Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

I love that Mycroft breaks into the clinic. Pretty sure he does that kind of thing just to show off style. LOL

“No need to apologize to John,” Mycroft said. “If he didn’t secretly enjoy this sort of thing he’d have killed my little brother ages ago.”

I love this!

[matilda3948]

Let's only hope that her employer will won't catch her cold...

Would I do such a thing after he was such a nice guy?

#49 Tease

When Mycroft got home that night he was exhausted—the day had certainly not been what he’d expected. He was pleased to find Gregory was already home from work and ready to start the weekend. He hung up his coat by the front door and went into the kitchen where Gregory was cooking.

“Thought I heard you,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You didn’t need to cook, Gregory. Though I admit, it does smell good.”

“You look tired. Long day?”

“Incredibly,” Mycroft sighed.

“Why don’t you go change and I’ll put the food on the table?”

The two men enjoyed a simple meal and a nice bottle of wine. Mycroft relayed the story of getting his sick PA patched up and Greg gave him a small smile.

“You said she seemed off yesterday.”

“I admit it was unsettling to see her so uncomfortable. I stopped at Liberty and bought a few things I thought might make her feel better,” Mycroft said. Greg smiled.

“Like what?”

“Handkerchiefs, some scented bath salt, and a cashmere throw I actually thought about getting for us as well.” Greg’s smile widened and he reached across the table and rested his hand on top of Mycroft’s.

“You went yourself?”

“I am capable, Gregory.”

“Of course you’re capable. That was incredibly kind of you.” Mycroft waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m serious, love. I’m sure Anthea was touched by such a thoughtful gesture.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I assure you it was strictly pragmatic. I need her back in the office as soon as possible. She’ll recover quicker if she’s comfortable and eats well.”

“You sent her food as well?” Greg asked. Mycroft scowled and Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, strictly serving your own self interests,” he teased.

“Gregory—”

“It’s okay to care about people, Mycroft.” But seeing his lover’s annoyance, he added, “I’ll keep it a secret though. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your image.” Mycroft was still frowning, but for an entirely different reason than Gregory’s gentle teasing. He picked up his napkin and turned from the table.

hhmptsshhoo! huhsschhooo!

“Bless you! Oh, hope you’re not catching it now.”

“Thank you. Coincidence, I’m sure,” Mycroft said with more conviction than he felt.

#67 Disproportionate

“Why don’t you go get a fire started in the study and I’ll bring in some tea?”

“Thank you, Gregory. Dinner was wonderful.” Mycroft failed to stifle a yawn as he got up from the table. Greg took both their plates back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. When he came into the study a few minutes later, he found Mycroft sitting on the sofa as the fire warmed the room nicely. Greg handed him a cup of tea and sat down next to him. They made small talk for a while, just unwinding at the end of the week. Mycroft yawned again.

“My apologies, Gregory. I assure you it’s not the company,” he said.

“You’re allowed to be tired, Mycroft,” Greg said, causing the younger man to sigh in annoyance. Greg frowned—Mycroft seemed disproportionately tired and irritable. He reached around and massaged the back of Mycroft’s neck and his concern deepened. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Gregory.”

“You feel a bit warm to me.” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and Greg thought it was because he had annoyed him again. A moment later though he saw the real cause as Mycroft’s breath grew unsteady.

hehntsschhoo! hhntssshhoo! hhntssshhoo!

“Bless you, Mycroft.”

“Apologies.” He sniffed and checked both his pockets for a handkerchief but didn’t find one. It was incredibly unlike him to forget to grab one when he changed clothes. In all their time together, Greg couldn’t think of a single time Mycroft was without a handkerchief…or two or three. He got up and grabbed a box of tissues off the desk, holding them out to Mycroft. Once he’d given his lover a chance to blow his nose Greg said,

“At the risk of irritating you further, can I suggest we turn in a bit early tonight? I know you’re fine, but on the off chance you’re fighting what Anthea has, wouldn’t it be better to get some sleep?”

Mycroft turned on the sofa so he could look Greg straight in the eye.

“You’ve done nothing to irritate me, love and I am sorry I’ve been short tempered tonight. I heh…excuse me hehh…” He turned his head and sneezed.

hhmptsshhoo! huhsschhooo!

“Bless you.” Greg frowned.

hehssschooo! hhntsschhhh!

“Bless you again.” He handed Mycroft a handful of fresh tissues.

hehtsschhoo! hhhntsschhhooo!

“And again!” Greg put a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Forgive me, Gregory.” He blew his nose and sighed. “You may be right. I do not feel completely like myself tonight.” Greg squeezed his shoulder. He knew how much that admission cost Mycroft.

“It’s okay. We’ve got nothing planned this weekend so you can rest up and nip in in the bud. Hopefully all you need is a good night’s sleep.”

[Spoo]

I'm literally drowning in domesticity feels (and I don't want to be saved!). Greg is so sweet! Looking after his baby like that. I love how huffy Mycroft is, too. He's such a cat. I swear. I do hope you'll continue with this; I'm dying to see how Mycroft's cold progresses (should it not improve overnight... ).

[AdrianMarx]

Aw these are just fantastic. And when Greg was offering to send over a swat team for sick Sherlock - I'm still giggling. All the characters are wonderful and sick/embarrassed Anthea with compassionate/doctor John is actually killing me.

[cally]

Awwwww the poor lamb

I hope Gregory takes good care of him.

[AngelEyes]

“You went yourself?”

“I am capable, Gregory.”

“Of course you’re capable. That was incredibly kind of you.” Mycroft waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m serious, love. I’m sure Anthea was touched by such a thoughtful gesture.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I assure you it was strictly pragmatic. I need her back in the office as soon as possible. She’ll recover quicker if she’s comfortable and eats well.”

“You sent her food as well?” Greg asked. Mycroft scowled and Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, strictly serving your own self interests,” he teased.

“Gregory—”

“It’s okay to care about people, Mycroft.” But seeing his lover’s annoyance, he added, “I’ll keep it a secret though. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your image.”

Awesome. Too cute!!! Greg teasing him. Mycroft huffy about it. LOL!

In all their time together, Greg couldn’t think of a single time Mycroft was without a handkerchief…or two or three.

The man with the magic handkerchiefs!

[matilda3948]

I'm literally drowning in domesticity feels (and I don't want to be saved!). Greg is so sweet! Looking after his baby like that. I love how huffy Mycroft is, too. He's such a cat. I swear. I do hope you'll continue with this; I'm dying to see how Mycroft's cold progresses (should it not improve overnight... ).

Awwwww the poor lamb

I hope Gregory takes good care of him.

Yeah...can't have him get well too quickly, can we?

On another note, I finished all 100 prompts!!! I think I'm just going to work through the list again. They're great prompts and I haven't gotten over my writing bug yet.

#83 Dream

Greg rolled over and resisted the urge to groan. Despite the fact that he’d not set an alarm he’d still woken up ludicrously early. So much for sleeping in, he thought. Maybe he could just roll back over and go back to sleep. A sudden twitch from the other side of the bed put a quick end to that idea though. He looked over to see Mycroft in a restless sleep, his limbs twitching occasionally, brow furrowed. Greg leaned over and brushed the hair off his face.

“Shh…it’s okay, love,” he whispered. Greg placed his hand in the center of Mycroft’s chest and rubbed slow circles, murmuring quiet reassurances. Mycroft slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion when he found Greg leaning over him. “You were having a bad dream,” Greg explained.

“Yes I was.” Both men made a face at how bad Mycroft sounded. Greg’s sympathetic, Mycroft’s disgusted. Greg recognized the look that came next and reached over and grabbed several tissues, knowing that the sneezes were just on the horizon. Nodding his thanks, Mycroft held them a couple inches from his face, his breath hitching wildly.

hehh hihh ehhh…heh hehtsschhoo! hhhntsschhhooo! HehhNTSSCHH! hhSNSSCHHooo!

“God bless you.”

hehIHHsngzsshh! hhgnzssshooo! HehhGNzssshooo!

“God bless you again!” Greg got out of bed and went to get a couple handkerchiefs from Mycroft’s bureau, before coming back to the bed. “Sounds like tissues aren’t going to cut it,” he said as the thick, congested sneezes continued to tumble out.

huhhsngzsshh! hhgnzssshooo! HehhGNzssshooo!

“Oh, God bless you dear!” Greg said.

Mycroft couldn’t even answer before blowing his nose.

“Apologies,” he finally managed.

#46 Terrible

“It’s fine love,” Greg said. “So exactly how bad are you feeling?” Mycroft considered lying, but one look at Greg’s worried face and he opted for the truth.

“Terrible,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I believe this is the definition of no good deed goes unpunished.” Greg laughed and rolled his eyes.

“You probably caught it from her before yesterday. People are most contagious before they start showing symptoms.”

“You sound like Sherlock.”

“Where did you think I learned it?” He leaned over and kissed Mycroft’s forehead. “No fever. That’s good. How’s your throat?”

“So far I think I’ve managed to only contract Anthea’s cold, not the strep throat. This seems to be entirely contained in hehh…huhh id by ehh head…” He tried to grab the handkerchief from earlier but dropped it on the floor, forcing him to sneeze into his hands.

HehhGNzssshooo! hhsszncchhh! hhuhnSTSSCHHooo!

“God bless you,”Greg sighed and unfolded a different one, pressing the cloth to his hands.

“Thag you Grehh hehh Gregory.” Mycroft’s nose twitched wildly and he managed to sniff twice before being overwhelmed with another fit of messy, wet sneezes.

huhzssnchhh! GSNSSCHHHoo! NTGzsschhooo! SNTSCHHoo! SNTSCHHooo!

“My goodness. Bless you again!” Greg said, frowning at just how awful Mycroft sounded. He blew his nose several times before finally being able to speak.

“Thag you, dear. I’b sorry. That was…bost distasteful.” Greg leaned over and kissed Mycroft’s temple three times in a row.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I’m going to make us some tea and get you some cold medicine. Then you need to get some more rest. Do you want to stay here in bed or come downstairs?” Mycroft sighed and rested his head on Gregory’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re there.”

[cally]

“It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re there.”

Melting. Into. A. Puddle.

[AngelEyes]

Awww. Congrats on 100! And yay to another round!

[matilda3948]

#8 Fever

Greg weighed his options—not an easy task with the massive headache he’d been fighting all night. On the one hand, he was facing ridicule, derision, and a likely worsening of his headache. On the other hand, he’d probably get to go home much quicker.

HuhhRAHHHssschh! hhRUHHHssschhoo!

Ridicule and derision it was then. He pulled out his mobile and waited for Sherlock to arrive at the crime scene.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock had arrived, surveyed the body, and had given Lestrade a likely suspect and motive.

“I can’t believe you’re wasting my time with something so utterly pedestrian,” Sherlock said, turning up his coat collar against the icy wind.

“Bit pressed for time,” Lestrade said with a sniffle. Sherlock doubled back and surveyed the detective inspector.

“Take something for your fever when you get home,” Sherlock said. Greg nodded and tried to muffle a few sneezes into the bend of his arm.

huhRAHMFSHHH! HuhhRAHHMFSHHH! RuhhFMSSCHHHoo!

“Sorry,” he rasped before coughing harshly. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably watching the older man struggle to get himself under control. He fished a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and held it out to Lestrade. He took it gratefully and coughed into the soft cloth, before ending the outburst with a final violent sneeze. HuhhRAHHHSSSHHOOOO!

“Bless you,” Sherlock mumbled. “Go home, Greg.”

#21 Bed

“Where’s John?” Lestrade asked as Sherlock strolled onto the scene.

“Baker Street, taking a stand.”

“A stand against what?” Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh something about bad decision making, not enabling, etcetera,” he said, his voice faltering on the last word. He spun away and raised his left arm, burying his nose in the sleeve of his coat.

hhNTGsshh! huhNTSSCHH! GNT’sshh!

“Bless you, Sherlock!”

The younger man sniffed thickly and pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, dabbing his nose.

“I don’t suppose you and John were arguing about you being too sick to come out and work a case were you?”

“It’s possible.”

“You could have just said you were sick when I texted,” Greg said. Sherlock bristled and leveled the detective inspector with a glare.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told John when he was being an insufferable mother hen. I am fine. A very minor respiratory infection is no reason to stay confined to one’s bed. Now point me towards the—” he stopped suddenly, nostrils flaring slightly. He pressed his index finger to his nose and seemed to will the sneeze back into submission. Greg was watching with an amused smirk. A single deep sniffle and Sherlock lowered his hand. “Point me towards the corpse,” he managed before bringing the handkerchief back up to his nose.

Ngtschh! hhNTXS! huhSNTCHH!

Greg couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bless you. You need to be in bed.”

“I’b perfectly capable of—”

“Go home before I have you arrested.”

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

EEEEEE! Sick Sherlock! And SO CUTE! Really, Sherlock, John may be a mother hen, but he also knows how insufferable you get when you have no case to occupy you. If he thinks you shouldn't be out...yeah, he's probably right. Now go home to bed before Lestrade goes through with his threat! *ducks away from Sherlock's inevitable glare*

[cally]

Oh Gregory, poor thing. Sherlock even got your name right despite the fact that he knows where you got such a horrible cold from.

[AngelEyes]

I love Lestrade's threats to Sherlock. And John, taking a stand. LOL! I can just picture it. "Don't you go out there. Well fine, if you're going, I refuse to come with you. So there!"

[matilda3948]

I was in the mood for a very sick Sherlock. Poor Sherlock

#82 Tears

Something startled John out of a sound sleep. He looked to his left and saw Sherlock tossing his head from side to side. He’d been sick, as sick as John could ever remember seeing him, and had a tendency to have nightmares when his fever spiked. Sometime during the night John had come into Sherlock’s room and found him burning up, thrashing around in the bed. By the time he got Sherlock calm and brought his fever down, John just laid down on the bed next to him.

“Shh…Sherlock it’s okay,” he said, leaning over and pressing his hand to his forehead. John frowned—his friend’s skin was hot to the touch. “Sherlock, come on and wake up. You’re okay.” John shook his shoulder until finally Sherlock woke with a hoarse yell, tears springing to his eyes. “Hey, it’s alright,” John said. “Just take a deep breath.”

That proved to be easier said than done as Sherlock began to cough violently into his hands. John looked concerned—he didn’t like the sound of that cough. He grabbed the glass of water off the bedside table and held it out to Sherlock.

“Small sips,” he reminded. The dark haired man nodded and slowly got his coughing under control, emptying the glass. Sherlock sat on the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands.

hehngtsschh! Sngssschh! SNSgssschh!

He sniffled miserably and reached for the tissues.

“Bless you,” John said. “I’m going to go get you more to drink and some medicine.” Sherlock nodded and blew his nose, the thick congestion shifting and causing him to sneeze again.

hhGNTssh! Snzsschhooo! Ntsschh! Ntsschhoo!

“Bless you, Sherlock.” He pushed the tousled dark curls out of his face and shivered. “You going to be okay for a minute?” John asked, seriously wondering if he should leave his friend alone even for a few minutes.

“M’okay,” he rasped.

John went to the kitchen and was about to start making tea when the front door opened.

“Morning,” Mrs. Hudson called.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hudson,” John said, coming back into the living room.

“I heard noise and figured you boys were up. Been awake for hours, you know how the cold bothers my hip and I thought I might as well bring up a tray. How’d you boys manage last night?”

“He’s pretty unwell,” John said. “Can’t keep his fever down for more than a couple hours at a time.”

“Poor dear. Always prone to fevers. Doesn’t eat enough I say—all arms and legs that one.”

The man in question could be heard sneezing violently from his room. Mrs. Hudson made a sympathetic noise and shook her head.

“Think you could sit with him for a few minutes?” John asked. “I could use a shower and don’t want to leave him alone for too long. He had nightmare that shook him up pretty badly.” Mrs. Hudson patted his arm.

“Of course. Take your time—you need to take care of yourself too. I’ll leave your breakfast in the kitchen and see if I can coax some food into him…a bit of tea at least.” She picked up the tray and made her way down to Sherlock’s room. She nudged the door open. “Oh Sherlock,” she sighed as she caught sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed, white as a sheet except for the fevered flush high on his cheekbones, deep, dark circles under his eyes, still shaking from both the nightmare and the chills.

#48 Tissues

John felt like a new man after a shower, a shave, and a change of clothes. He went back to Sherlock’s room and smiled. Sherlock had scooted down so that his head was resting on Mrs. Hudson’s shoulder. She was keeping up a steady, but quiet litany of chatter while running her fingers through Sherlock’s hair with one hand, occasionally patting his leg with the other. He looked small, young, but more peaceful than John had seen him since he woke in a panic that morning.

“And then I was watching this program where they—oh, John. Hello, dear,” she said, noticing him standing in the doorway. He was surprised that Sherlock didn’t move.

“How’s our patient?” John asked. Mrs. Hudson cast a sideways glance at the head resting on her shoulder.

“I think he’ll pull through. Got some tea and two whole bites of toast into him.” The man in question brought a fistful of tissues up to his nose and stifled a couple sneezes.

hhNGTss! huhGNKT!

“Aww, God bless you dear,” she said. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and huddled closer to her. “I know,” she sighed. “You should let John have a look at you though. You’re fever’s up and you really don’t sound well.” Sherlock mumbled something and Mrs. Hudson smiled. “If you agree to another cup of tea and don’t hassle John.” He finally unfolded himself and lifted his glassy eyes to John. Mrs. Hudson stood and went to go make fresh tea. John got a thermometer and Sherlock slipped it in mouth. A few seconds later John saw him crinkle the bridge of his nose and give a liquid sniffle, then another. He handed his sick friend a couple tissues and the moment the thermometer beeped, Sherlock turned his head and sneezed.

HuhNtsschh! Ntsschhoo! huhSNTSSHH! SNTSCHHoo!

“Bless you,” John said, grabbing the thermometer. He frowned—still too high for his liking. “I need to listen to your breathing,” John said. Sherlock nodded. His lack of resistance was really starting to worry John. Normally he had to bribe, trick, and cajole Sherlock into even answering questions pertaining to his health, much less submitting to an actual exam. Thankfully, a thorough check revealed that his lungs were clear, but the fever definitely signaled some kind of infection. That, combined with the extreme fatigue, congestion, and sneezing made John suspect he had a sinus infection. He needed to call in some antibiotics.

#28 Hoarse

“Are you okay?” Sherlock asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

“Me? I’m fine. Why?” John asked. Sherlock shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Dreamt that…doesn’t matter. Just a dream.” John squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Everybody’s okay. Come on, take these pills and then lie back down.” John handed him some cold pills and Sherlock downed them with a gulp of cold tea. He slid back into bed and let John prop a couple pillows behind his head.

“Heh ehh…John?” He managed to get his friend a couple tissues before the sneezing overtook him. huhNtsschh! huhKtsschhoo! SNGtsshhh! SNTCHHoo! huhSNTSCHHOOO!

“My goodness, God bless you Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson said, coming back into the room. She handed John a cup of tea and waited until Sherlock finished blowing his nose before handing him one as well. She went into the bathroom and came back with a wet towel before promptly shooing John out of the room. “I reheated your breakfast and I want you to go eat it before it gets cold again. I’ll look after him.” John smiled and shook his head.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” He paused at the door and watched her perch on the side of the bed, pressing the cool towel against Sherlock’s forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes as she resumed her monologue from earlier as though she’d never been interrupted.

[cally]

Ohhhhh poor Sherlock. *snuggles him*

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

What cally said.

[AngelEyes]

Awww! motherly!Mrs.Hudson I love it. You have her perfect! I could just hear her! So sweet!

[VoOs]

*awwwww's forever*

Motherly Mrs H. Now I've got a serious case of the warm fuzzies.

[matilda3948]

Thanks for the sweet comments. Please forgive the way over the top Mystrade hurt comfort in this set. Been a rough couple days and apparently I'm channeling my angst through fictional characters

Also, too tired to proofread. Please forgive the inevitable errors.

#91 Chill

Stakeouts had never been John’s favorite thing, but a stakeout in the rain and the cold in a dark alley was really, really grating on his nerves. Sherlock might as well have been standing in the middle of their flat for all it seemed to bother him—perfectly at ease, coat collar flipped up against the rain, arms crossed, brain going a hundred miles an hour.

“Sherlock, it’s freezing and we’ve been here for over four hours. Can you please just admit you were wrong about the date and we’ll try again?” John asked.

“I’m not wrong. The exchange is supposed to happen at this corner any moment now.”

“You said that two hours ago.”

“You’re welcome to leave,” Sherlock said. John sighed and drew his jacket tighter around himself. The consulting detective smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh shut up,” John said. A few minutes later John shivered and sniffled. He didn’t think there was a dry spot left anywhere on his body; his breath was making little white puffs in the frigid air. He sniffled again and felt a tickle quickly spread through his nose. He quickly turned his head to the side and sneezed into his fist. huhhntsschoo! Sherlock didn’t flinch, his eyes fixed on the street corner across from them. John tried to focus on anything except how completely chilled he was. Five minutes later he sneezed again. huhhNTSHH! Three minutes after that another. huhhKTSSHH! He sniffled wetly and tried, once again, to refocus. huhPTSHHHoo!

“He’s not coming,” Sherlock said. “Come on.”

“Wait? What?”

“He’s not coming.”

“What did I miss?” John asked.

“It’s a long list. Now come on. I thought you wanted to go home.” John watched in utter confusion as his friend walked out of the alleyway and hailed a cab. He’d missed something but had no idea what and was too tired to care.

#86 Shower

He slid into the warm cab and his nose instantly began to run. Sherlock gave their address to the driver and then dug a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, holding it out to his friend.

“Thags,” John said, giving his nose a blow. “Why do you think he didn’t show up tonight?”

“He’s a drug dealer,” Sherlock said. “Punctuality is rarely a priority. I’ll ask around again tomorrow.”

huhhNTSSHH! John barely managed to stifle a sneeze.

“Bless you,” Sherlock said quietly, turning in his seat. “Did standing outside tonight make you ill?”

“Just a bit chilled,” John said, wiping his nose.

“Hmm.”

huhhntsschh! Ntsschhooo! John shook his head a bit. He really did have a terrible tickle in his nose.

“Take a shower as soon as we get back,” Sherlock said. “I’m told I have a tendency to use all the hot water.”

#83 Dream

Mycroft stirred when something jolted against his leg. He looked to his right and could just make out Greg twitching in his sleep. After switching on the bedside lamp, Mycroft sat up and stroked the man’s face.

“Gregory, it’s alright. Just a bad dream,” he murmured. His lover had a horrendous cold and Mycroft really didn’t want to wake him up—it had taken him ages to get comfortable enough to fall asleep in the first place. However, Gregory’s distress seemed to be getting worse, not better, so Mycroft gently shook the older man’s shoulder. “Wake up, Gregory. Come on. Wake up.”

Greg awoke with a hoarse shout, shooting upright in the bed. Mycroft reached out to him and frowned when Greg smacked away his hand.

“No!” He immediately dissolved into a gravelly cough. Mycroft got up and quickly came back with a glass of water. He noticed the way Greg’s hands shook as he tried to raise the glass to his lips. Beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead and his pupils were dilated and darting around the room. Mycroft moved slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out for Greg’s hand but the older man flinched and pulled away.

“Gregory, dear, can I please have your hand? You’re safe—it’s just me.” Mycroft was a bit worried as he slowly took Gregory’s left hand into his lap. He checked his pulse and, as he expected, it was racing. “Gregory, I want to listen to me,” he said in a low, quiet voice. “You’re having a panic attack, love. It’s going to be okay.” Greg clenched his eyes shut and made a tight, whimpering noise. “I know,” Mycroft said. “It won’t last. I’m going to just rub your back a little,” he added so Gregory wouldn’t be started when he touched him. “Here, take these tissues,” he said, reaching over and grabbing a few from the box on the nightstand.

heh huh…HuhhRAHHsschhooo! huhhRAAHHTSSCHHOOO!

“Bless you! Try and breathe, Gregory. I’ve got you.” Finally, the silver haired man leaned forward and rested his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. He was still shaking and his breathing was shallow, but he was gradually calming down. Mycroft kept his fingers pressed to Greg’s wrist and slowly felt his heart rate come back down. With his other hand he continued to gently rub his lover’s back, neck, and finally the side of his face. Once he felt Greg take a couple deep breaths, he tilted his head up so he could look him in the eye.

#90 Interrupt

“I’m sorr—”

“Shh. Don’t,” Mycroft said, kissing him on the forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He wiped away a couple tears that Gregory hadn’t even realized had spilled down his face. “I need to take your temperature. You’re warm, but I can’t tell if you’re still flushed from the panic attack or if your fever’s back.” Greg nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted, ill, and more than a little embarrassed. “Hold still,” Mycroft said, slipping the tympanic thermometer into Greg’s ear. “Not much of a fever. You should cool off once the adrenalin works its way out of your system.”

Heh HuhhNGTSSCHH! RuhhAHHNTSCHHOOO!

“Scuse be.”

“Bless you, Gregory. Lay back down. You need to rest.” Mycroft straightened the bedding and then came back to his side of the bed. His partner still looked restless. “Please try, Gregory. You’re unwell and need to sleep.” He slid an arm underneath Greg’s shoulders and pulled him towards him. He felt Gregory place his head directly over his heart and drape his arm over his torso. “Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?” Mycroft asked quietly.

“No.”

“Okay.” He ran his fingers through Greg’s short silver hair. “Do you have panic attacks often?”

“No.”

“Because if you do I’m sure John could write you a prescription for—”

“I dreamt I lost you,” Greg interrupted. “I dreamt that you died.” Mycroft felt another tremor run through his body.

“Oh, Gregory,” he sighed, squeezing him a little tighter. “I’m right here and I’m fine.” Mycroft grabbed one of the handkerchiefs from the stack he kept next to his side of the bed. “Take this, love. You’re going to sneeze.” He kept Greg close to him as he felt his lover’s shoulders rise and fall in a series of pre-sneeze breaths.

Heh huhh huhRaahhTSSCHHOO! hhRAHHHSSCHHooo!

“God bless you, Gregory.”

heh huhRAHHsstsschhoo! huhhAHHHRSSSCHHooo!

“God bless you!”

He felt Greg’s body shudder against his with another set of huge sneezes.

ruhhAHHSNSSCHOOO! huhRAHHHsssshhhooo! hhRAHHHTSSHHHOOO!!

“My goodness, Gregory. God bless you!”

“Thag you,” he rasped before blowing his nose and yawning. Mycroft kissed the top of his head.

“Sleep, Gregory.”

[AngelEyes]

“He’s not coming.”

“What did I miss?” John asked.

“It’s a long list.

Snarky Sherlock. I love him so much.

“Take a shower as soon as we get back,” Sherlock said. “I’m told I have a tendency to use all the hot water.”

Wait...Is that Sherlock being thoughtful? Oh my. Yet still snarky. Awesomeness. You rock!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aww! Oops-I-accidentally-almost-broke-my-John!Sherlock is one of my favorites!

[cally]

Love the Mystrade hurt/comfort (of course).

[matilda3948]

Aww! Oops-I-accidentally-almost-broke-my-John!Sherlock is one of my favorites!

Thanks! Me too. I'm going to come back to this thread shortly.

Love the Mystrade hurt/comfort (of course).

Thanks, sugar Here's a continuation:

#17 Doctor

The next morning, at Mycroft’s insistence, Greg sent John a text and asked if he could stop by the clinic. An hour later and he was sitting on an exam table waiting for John to come in. Greg sighed and dug a handkerchief out of his pocket as his nose began to itch. He held the cloth at the ready as his nostrils widened slightly with each breath. Huhh huhahh… Finally he lurched forward with a pair of heavy, congested sneezes. huhhrahhhGNTSCHHoo! HuhhRahhSGNsschhooo!

“Bless you!” John said, opening the door and coming into the exam room. Greg nodded and blew his nose. John gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m still obliged to ask, how are you feeling?”

“Bloody awful to be honest,” Greg said, rubbing his nose. “I’b sure it’s just a cold, but Mycroft insisted I see a doctor and I didn’t have the energy to argue.”

“He is rather protective in his own, strange way,” John said.

“Stubborn like a Holmes too. Figured it was best to come to you during normal work hours or he’d just drag me to your flat when he got home from work.”

“I’m a bit surprised he didn’t come with you,” John said.

“Wanted to, but there’s some sort of incident that requires his hehh huh attention. ‘Scuse be” Greg managed as his beleaguered nose twitched with irritation again. huh Huh HuhhrahhGNTSCHHooo! hhRAHHSNTssshhoooo! huhRUHHSTSSHHHHHoooo!

“Bless you!” John said, grabbing a box of tissues off the counter. “Here. That thing has to be almost useless,” he said, nodding towards the handkerchief. Greg looked slightly dazed from the violent sneezes and slowly grabbed a couple tissues and blew his nose before coughing lightly into his fist. “Hmm. I’m rather glad Mycroft sent you over. You don’t sound well, Greg.”

#56 Rest

John asked a standard series of questions and performed a thorough examination. He noticed that the glands on the left side of Greg’s neck were slightly swollen.

“That explains the low-grade fever,” John said. “Infection can pool in the lymph nodes and cause a mild, but persistent fever until the body can get ahead of it. Should clear up on its own, but if your fever spikes, you have severe sinus pain, or it gets painful to swallow let me know. Unfortunately the best thing I can prescribe right now is rest, lots of fluids, and more rest.” At that moment, John’s mobile beeped and Greg rolled his eyes.

“It’s hib. Would you please tell him that I’b fide?”

“You’re not exactly fine but yes, I’ll tell him it’s just a bad cold,” John said.

huhhRahhsntsschhoooo! RahhGSNNsschhooo! hhRuhhhSNTSSCHHHoo!

“Bless you, Greg!”

“Thags.” He wiped his nose in a handful of tissues and stood up.

“Take the box,” John said nodding towards the tissues. “Sounds like you’ll need them.” He clapped the silver haired man on the back and walked him to the door. A black sedan was parked directly outside and the door immediately opened as Greg stepped out into the chilly morning air. “Feel better,” John said.

#97 Honey

Greg sunk into the warm car, tissue box in hand, and closed the door. To his surprise it was Anthea who greeted him, not Mycroft.

“Hello Detective Inspector,” she said, holding out a paper cup.

“Hi, Anthea. Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

“Tea. Mr. Holmes regrets that he couldn’t meet you but asked me to express, in the strongest possible terms, to please go home and rest. He will join you as soon as he is able.” He took a sip of tea and could tell it was laced with honey and something else.

“You drugged this, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Just following orders,” Anthea said, typing something on her mobile. After sending her text message she glanced over at him. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A bit unwell actually. John says it’s just a cold.”

“He worries you know,” she said, not needing to clarify who “he” was.

“I know he does.” Greg sniffled and rubbed his nose roughly. Anthea wordlessly took the cup from him freeing up both hands to grab a few tissues just in time.

huhhRahhhgtsschhhooo! HuhRahhSNTSCHHoo! huhhRahhsntsschhoooo! RahhGSNNsschhooo!

“God bless you, Detective Inspector,” she said, frowning.

“Thag you. Excuse be.” He turned his head towards the window and blew his nose as quietly as possible. “Sorry Anthea.” She waved off his apology and handed him his tea again. “How is he today?” Greg asked.

“In his element.”

“So back channel diplomacy, secret negotiations, and top secret exchanges then?” he asked. The corners of her mouth curved upwards as she typed on her Blackberry.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. Greg smiled and shook his head.

“Well, I have been feverish.” He gave a frustrated sigh as his nose began to tickle for the hundredth time that morning. “Anthea, would you mind hehh huh…” He held the cup out to her again and drew several tissues from the box on his lap—thank goodness John had let him take the whole box. His whole body seemed to shudder with a series of violent, messy sneezes:

Huh HuhhrahhGNTSCHHooo! huhRUHHSTSSHHHHHoooo! hhRAHHSNTssshhoooo! HuhhSNTSCHHooo! uhhRAHHHTSSCHHHOOOO!!

“God bless you!” Anthea said. Greg couldn’t help but groan. His head was spinning and all he wanted was to crawl into bed. He blew his nose several times, all pretense of being polite long gone at this point. When he finally straightened up and opened his eyes, he found himself being assessed by a pair of worried eyes.

“Sorry,” he said in a husky voice.

“Dr. Watson did examine you and conclude this was nothing more than a severe cold, correct?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Because you know he’ll check with John if he hasn’t already.”

“I know.”

“And he will not react well if he’s being lied to.”

“Just a cold, I promise,” he said. Her mobile beeped and she looked down at the screen.

Do stop harassing my Detective Inspector. I’ve already spoken with John. –MH

[24Me]

Yay! These are so good! I don't know the fandom, but these are still so incredible!!!!! I loved the ending of Honey-it made me smile!

[cally]

Do stop harassing my Detective Inspector. I’ve already spoken with John. –MH

Oh poor dear Gregory. He sounds absolutely miserable.