.”

John crossed his arms and surveyed his roommate. He could see Sherlock’s nose twitching. The poor man hadn’t gone more than ten minutes without sneezing for the last four days and he was overdue. It was nearly as bad as when Sherlock had hay fever. Sherlock rubbed his nose and sniffed once; John smirked.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes,” he said with another sniff.

“You sure?” John asked. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and John it wasn’t because he was glaring—he was fighting off a sneeze.

“Positive,” he said, his voice wavering slightly.

“Good. Tell me what case you were thinking of taking.” Sherlock pressed a fist to his nose and rubbed it back and forth.

“Certainly. Thirty five year old womad found…” he paused, sniffed, and then resumed. “found dead in her home. Negative for drugs, neither a stroke, nor heart issue. The Yard haahh…has no idea hahh hehh how she died and…” It was a valiant effort, but ultimately, Sherlock couldn’t suppress the urge to sneeze indefinitely. hhNGTSHH! huhhGNKsshhooo!

“Bless you,” John said with a smug grin. “Now would you sit back down and let me bring you a cup of tea.”

“I’b so bored!” Sherlock cried, flopping down in his chair. “I need to work.”

“You need to rest.”

“But John—”

“How about a little wager, hmm? You go ten minutes without sneezing and we’ll take a case.”

“Deal.”

John sat down in the chair across from his friend and crossed his arms across his chest. The first five minutes were okay—an occasional sniffle or clearing of his throat, but Sherlock was determined. The closer they got to the ten minute mark the harder it got. He had to resort to rubbing his nose against his wrist. At eight minutes, his breath hitched twice and John was sure he’d won, but somehow Sherlock managed to hold it back at the last second. John had to admire his willpower…or stubbornness. In the end though, Sherlock was still at the mercy of his cold. Sometime around the nine-minute mark, the pattern was too much for even Sherlock to withstand.

Hehuhh…Hehh HuhhEXTSHHH! hhNXTSS! hehhSNGTSHH!

“Bless you,” John said.

hehhNTSCHH! NGTSSHH! huhhAHHNTSCHHOOOO! The final unrestrained sneeze bent him at the waist.

“Bless you, Sherlock!” John frowned, no longer worried about winning their bet.

“Let’s go again. Double or nothing.”

#56 Rest

John was resting on the sofa, drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep. He’d been sick for several days and had done little but move between his bed and the sofa. Sherlock was doing his best to not lose his mind out of utter boredom. John had encouraged him to go out and find a case to work on, but Sherlock insisted there was nothing out there that could possibly interest him. London’s criminals were boring him, he claimed. John saw it as the smokescreen that it was and was (secretly) glad that Sherlock was staying close by. He truly felt miserable. If he was awake he was sneezing or coughing or trying not to sneeze or cough. Yesterday he’d spiked a fever and had pretty much been horizontal ever since.

HehhNGTSSSHHHeew! He gasped hehhNTSSCHHHEEW!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said, his eyes flicking up from his laptop.

heh Hehh…hhhSNGSSHHHHEEEW!! John groaned and blew his nose, balling up the tissues and throwing them in the trashcan next to the sofa.

“Tea?” Sherlock asked. John just shook his head and shivered. Sherlock stood and got another blanket out of their hall closet. He spread it over his friend and then grabbed the thermometer off the coffee table. John shook his head. “John, not even I am as accurate as a thermometer. I need to—”

hhGNTSSHHHHEEEW! huhhSSSCHHTEEEW!

“Oh, right,” Sherlock said. “When you’re ready.” After John had a chance to blow his nose, he took the thermometer and slipped it under his tongue. When it beeped he glanced at it before handing it back to Sherlock. “You can have more medicine in an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“What can I do?” Sherlock asked.

“Nothing. I’m alright.”

A half hour later Sherlock was alerted by an odd sound—a pinched moaning sound. He was quickly at John’s side.

“John, what’s wrong?”

“Cramp,” he managed between clenched teeth.

“Your stomach?” Sherlock asked.

“No. Legs.”

Sherlock moved to the end of the sofa and pulled the blankets back. John’s calves were rigid and hard. He applied light pressure to his left calf and John flinched.

“Sorry.” Sherlock tried again, very gently rubbing the seized up muscle. Gradually, the cramp began to loosen and Sherlock was able to rub a little harder. He switched to the other leg and repeated the process until the worst of it was over. “You’re not getting enough liquids, John. You have to drink more until your fever breaks.” He went into the kitchen and came back with a large glass of water. “Sip that.” Sherlock went back to the foot of the sofa and lifted John’s legs so he could sit down, letting the sick man’s feet rest in his lap. He went back to massaging John’s calves now that the worst of the cramps had passed. Sherlock’s long, pale fingers kneaded the tight muscles, working from the knee down to the ankle, alternating between each leg.

hehh Ehh…John just managed to put the glass of water down before sneezing into cupped hands. HuhRahhNGTSSCHHeew! hehSNGSHHHHEEEW!

“God bless you, John.” Sherlock felt his leg muscles tighten again and applied more pressure.

“Ugh. Thag you,” John said. He blew his nose and drew the blanket up to his shoulders.

“John, don’t go to sleep until you finish that water. Otherwise your legs are just going to cramp up again.” John grumbled something unintelligible. Sherlock sighed in exasperation. “What is the first thing you doctors always tell people: get plenty of rest and lots of fluids. Now take your own profession’s advice and drink the water. Otherwise you’re on your own next time your calf muscles turn to concrete.” A smile tugged at John’s mouth and he picked the glass up off the floor and resumed sipping the water.

“Thags Sherlock.”

[AngelEyes]

Double or nothing! That cracked me up! And caring!Sherlock. Awww.

[cally]

2 of my favourite things, sick!Sherlock and caring!Sherlock.

[matilda3948]

Sick Sherlock

#55 Frost

He’d learned not to worry when Sherlock was out all night like this. Well, he tried not to worry but the weather was utterly miserable—switching between sleet and rain as the temperature hovered right around freezing. John had texted him once to make sure he was okay and Sherlock quickly replied that except for the interruption he was fine. That was four hours ago and he still wasn’t home.

Finally, he heard the door open and Sherlock’s unique tread up the stairs. The consulting detective game in and sighed.

“Long night?” John asked, without glancing up from the journal he was reading. When Sherlock didn’t answer he raised his eyes and frowned. Sherlock had his hands steepled in front of his face, his head tilted back slightly, and his eyes closed. John watched the crease between his eyes deepen as he took an audible breath before pitching forward with a quiet, but strong, sneeze. Huhh HuhhNGTSSHH!

“Bless you,” John said, getting up from his chair. “You alright?” Sherlock nodded, but neither dropped his hands, nor opened his eyes.

huhh huhhGNTSHHHoo!

“Bless you again.” John walked over to his desk and grabbed a couple tissues from the box. He handed them to his friend and finally got a good look at him. There was frost on his jacket that was quickly melting and dripping onto the floor. His nose and ears were tinted red from the cold and he looked unfocused (something John was not used to seeing). “Hey? You alright?” John repeated, laying a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. He sniffed and rubbed his nose against his wrist.

“Fine.” He shrugged out of his coat and took off his scarf. John didn’t miss the way Sherlock shivered.

“Cuppa?” John asked. Sherlock nodded and brought the balled up tissues back to his nose suddenly. hhSNTSCHH! HuhhGSNSSHHoo! John frowned. “Bless. Did you catch a cold out there in this weather?”

“Impossible,” Sherlock said, rubbing his nose in the tissues. “Incubation time for the average rhinovirus is 48 – 72 hours.” John rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Did you go out in this miserable weather knowing you were coming down a cold and make it worse?”

“Possibly.”

#67 Frustrated

“Go sit down,” John said, going into the kitchen. Sherlock snagged the box of tissues and dropped down onto the sofa. He sniffled wetly and instantly felt his head swell with a fierce tickle. Sherlock’s nose wrinkled as he tried to soothe the itch that settled at the bridge of his nose. He folded several tissues in half and held them several inches from his face, his breath coming in deep vocal huffs. Huhh uhh…hehUHH huhhSNGSHHH!

“Bless you,” John called from the kitchen.

Huhh…heh huhh The tickle was agonizing—a deep prickling in his sinuses that seemed to be getting worse not better. huhh HuhhNKTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” John repeated, sticking his head around the corner.

huhh Uhh HhhSNGSHHHoo!

“Gees, Sherlock. Bless you!” John said, coming out with two cups of tea. Unfortunately, Sherlock was already building up for another sneeze.

Uhh HUHH…HuhhEHHSGTSSHHOO! Dark curls flopped in his face as he rocked, sneezing into the tissues. Rather than feeling any sense of relief, it was as if each sneeze only caused the tickle to grow stronger. huhh hhhUHGKssschooo!

“Bless you again!” John said, a touch of worry in his voice. Sherlock groaned in frustration and grabbed more tissues because he clearly wasn’t done. His chest expanded with each breath, nostrils flaring until huhh Hehuhh HuhhTSSHHHoo!

“Can’t you huhihh…do somethihh something?” hhhNGTSCHHoo!

“Like what exactly?” John asked.

“Anythuhh Huhh anything,” Sherlock managed.

“I’m sure it’s the temperature change combined with your cold. Should stop as soon as you warm up.”

huhh Hehh huhhGSNSHHOOO! uhh huhh… He didn’t even waste the energy in lowering the tissues. Sherlock seemed stuck in a perpetual loop of agonizing buildup, sneeze, sniffle, repeat (repeat, repeat, repeat). HuhNTSHHH!

“Bless you Sherlock!” John felt absolutely useless. He wracked his brain for something that might ease Sherlock’s persistent fit of sneezes. He really did think it was likely a result of the extreme temperature fluctuations his burgeoning head cold.

“Huhh…nod agaid…hehuhh uhh huhhNGTSHHHoo!”

“Bless you,” John sighed. Sherlock looked absolutely wretched. Suddenly, a thought occurred to John. “Come on, I’ve got an idea,” he said, helping Sherlock to his feet.

huhh Huhh HUHHSGsschooo!

John lead him to the kitchen table and turned the kettle back on. As he waited for the water to come back to a boil, he went and got a towel from the hall closet—Sherlock still sneezing at regular intervals. John then put a large bowl down on the table in front of his friend and filled it with hot water.

“Lean forward and breathe in the steam,” John said.

huhh HUHH…huhSSTSCHHH!! Sherlock nodded and leaned forward, then John draped a towel over his head to trap the steam. At first Sherlock could only manage short, shallow pre-sneeze breaths, but gradually the steam worked its way through his nose and sinuses and he was able to take slightly deeper breaths. Each inhalation spread the warm, damp air through his nose and lungs, shaking off the bone-deep chill he’d acquired while he was out that night. As the congestion loosened his nose began to run and Sherlock began sniffling almost constantly. John slipped a handkerchief under the makeshift tent and Sherlock quickly pressed it to his nose, blowing gently. huhh…HUHH…hehuhh…

John winced. He really thought this would help, but Sherlock was clearly gearing up for yet another sneeze. It seemed to take ages to build, Sherlock almost-sneezing several times before finally releasing a monstrous, messy sneeze. hehh’AhhhhSNKssschooooo!!! He sat up straight and pulled the towel off his head and shoulders. His face was red, nose even redder.

“God bless you!” John said. Sherlock sighed and tilted his head back.

“Thank you, John. Ugh, that’s better.”

“Yeah?”

“Still sick, but finally done sneezing…for now. That was most unpleasant.”

“Sounded bloody awful,” John said.

“It was,” Sherlock sniffed. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course. You should get to bed. I’ll be up with some cold medicine in a minute.”

[ID2006]

Incoherent whimpers before melting into puddle of goo

[AngelEyes]

Poor Sherlock! Can't you make it stop? Awww.