Matilda's Drabble Thread II (Sherlock)

[AngelEyes]

I love Anthea's care of Greg on Mycroft's orders. Drugging the tea. LOL

[matilda3948]

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

Okay, I had to come back to this story line because ^^^ is one of my favorite things. So these pick up right after "Shower"

#98 Defeat

Despite taking a hot shower, John still felt a little chilled. He came downstairs and did a double take; Sherlock was making tea. He’d changed out of his wet clothes and towel dried his hair and was now standing in their kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.

“You can stop staring, John. I’m boiling water not walking on it.” Sherlock turned around when John’s laugh turned into a cough. “Go sit down, John.” As the coughing died down John thought sitting down seemed like an excellent idea. He sunk into his chair with a heavy sigh. As his nose began to tickle he realized it wouldn’t be long before he had to admit defeat: he was sick. He gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose and sniffed. He tilted his head back and let the sensation build. hehh Heh Ehh… Another sniffle, another deep swell in the tingling sensation deep within his nose, but not quite enough to sneeze yet. Ehh Hehh… Finally after what seemed like an eternity of teasing the irritation in his nose reached critical mass and he snapped forward with a messy sneeze.

hehhntsschhhooo!

The relief was short lived and John was immediately struck by a sneezing attack that gave him almost no time in between each outburst.

Hehhtsssschhh! Tsschhheeew! EhhhTSSCHHeeew! hhEhhhTSSHHHHHeew! Hehhtsssschhh! Tsschhheeew! EhhhTSSCHHeeew!

His head was spinning and his throat stung. John felt a tap on his knee and opened his eyes to see Sherlock sitting in the chair across from him, holding out a handkerchief.

“Bless you, John,” he said quietly.

“Thags.” John unfolded the cloth and blew his nose before glancing to his right and picking up the cup of tea Sherlock must have placed there a moment ago.

#45 Temperature

The warm tea felt wonderful against his throat. Sherlock was leaned back in his chair, hands pressed together, fingertips resting at his lips.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” John asked.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a case waiting to be solved.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sherlock said.

“Alright,” John said, his voice catching as he grabbed the handkerchief off his lap.

Hehntsschhheew! Ntsschhheew! hhSTSSHHH! hehntsschhhheew!

“Bless you.” The crease between Sherlock’s eyebrows deepened.

“Thanks. Ugh, I hate when I bring my work home with me,” John said.

“You think you picked this up at the clinic?”

“Occupational hazard. Why? What did you think I meant?” John asked. Sherlock shook his head.

“Nothing.” This time it was John’s turn to observe. He tilted his head and tried to figure out what he was missing. Suddenly it clicked.

“Oh Sherlock, you’re not still thinking about me being outside with you all night?” When Sherlock didn’t answer John rolled his eyes. “People don’t get sick from being out in the cold. You know that.”

“Not strictly speaking, but a person’s immune system can be weakened when the body is overexerting itself to maintain its internal temperature.”

HehhNTsschheew! Hehtsssshhheew! Hehhntssschhheeew!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said. John nodded and blew his nose before clearing his throat and continuing.

“Sherlock, I have a cold. I probably got it at work and I certainly contracted it a few days ago; I just started showing symptoms tonight. It’s just bad timing.”

“I didn’t do you any favors by forcing you to stay out in this weather.”

“Oh don’t give yourself so much credit. If I’d really wanted to leave I would have,” John said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “It is possible to say no to you,” John added with a smile.

“Is not.”

#25 Handkerchief

Both men laughed but, once again, John’s quickly morphed into a cough.

“Sorry,” he said when he’d stopped.

“I’ll get you some cold medicine. You’ve got a fever,” Sherlock said, standing up

“No I don’t,” John said. Sherlock crossed his arms and stared at John for a few seconds.

“38.2, plus or minus one tenth in either direction.”

“There is no way you can guess a person’s temperature just by looking at them,” John said.

“We’ll see.” Sherlock promptly left the room. John just shook his head. He didn’t feel feverish…at least not much. He was still a bit cold, so maybe just a slight fever. Still, he was a doctor—he knew there was no way to gauge a fever by sight alone. He sighed in frustration as his nose began to tickle again. If tonight was any indication this was going to be a very sneezy cold.

heh ehh… Ntsschhheew! hhSTSSHHH! hehntsschhhheew! EhhSTSSHHHeew!

“Bless you. Here’s a fresh one,” Sherlock said, tossing a clean handkerchief in John’s direction. After giving his friend a moment to clear his nose, Sherlock held up the thermometer. “Are we placing a wager on this or do you just want to admit that I’m right?”

“It’s impossible and you know it,” John said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Fine,” John said. “If I win, no body parts in the refrigerator for three weeks.”

“Deal. And when I win we lift the midnight to 5am ban on violin music for a two weeks.”

“Deal,” John said, snatching the thermometer from his friend and placing it in his ear to get a reading. A few seconds later it beeped and John glanced down. “Oh, come on!” he cried. “You did something to it—you must have!” He took his temperature again, this time in the other ear. Same reading: 38.2.

“You can test it as many times as you want. I’m still going to be right and you’ll just be embarrassing yourself.” He handed John a couple cold pills and said, “Now, how do you feel about Bach’s Concerto in D Minor?”

Hehhntsschhheew! Tsschhheew! Hehhtsssschhh! Tsschhheeew! EhhhTSSCHHeeew!

“Bless you, John,” he said with a touch of concern. “You know, we could start my two week prize in a few days. It would allow me to savor my victory a little longer.” John yawned and nodded his agreement. “And it will give me ample time to decide on the perfect music for 3am.” John tried not to smile as he stood up from his chair.

“I’m sure you’ll find something suitably loud and obnoxious,” he said. “Alright, I’m turning in.”

“Do you need anything?” Sherlock asked.

“I’m alright.” John paused in the doorway. “38.2 was a lucky guess, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t guess, John. I observe.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

[cally]

Awww poor John. What a terrible sneezy cold. I hope someone follows you upstairs with more handkerchiefs and tissues and maybe a nice glass of water.

“You can stop staring, John. I’m boiling water not walking on it.”

A++++++++

[AngelEyes]

“Oh don’t give yourself so much credit. If I’d really wanted to leave I would have,” John said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “It is possible to say no to you,” John added with a smile.

“Is not.”

No John. It's not and you know it. LOL

All of these were awesome!

[matilda3948]

Poor allergic Sherlock

#5 Itch

Sherlock didn’t even have to open his eyes to know the pollen count was high that morning—very, very high if the itching sensation in his nose and eyes was any indication. His ears itched, the roof of his mouth itched, he was pretty sure if his eyelids could itch they would. He blinked a few times and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his index finger roughly against the underside of his nose. He wasn’t even going to fight John about taking an antihistime today. Well, of course he would fight him but that would just be for sport. He sniffed and felt the sneezes starting the build. There was that telltale prickling right at the bridge of his nose that he only got when his hay fever was acting up. He tilted his head back as his breath began to hitch. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose with each inhalation and he slowly brought his hands up within a few inches of his face. hehh ehhihh…His nostrils quivered slightly, eyes clenched shut. He froze for a second before finally pitching forward with a rapid fit of ticklish sneezes.

Hehhtsschh! Nxtsschh! Nxtsschh! NgtSHHH! NTSSHHHoo!

He sniffled wetly and ran a finger under each one of his red, irritated eyes, wiping away the dampness. Sherlock groped around for something to wipe his nose on—he really should steal more of John’s handkerchiefs. Not finding anything (and not quite desperate enough to use his pillowcase) he got out of bed and grabbed a handkerchief from his top dresser drawer.

#50 Quarrel

John was in the kitchen making breakfast when he heard Sherlock sneezing in his room. He’d already put two antihistamines next to his favorite coffee mug. John was hoping they could keep the allergy medication argument to a heated debate, at worst a civilized quarrel. He really did hate having the same fight with Sherlock every time the pollen count spiked. With a flourish of dressing gown and a liquid sniffle, the man in question made his entrance.

“Morning, Sherlock,” John said.

“John. Coffee?” John nodded towards the cup on the counter. Sherlock picked it up and left the small pink pills exactly where John left them.

“Take the pills, Sherlock.”

“No.”

“You’re a wreck. Your eyes actually look painful and you’re sniffling every five seconds. You’ve been up less than twenty minutes and you’ve already sneezed about a half dozen times.”

“I have not,” Sherlock said.

“Yes you have!”

hehIHHtsschh!

“Heh Ehh now I’ve sdeezed a half huhh dozen tibes…” NKTsschh! NKTsschhoo! NKTSHHHoo!

“Bless you,” John said, clearly both annoyed and concerned. Sherlock pulled the handkerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown and blew his nose, before folding it over and wiping his watery eyes. As much as he enjoyed toying with John, he wasn’t keen on continuing to feel like he had tiny ants crawling around inside his nose. He downed the pills with a swallow of coffee and wordlessly went into the living room.

#77 Spring

“So what are you up to today?” John asked, following his friend into the living room. Sherlock shrugged and drug his wrist under his nose. “Well, try and stay inside if you can. The British Spring really doesn’t agree with you.”

“Mycroft must be utterly miserable,” Sherlock said with a slight smile. “Almost makes it worth it.”

“Your brotherly compassion knows no bounds,” John said.

hhntsschh! Ngtshhoo! Ntsschhooo! KTsschh! KTsschh! NTsschhoo!

“Bless you, Sherlock! Think that’s karma for taking pleasure in Mycroft’s suffering?”

“Please, if there was karmic consequences for enjoying Mycroft’s misfortunes I’d have been hit by a bus years ago.” John laughed and Sherlock smirked, never lifting his eyes from his laptop. John stood.

“Alright I’m going to get ready for work. Try and stay indoors and out of trouble.”

“And if those are mutually exclusive?”

“I suppose hay fever is preferable to being stabbed or kidnapped,” John said.

HehhTSHHH! Ktsschhh! HehNTSSHHoo! Ngtshhoo! Ntsschhooo!

“I’m not so sure,” Sherlock mumbled.

[Seniorstatus14]

AHH!! I am in love with these!! I love Mary caring for John/ John caring for Mary. In fact I feel like I saw a fic on here somewhere where Sherlock was sick and John and Mary were taking care of him. I don't remember where it was but I loved the whole Sherlock being cared for by John & Mary like a child thing. You make them sound like the happy family I imagine them to be and I guess that's why I'm so in love with these drabbles!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Unf! I've probably mentioned at some point that allergies aren't usually my thing, but GOD, you write allergic!Sherlock appealingly!

[cally]

Sherlock didn’t even have to open his eyes to know the pollen count was high that morning—very, very high if the itching sensation in his nose and eyes was any indication. His ears itched, the roof of his mouth itched, he was pretty sure if his eyelids could itch they would

This right here is perfect. Absolutely spot on. Poor dear Sherlock, I can totally relate.

[AngelEyes]

He wasn’t even going to fight John about taking an antihistime today. Well, of course he would fight him but that would just be for sport.

LOL. Of course!

“Mycroft must be utterly miserable,” Sherlock said with a slight smile. “Almost makes it worth it.”

“Your brotherly compassion knows no bounds,” John said.

hhntsschh! Ngtshhoo! Ntsschhooo! KTsschh! KTsschh! NTsschhoo!

“Bless you, Sherlock! Think that’s karma for taking pleasure in Mycroft’s suffering?”

“Please, if there was karmic consequences for enjoying Mycroft’s misfortunes I’d have been hit by a bus years ago.”

Brotherly bond. I love their rivalry. Sherlock is so childish he'll happily suffer just at the thought of Mycroft suffering. Priceless.

[matilda3948]

Thank you all so very much!!

#60 Sore

After John left for work, Sherlock went upstairs and changed. He found some eye drops in his bathroom and by the time he finished getting ready for the day he felt almost completely like himself again. Not that he would admit it but John was right; he needed to stay indoors as much as possible. He tucked a handkerchief in his coat pocket and a second one in the front pocket of his pants. Mobile, coat, and he was on his way. Just because he needed to stay indoors didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun.

“Molly, it’s a beautiful day and I’m in desperate need of internal organs,” he said strolling into the morgue at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. “Coffee would certainly be good as well.” He looked around for his pathologist realizing he’d wasted his cheerful monologue on an empty room. “Hmm. No matter,” Sherlock said walking over to one of the medical freezers. Ten minutes later and he was happily examining pancreas cells under a microscope. He had no idea how long he’d been working when he heard the whoosh of the morgue doors and the telltale click of Molly’s shoes—a little slower than usual, he noted.

“Sherlock, please tell me you got that from—”

“The freezer on the left. Yes. I know you’re rules,” he said adjusting the focus on the microscope. The left freezer had been designated as his after he “borrowed” organs from one too many of her bodies.

Ahhktsshh! hhTssshh! Kihtssshh! AhTSHH! AhTSHHOO! Ahtishhooo! Tiisshhhooo!

Sherlock looked up to see Molly sneezing repeatedly into a tissue. The pockets of her lab coat were stuffed with them by the look of it.

“Sorry,” she said. “My hay fever’s pretty bad today.”

“Pollen count is extremely high,” he said.

“I noticed,” she managed before sneezing again.

AhTSHH! Kihtssshh! HahhTSHHoo! Tssshhoo! Ktsschhooo!

Sherlock got up from his workstation and made his way over to Molly. She had her back turned and was quietly sniffling into another tissue. He tugged on her elbow and turned her around, frowning the moment he got a good look at her. Her eyes looked even worse than his had this morning—red and watering. The tip of her nose was pink and looked sore, her face was swollen.

#72 Muffled

“What have you taken today?” he asked. Molly rubbed her nose and pinched the bridge to try and get the persistent tickle to ease up just a little.

“Uh, I took antihistamines this morning and used my prescription nasal spray about two hours ago.”

“So this is better?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded as she pulled another tissue from the pocket of her lab coat, holding it a few inches from her face. Sherlock watched as she wrinkled her nose in that peculiar way she did just before sneezing. She took a quick gasping breath and sneezed.

Ahh hahtsschhoo! Tssscchoo! Ktsschhooo! HahhTSSCHHH! NTSSCHHH! NTsschhooo! Ahhktsshhh! Ktssschhooo!

“Bless you, Molly.” Her eyes were brimming with allergic tears and she dabbed at them with the corner of the tissue.

“Thanks.” She sounded exhausted and she obviously had a terrible headache because of her inflamed sinuses.

“You should have stayed home today,” Sherlock said.

“Too much work to do. Plus, it’s just allergies.”

“Just because it’s not illness doesn’t mean you don’t feel terrible.” He reached out and put gentle pressure on her forhead and she flinched. “Go sit down for a minute,” he said. Sherlock went to the first aid kit and grabbed a chemical icepack, cracking it and shaking it until it got cold. Molly was seated in her desk chair suffering through another sneezing fit.

AhTSHH! AhTSHHOO! Ahhktsshh! Tssshh! Kihtssshh! Ahtishhooo! Tiisshhhooo!

“Bless you. Tilt your head back,” he said. Molly complied and he caught a glimpse of her bloodshot, teary eyes just before placing the icepack over her swollen cheekbones and eyes. “You’ve got it almost as bad as Mycroft,” he said quietly, sitting down next to her.

“He has hay fever?” she asked.

“Terrible. It’s where I learned this from—should take the sting out of your eyes and reduce the swelling in your sinuses.”

“You’ve done this for him before?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock said. “But I’ve watched.” The bridge of her nose wrinkled and she sniffed. He lifted the icepack off her face and pulled the handkerchief out his coat pocket—the one he’d grabbed for her when he left Baker Street. “Here.” She muffled a ticklish fit of sneezes into the soft fabric.

ahhmptssh! mfttsshhoo! Tishhooo! hhmfSHHHoo! hahSHHHoo! ahhMSSSHHoo!

He gave her a moment to blow her nose and wipe her eyes before gesturing for her to tilt her head back again.

“Bless you, Molly.” She sighed.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

[AngelEyes]

“Molly, it’s a beautiful day and I’m in desperate need of internal organs,” he said strolling into the morgue at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. “Coffee would certainly be good as well.” He looked around for his pathologist realizing he’d wasted his cheerful monologue on an empty room. “Hmm. No matter,”

Typical!

“You’ve done this for him before?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock said. “But I’ve watched.”

Priceless!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

OF COURSE he not only knows that Molly has hay fever, but brings an extra hanky for her! Because how else can he be both weirdly attentive and considerate at the same time?

[cally]

“You’ve got it almost as bad as Mycroft,” he said quietly, sitting down next to her.

“He has hay fever?” she asked.

“Terrible. It’s where I learned this from—should take the sting out of your eyes and reduce the swelling in your sinuses.”

“You’ve done this for him before?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock said. “But I’ve watched.”

LMAO!!!! That's such a brilliant bit of dialogue!

Oh, poor Molly. She sounds awfully miserable. And Sherlock was frighteningly considerate. He must be in need of body parts?

[matilda3948]

Oh, poor Molly. She sounds awfully miserable. And Sherlock was frighteningly considerate. He must be in need of body parts?

I have such a soft spot for Molly and love to write her with Sherlock. I don't ship them exactly, but I love the protective, weirdly tender side she brings out in him. So, with that in mind, I just decided to keep going with that thread.

#24 Headache

They stayed that way for a few minutes—Molly with her head tilted back, sniffling every few seconds, and Sherlock standing next to her keeping the icepack in place over her eyes. Sherlock found his mind wandering as he stood there. His pathologist was, in many ways, a profound enigma. He simultaneously knew everything about her and she constantly surprised him.

Her relaxed posture suddenly stiffened and she pressed a finger to the underside of her nose, rubbing it vigorously. The tickle dissipated but only for a moment. Molly sat upright and picked the handkerchief up off her lap, holding it a few inches from her face as she suffered through a few false starts before sneezing.

ahh Hahh hehh…Ahh! ahhmptssh! Tishhooo! hhtisshhho! mfttsshhoo!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said.

“Thanks.” She blew her nose and then yawned. “The ice helped,” she said. “Eyes are better and the headache’s almost gone. I’ll have to remember that.”

“It’s a temporary fix, but a reasonably effective one,” Sherlock said. Molly covered her mouth and yawned again. “You should go home. You’re obviously exhausted,” he said. She rubbed her nose and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” she said.

“Probably?”

Ahhktsshh! Tssshh! Kihtssshh! Ahtishhooo! She sneezed suddenly, barely managing to turn her head. She purposefully avoided looking at him—she knew that distinctly Sherlock “I told you so” smirk that would meet her.

#68 Caught in the Act

“Fine. I’m going,” Molly said, grabbing her purse. She was halfway to the hospital’s exit when she turned around and walked back to the morgue. She wrenched the door open. “Sherlock Holmes!” she called. She’d caught him in the act—rifling through the prohibited right side storage freezer. “Stay out of there! That’s why you have your own freezer.”

“But there are no kidneys in my freezer.”

“I don’t care,” Molly snapped. “Do I need to stay here and babysit you?”

“It’s not like Mr…” Sherlock glanced down at the label. “Mr. Whitmore is going to miss his kidney.”

“Not the point!” She gasped suddenly and sneezed openly towards the floor. Ahhktsshhoo! Tissshhoo! She gripped the edge of the counter and continued to sneeze. Ahhtsshh! Ktsschh! tsschhoo! Tisshhoo! Ktsschhoo! Ktsschh! hehKtsschhoo! AhhTSCHH! Ktsschh! ktisshhoo!

Sherlock gave the kidney a longing glance and tossed it back into the freezer, closing the lid. It somehow seemed like a hollow victory when Molly was sneezing her head off. It was like beating Mycroft at chess during the spring.

It felt like her nose was on fire—a needling sensation deep in her sinuses. One sneeze just seemed to trigger another. She felt a hand on the small of her back and felt something soft brush against the hand she had cupped over her nose and mouth. When she was able to open her watery eye a bit, she saw it was a handkerchief; she grabbed it and held it to her streaming nose.

Ktsschhoo! Ktsschh! ahhKtsschhoo!

She blew her nose and stayed frozen with the handkerchief over her nose, unsure about whether or not she was finally finished sneezing. Slowly, Molly straightened up and took a moment to catch her breath. Her head was swimming and she kept her grip on the lab counter. Sherlock kept one broad hand pressed against her back and with the other reached over and wiped away the allergic tears that had run down her face.

“Bless you, Molly,” he said quietly. “That was a rather impressive sneezing fit. Have you managed to undo all the progress we made on your eyes?” She blinked a few times and felt the familiar sting. She glanced up at Sherlock and he shook his head. “Come on. Home.” He tugged her towards the exit. “Plenty of time to pilfer Mr. Whitmore’s kidney tomorrow.”

[AngelEyes]

“Stay out of there! That’s why you have your own freezer.”

“But there are no kidneys in my freezer.”

First I love that he has his "own" freezer! Second his petulance. "But....."

“It’s not like Mr…” Sherlock glanced down at the label. “Mr. Whitmore is going to miss his kidney.”

I can just just see him saying this, glancing down to check what he's already in the middle of saying. So irreverent. The name is just a detail to him but he knows it should matter so he decides to use it.

You delight me!

[cally]

Sherlock gave the kidney a longing glance and tossed it back into the freezer, closing the lid. It somehow seemed like a hollow victory when Molly was sneezing her head off. It was like beating Mycroft at chess during the spring.

Quite right too, Sherlock.

[Seniorstatus14]

Ahh! These are so cute and perfect! I just binged read all of them! Can't believe I never saw them before now!

[matilda3948]

Special drabbles tonight for Cally who just needs a Greg to take care of her while she's ill Feel better, sweetie!

#71 Pressure

Mycroft winced as the plane made its final descent. His sinuses were killing him and while the private jet made traveling significantly more comfortable than flying commercial (he shuddered at the thought), there was nothing that could alleviate the pressure beneath his eyes and at the bridge of his nose. He'd been in Switzerland for three days and on day two had woken up with the start of a cold. He wasn't extraordinarily surprised; it wasn't uncommon for him to come down with something while traveling. He muddled through with none of the other conference guests any wiser, but when he woke up the next morning he felt absolutely dreadful. His throat was on fire, his head ached, and his nose was plagued by a near constant tickle, working right up to the edge of a sneeze and then disappearing just as suddenly. He was exhausted and feeling a bit achy as well so he couldn't rule out the possibility of a fever. He sincerely hoped Gregory was not out on a case. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed next to his lover and sleep off whatever miserable virus he'd managed to contract in just three day's time.

Mercifully, the plane was the ground a few moments later and Mycroft walked down the stairs and over to the black sedan that was waiting for him. He slid onto the back seat and was greeted by his long-time PA.

"Good evening, sir," Anthea said. "I hope your trip was well." He tried to answer her, but his voice came out in an odd, hoarse whisper. Anthea frowned and got a bottle of water from her purse as her employer coughed into his fist to clear his throat. He took a few sips of water and tried again.

"Thank you, Anthea. My apologies. The trip was satisfactory."

"Sounds like you brought back a souvenir," she said, typing away on her Blackberry.

"Just a very slight cold, I'm sure." Anthea recognized that tone—a strong suggestion that she ignore the obvious.

"Here is the non-critical call list from the last few days. Nothing that can't wait until Monday though," she said. That earned her a warning glare, but she was already engrossed with her mobile. Mycroft gave his nose a swift rub and began reviewing the paper that she’d handed him. Sadly, he had to put it aside a moment later when he felt that damn, persistent tickle flare up again. He took a handkerchief from his suit coat (used, Anthea noted) and rubbed the cloth against his nose. His breath audibly hitched. Hehh Ehh…hehihh…Mycroft gave an irritated sigh.

“Apologies, Anthea.” His voice was strained and congested.

“It’s no trouble, sir. Do you need to stop anywhere on your way home?” Mycroft shook his head, his breath already beginning to grow shallow again.

“No ehh…thank you. hehh…ehh…” His nostrils twitched with irritation but the sneeze just refused to come out. His eyes continued to flutter shut as his breath came in shallow gasps. Mycroft felt utterly absurd. huhh ehh…heh Finally, Mycroft lurched forward catching a violent sneeze in the folds of his handkerchief. Hehh ehhNgsssschhhf!

“God bless you, sir,” Anthea said, glancing at him.

“Thag you,” Mycroft sighed, before giving his nose a quiet blow. “I do apologize, Anthea.”

“Sir…have you taken anything?” she asked quietly.

“Dot yet will but I will as soon I geehh hehh get hobe…” He had to wait less this time around. hehhngtSSHHH! hennTSSCHHMF!

“God bless you, Mr. Holmes.” Anthea dug out one of the emergency handkerchiefs she kept in the car for when his hay fever was especially bad. She held it out to him.

#44 Relief

“Thag you, Anthea.” Mycroft felt a huge wave of relief wash over him as the car pulled up in front of his house.

“Please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need this weekend,” Anthea said.

“Thank you, my dear but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She didn’t expect anything less, giving him slight smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Holmes,” she said as the car pulled to a stop.

“Good evening, Anthea.”

Mycroft entered the house and put his bag down and shrugged out of his jacket and scarf, shivering when he shed the extra layer of warmth. He walked through to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water, sipping it slowly and letting the cool water soothe his throat. Mycroft frowned; Gregory was not at home. He was surprised at the depth of his disappointment and…something else that made him very uncomfortable. He went upstairs and changed into a warm pair of pajamas before grabbing a clean handkerchief and going back down to his study. After turning on the news, Mycroft sunk down onto the sofa and leaned his head back, sniffling deeply. Now that he was home, the full weight of his cold seemed to really be hitting him. Rather than resulting in false starts, it seemed like the tickle in his nose now seemed determined to produce a fit of messy sneezes.

HehhNGssshhh! SNtsschhmf!! heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! NGSHHHMF!

“God bless you!” came a familiar voice from the doorway. Mycroft looked up over the top of the handkerchief he had held to his nose to see Gregory standing there watching him, a plastic bag from the drugstore hanging from his left hand.

heh huh…hhmfngsschhh! NGSHHHMF!

“Bless you again, love.” Greg’s voice was closer now and worried. Mycroft felt the sofa sink as Gregory sat down next to him. He blew his nose and was finally able to properly address his lover.

“Thag you. By apologies,” he sniffled. Greg gave him a sympathetic smile and brushed a stray piece of hair away from Mycroft’s face.

“Can’t send you anywhere, can I?” he asked affectionately, pressing his hand to the younger man’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm and you sound miserable. How did you get so sick in three short days?” It was more a rhetorical question as they both knew that Mycroft was prone to getting sick when he flew. “What can I do?” Greg asked. Mycroft was about to answer him when something extremely strange happened. He suddenly felt tears spring to his eyes. Mycroft seemed just as surprised as Greg. “Love, what’s wrong?” Gregory asked. He took a couple deep breaths and said,

“I’m not entirely sure.” He sniffed and to his utter humiliation, felt a tear slip down his face. He quickly brushed it away, but the moment he felt Greg begin to rub his back he felt another one rise to take its place. “Please forgive me. I…I have no idea what… ‘this’ is all about,” he said, gesturing to his own face.

“No need to apologize for ‘this,’” Greg said repeating the motion. He kissed Mycroft’s temple. “You’re unwell and exhausted.” He put the plastic bag on the table and took out the contents. “We were out of cold medicine so I ran out to get more.” When he saw Mycroft’s confusion, he clarified. “Anthea sent me a text and said you were a bit under the weather.” Of course. “I was hoping to be back before you so you didn’t come in to an empty house.” Suddenly Mycroft understood why he was so…emotional. Gregory wasn’t there when he got home.

“I was afraid you’d been called out on a case,” he said quietly, the damned tears pricking his eyes again. “I’ve missed you.” Greg felt his heart flip-flop and he pulled Mycroft into a tight hug.

“Oh love, I’m sorry. I should have left you a note or something. I didn’t think. Please forgive me.” He felt Mycroft relax into him, resting his head against his shoulder. Greg ran his hands through his hair. “I missed you too,” he said quietly. “So much.” They might have stayed that way longer but Mycroft sniffed twice and then quickly pulled out of the embrace, turning to the side and sneezing.

hehsngSSHHH! NGTssschhoo! hhNTSSCHH! NTSSCHHoo!

#95 Soft

“God bless you, Mycroft.” Greg frowned—these were not his lover’s usual restrained sneezes. These were heavy, wet, violent sneezes that seemed to exhaust the younger man. He opened the box of tissues he’d bought at the store and handed several to the sniffling man next to him. Mycroft simply nodded his thanks and blew his nose. “You sound awful.”

“I feel it,” Mycroft admitted, rubbing his forehead.

“Why not go get into bed and I’ll bring up tea? Take two of these,” he said, handing Mycroft the new box of cold pills.

“Thank you, Gregory.”

The bed felt heavenly—soft and easy on his sore muscles. Mycroft yawned and pulled the blankets up just as Gregory was coming in with two cups of tea. He smiled fondly at the sight that met him.

“You look more comfortable,” he said handing Mycroft his tea. “How do you feel—think I should call John in the morning?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I believe it’s just a head cold.”

“Okay. If you’re sure. I’m going to change and then I’ll join you.”

Mycroft sipped his tea and began to feel himself genuinely begin to relax, quickly growing drowsy. Gregory came back in, switching off lights as he made his way back towards the bed. He glanced at Mycroft and backtracked to the nearby bureau, retrieving several clean handkerchiefs.

“Here,” he said, placing one in Mycroft’s hand. It was clear the other man was about to sneeze—his head tilted back, eyes unfocused, and breathing slightly off.

heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! NGSHHHMF! hehMFSHHHooo!

“Bless you, love.” Greg slid into bed and patted Mycroft’s leg through the blanket.

hhmfSSHHHoo! hehSSHHMF!

“God bless you again.”

“Thag you.” Mycroft blew his nose and got a fresh handkerchief from the stack on the bedside table.

“Alright?” Greg asked.

“Much better now,” Mycroft said through a deep yawn. Greg slid down in the bed and pulled Mycroft towards him, wrapping his arms around him and guiding his head so it rested against his chest. Then he pulled the blankets up over him and slowly rubbed his back. It only a few moments before he felt Mycroft’s breath even out and deepen as he slipped into a much needed sleep.

[AngelEyes]

Awww! Poor lovely emotional!Mycroft.

[Spoo]

Oh noooo. The poor, vulnerable baby. I've never wanted to hug Mycroft more! Guh. This was wonderful, Matilda!

[cally]

When I woke up in the middle of the night I quickly checked to see if anything had been posted, and you did NOT disappoint. (Everyone else does that too, right? Right?) I'm SO in love with these it isn't even funny!

"Sounds like you brought back a souvenir," she said, typing away on her Blackberry.

*This* is why I love Anthea.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He sniffed and to his utter humiliation, felt a tear slip down his face. He quickly brushed it away, but the moment he felt Greg begin to rub his back he felt another one rise to take its place. “Please forgive me. I…I have no idea what… ‘this’ is all about,” he said, gesturing to his own face.

*sobbing*

Thank you so, so much for taking the time to write these Matilda. They have really made my misery a bit easier to deal with.

[HoneyBunny]

How have I not commented earlier?? These are fantastic, Matilda! I especially loved the sick Sherlock one with the long, drawn out fit Please never stop writing these drabbles!

[matilda3948]

They have really made my misery a bit easier to deal with.

I'm so glad! Since you're still not recovered from your cold, neither is Mycroft Feel better, sweetie

#10 Worried

Mycroft sat as his desk and leaned forward, massaging his temples. His head was aching and it was only 3pm. He’d had a pleasant enough weekend at home with Gregory, nursing his cold and sneezing and sniffling his way through nearly every handkerchief he owned (which was saying something). Despite Gregory’s concern, Mycroft insisted he was well enough to go to work that morning and, having been at the conference for the better part of last week, there were things that he really needed to attend to. Mycroft gave his nose a weary rub and sighed. This had become an all too familiar pattern. He picked up his handkerchief off the desk (he’d been sneezing so frequently he didn’t bother putting it back in his pocket) and brought it up to his nose.

hhmfSSHHHoo! hehSSHHMF!

He stayed perfectly still, waiting to see if there was another sneeze lingering. There nearly always was with this cold.

heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! hehMFSHHHooo!

And sometimes there were two. He blew his nose roughly and coughed.

“God bless you, Mr. Holmes,” Anthea said, coming into his office with a cup of tea and clean handkerchief.

“Thank you,” he said, gratefully accepting both.

“Sir, would you like me to reschedule your 3:30pm conference call and just arrange for the car to take you home?” she asked. He shook his head but had to clear his throat several times before answering.

“That’s not necessary,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. “I’ll be fine.” She opened her mouth to say something but stopped.

“Yes sir.” She made it two steps to the door before she turned around and came back to his desk and squared her shoulders. Mycroft raised an eyebrow—this was most unlike his PA. “Mr. Holmes you really seem unwell and, if I may say, you sound awful. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” For a very brief moment, the corners of Mycroft’s mouth twitched as though they were considering lifting into a smile.

“While I appreciate your concern Anthea, I have a slight head cold. It is neither my first nor my last and I am not going to delay international affairs because of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me a moment.” He got up and made his way to his private bathroom down the hall. As soon as the door locked he reached for a paper towel and sneezed just as he managed to get them to his nose.

hehsngSSHHH! NGTssschhoo! hehh Ehh…hhNTSSCHH! NTSSCHHoo! He blew his nose then washed his hands before splashing some cool water on his face. When he looked in the mirror he understood why Anthea was worried—he did look fairly miserable. His face was pale and his elegant nose was red and chapped despite using his softest handkerchiefs. His eyes were a bit glassy and he had dark half-moons beneath them. Gregory was not going to be pleased when he saw him tonight.

#31 Hold Back

He made it through the conference call…barely. Unfortunately Mycroft had to do a fair bit of talking and couldn’t simply hit mute every time he needed to cough or sneeze. He was a master at holding back his sneezes, but one or two did escape over the course of two hours and he was mortified to have to apologize and explain he was a bit under the weather to the other people on the call. By the time he hung up Mycroft was exhausted. His throat was absolutely raw and he knew he was due for a sneezing fit. He might be able to hold them back, but eventually they would come tumbling out of his beleaguered nose in a miserable parade. His eyes snapped open when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir? The car’s ready,” Anthea said. He must have nodded off for a second because she was standing there in her coat, bag slung over one shoulder, with all the lights out in the office. Mycroft nodded and stood up, looking around for his briefcase. “Already in the car, Mr. Holmes,” Anthea said.

“Thank you,” he said, wincing at the way his throat felt when he spoke. When he slipped into the car Mycroft found a hot cup of tea in his cup holder as well as a neatly folded handkerchief. She really was very conscientious. As the car pulled into traffic he took a sip of the tea and sighed. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Anthea.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“I apologize if I was…difficult today,” he said, his voice strained.

“You weren’t difficult, sir.”

“Hmm. Yes I was, but I appreciate your denial.” She glanced up from her mobile, smiled and nodded. They rode the rest of the short drive in a companionable silence except for Mycroft’s increasingly frequent sniffling. He finally picked up the handkerchief and blew his nose as gently as possible but, despite his best efforts, he felt the prickling sensation in his sinuses begin to gather strength.

Hehh ehh…hehh HehIhh… HehhNGssshhh! SNtsschhmf!!

“God bless you, sir.”

heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! NGSHHHMF! hhNTSSCHH! hahEHHNTSSCHHoo!

“God bless you again, Mr. Holmes!”

He nodded and rubbed his throat—all the tea in the world couldn’t protect his throat from the force of those sneezes. Thankfully the car pulled up to the house a moment later, Gregory waiting in the open doorway. He nodded at Anthea, though he couldn’t see her through the darkened windows and waited for Mycroft to make his way up the front steps. Really, Mycroft thought. The two of them scheming together was insufferable. Gregory let the younger man into the house and then silently shut the door behind him. He put a hand on either side of Mycroft’s face and looked him over. As he suspected, Gregory looked very displeased.

#92 Office

“Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and then get into bed,” he said. Mycroft huffed.

“Gregory, I—”

“It wasn’t a request, Mycroft. If you don’t have sense enough to look after yourself I will do it for you.” As soon as Mycroft opened his mouth to argue, Gregory took a step towards him. “You had no business going into the office as sick as you were today. I asked you to stay home, you went anyway, and now you look far worse than you did this morning. I don’t know why—” Greg stopped and took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and then get into bed,” he repeated. Mycroft blinked in surprise but nodded and followed his lover’s instructions.

Mycroft stood in the shower, letting the water beat down on him, replaying the last five minutes. Gregory was angry. Very angry and truthfully Mycroft wasn’t sure why. He did know he didn’t like it. He turned off the water, dried off, and put on a pair of pajamas. He came into the bedroom to find Gregory sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently deep in thought. Mycroft sat down next to him so that their shoulders were almost touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Greg said.

“Gregory, can you please explain what that was all about?” Mycroft said, his voice sounding more strained with every word.

“I worry about you. All the time but especially when you’re ill. I knew you still weren’t feeling well this morning and I was angry that you decided to go to work anyway. It’s made you more ill, Mycroft and I hate that.” Mycroft nodded and sniffled. Sneezing would really undercut the validity of what he was about to say.

“Gregory, there were things that I really did need to hehahh…ehh excuse be…” He grabbed his handkerchief and rocked forward with a fit of messy sneezes.

heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! NGSHHHMF! hehMFSHHHooo! hehh HEH…hehhMPHHSSHHH! hhMFSSHHHooo! ehhMFISSHHHooo!

#59 Apologize

“God bless you!” Greg said, rubbing Mycroft’s back. He gave the younger man a moment to blow his nose and recover his breath before continuing. “Yes, I know there were things you needed to handle today, but I also know those tasks were completed by noon and you could have come home and gotten some rest. I know that your job is going to require you to work when you’re unwell but I also know that you push yourself even harder than you have to.”

“Hmm.” Mycroft couldn’t argue with that. He struggled to clear his throat and then said, “What were you going to say earlier? You started to say ‘I don’t know why’ and then stopped yourself. What were you going to say?” Greg turned so he could look Mycroft in the eye.

“I was going to say that...” Greg sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Mycroft, I don’t know why you can’t show yourself even half the kindness and concern you show me.”

For once in his life, Mycroft was speechless. Also for once in his life, he was grateful that he had to turn his head and sneeze.

heh ehh huhehhMFSSHHHoo!! hehMFSHHHooo! HEH…hehhMPHHSSHHH! HehnMFSSHHHooo!

“God bless you!” Gregory said, leaning over and kissing Mycroft’s temple.

“Thag you,” he whispered.

“Is your voice giving out?”

“Seems to be,” Mycroft said before blowing his nose. Greg kissed his temple again.

“Get into bed, love and I’ll bring dinner up in a few minutes.” Both men stood and Mycroft reached out for his lover’s arm.

“Gregory, I apologize for making you worry…for not looking after myself better. I’m not…um…I’m not accustomed to…well, to having someone…someone…”

Greg took pity on him and kissed Mycroft on the forehead—a bit too warm, he noticed.

“Shh. I know. Save your voice.”

[cally]

I'm so glad! Since you're still not recovered from your cold, neither is Mycroft Feel better, sweetie

Awwww thank you. You honestly have no idea how much I appreciate this. These are absolutely perfect.

[Spoo]

Voice comment alert!