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Not Just For Now, a Sherlock Johnlock Sickfic


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Okay, here's my crack at writing some Sherlock. Don't shoot me.


John had a sniffle. Sherlock could deduce one coming on before it even hit. He could read the subtle signs. It was common deduction, but a little bit enhanced due to his sneezing fetish. John's eyes were red and he started to sound a bit huffy in his breathing. It was a sign of congestion gathering in the chest. He was on to him even before the first sneeze.

They were standing over a corpse, and as John's mouth opened all that came out was, "ihh...NGHsshuh!" Sherlock looked up, pretending to be confused, so he could see the spray. It glistened in the sun coming in through the window. John wiggled his itchy nose and said, "Well, get on with it."

"Uh," Sherlock raced to remember what he was supposed to say. "Well, it seems-"

"Hah-AHssshh! Ugh. 'Bmust be all the dust idn here." John rubbed underneath his nose.

"Uh, I guess." Sherlock examined the corpse closely. "Look at how the fingerprints are around the neck and no where else. The killer must not know him, and-"

"Eh'PFTchhuh! I'm sorry Sherlock, I can't help it." John bent at the waist as another sneeze overcame him. "Heh'EHSSH! Heh'EITchhoo! Well I'm leaving."

"Wait John-"

As John was led by Lestrade out, Sherlock followed. He grabbed John by the collar of his jumper. John sneezed again.

"John, clearly you are coming down with a cold. You have snot dribbling down your chin for God's sakes."

"It's gross," Lestrade added.

"I feel God-awful," John massaged his temples.

"Let's go home," said Sherlock.



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Okies. Here's the next part guys. I'm very flattered by the praise. This is the first big work I'm working on, besides little drabbles here and there.


John woke up in a haze. All he could remember was someone carrying him home. He had some food set on a tray beside him, and felt his throat throb. Then he remembered the sneezing fit at the crime scene and wanted to sink into the cushions. He had distracted Sherlock. He had probably infected everyone.

"Oh, you're up," Sherlock's deep voice carried through the living room.

"Yeah," John sat up, only to awaken a set of coughs and feel his head spin. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Sherlock said as if it were obvious.


"You passed out," he repeated. "How would you like tea?"

Right then, a sneezy feeling overtook him. He pinched his nose to no avail. "Heh'ZCHuhh!" A wad of snot splatted into his hand and Sherlock pulled a tissue from the box and gave it to him.

He said, "Bless you."

Wait, since when did Sherlock Holmes say bless you? John knew something was up, but he wasn't sure what.

"Yeah, thank you. Tea please-hehh-ahh-Heh'ISSHoo!"

"Breathe, John."

"Shut up."

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John remembered falling asleep. But he hadn't remembered this. He was curled up in a fetal position on Sherlock's bed, Sherlock was watching him as he woke up.

"Why amb I idn your bed?" John said stuffily.

"I guessed it was easier for me to pay attention to what you wanted."

"Okay... And is there a specific reason why you wanted to "pay attention to what I wanted"?"

"Erm," Sherlock averted his gaze.

"No way!" John held a pillow in his hand. "No way!" He said, hitting Sherlock with it. "Is this something to do with an experiment? Cause if this is, and you got me sick-"

"It's not an experiment," said Sherlock. "Relax."

"Then what is it?"

"I dunno if I could tell you," Sherlock turned on his side, away from John. "It's a secret."

"Heh'ISSHoo!" John sneezed into his elbow, blinking back at the light fixture, which only... "Heh'ehGEHshhoo!" brought out another sneeze.

Sherlock squirmed.

"What kind of secret?"

"Uh... A sexual secret."

John's heart wanted to believe Sherlock, but his mind said, "When the flick does Sherlock Holmes talk or even think about sex?" He scootched closer to Sherlock, tapping his shoulder. "You can tell me."

"I can?"

"I am your friend, aren't I?"

"Best friend," mumbled Sherlock. "So here goes. Should I start with the normal one or the crazy one."

"Heh'ESSHOO! Let's start with normal."

"I'm, I'm, bisexual."


"I'm bisexual for you, John."


"Do you like me too?"

This was a little sudden, but John had imagined this conversation a million times. "Uh, yeah, quite a lot actually."

"Oh? Well then. On to the odd part..."

It was funny how quickly that had happened, as if it was imaginary or something. Like they had never said anything. But right then, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and spoke real low.

"I have a bit of a fetish."

"For what?"



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"Oh." John bit his lip again. "Well, I just have one thing to say to that." Before Sherlock could reply, John gave him a big hug. "That's the best, most brilliant thing I've ever heard."


"This way, it's easy for me to indulge you, and I'll know that sneezing isn't half as embarrassing as it was before."

"But what about my love confession, John?"

"It's returned," John reached over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "I'll give you more after I get better."




The two laid in happy silence, fingers intertwined. Finally, Sherlock spoke up. "I can't believe this is not just for now."

"I know, right? It's like everything is right in the world."


"Hehh... Huhh-KNTCHuuh! Heh'INTCHoo!"

Sherlock ruffled John's hair. "Bless you."

"Thank you. I love you."

"I l-love you, you idiot."

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This is the final part.


"John?" A hoarse voice floated over from Sherlock's part of the bed.

"Hi? What?"

"I don't feel-heh'inttchew!" Sherlock scrunched his face up, sneezing into his hand. "Feel too good. Het'issshiew!"

"Bless you. Let me see what I can get you." John slid out of bed.

And that's when John realized that he was where he was supposed to be.



THIS was so fluffy.

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