Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[squealofapproval]

See Mom? See? Gays can be in love too!

[cally]

Again, thank you everyone who has left me lovely comments and everything. I should have something up later today, loosely connected but not 100% as I kind of want to just sort of write random things and if they connect that's great, but if not I'm not stressing over it. I also reserve the right to come back to this part of the story later.

Yay, Mycroft caring for dear Gregory, who I just love the thought of being up all night without his medication.

He's sadly become accustomed to having it before bed, and his poor nose just couldn't handle all that outside business. So much for his "baby" hay fever. Of course, if it had been Mycroft, he'd have ended up in hospital, the poor lamb.

OMG! Wow. Stunned. Of course Mycroft books the whole restaurant. Because he's Mycroft. And then, just wow.

Also, Loved this. LOL.

“I’m fine, love. You go off and run the country,” Gregory teased, despite his exhaustion.

Thank you so much. I had been trying to find a way to make it all "realistic" as possible, without going over the top (which I am sure I did anyways!)

See Mom? See? Gays can be in love too!

[AdrianMarx]

I should be essaying but this was much better! I didn't think I even liked Mystrade until now but I've fallen hard for it. You just write it so well. Mycroft is so polite and Lestrade is just fantastic and sweet and caring and he's one of my favourite characters generally. And the interaction between the Holmes brothers is perfect in every single way. I really love how you sometimes call Mycroft "The British Government" because it's a wonderful imagine. I mean, "he undressed the British government" just got me. It's so funny and cute.

I love John too. I love how he's being a doctor and also a friend. Doctor!John is what I live for and people don't write enough of it, really. But I adore it so much, particularly because it's canon so I can definitely see it in real life. I also really love the whole thing with the hayfever and how Sherlock doesn't have it so bad. I just feel like Sherlock has always felt overshadowed by his brother in some ways and that's just another way it manifests itself. When you mentioned his mother thinking he was faking it, it hurt a little more than it should because, to me, that's just Sherlock's life; living in his brother's shadow and always trying to surpass him. His brother is the British government and he works freelance. I don't know. I have a lot of feelings about every version of Sherlock Holmes.

I'm a sucker for all this care-taking stuff (which is probably why I like doctor!John so much, now that I think on it) so everything about this thread is absolutely wonderful. I also love how the brothers knew they were sneezing through their text messages. I mean, "you missed a comma" was just genius. You write so well. I love reading your stories. I like how you've captured the characters but how it seems to effortless. Like you just naturally write as the characters and switch between their personalities so easily. You're very talented! Thank you so much for writing all of these fantastic drabbles!

(Apologies for the long comment. I'm a little bit behind and I get very excited.)

[cally]

I'm a sucker for all this care-taking stuff (which is probably why I like doctor!John so much, now that I think on it) so everything about this thread is absolutely wonderful. I also love how the brothers knew they were sneezing through their text messages. I mean, "you missed a comma" was just genius. You write so well. I love reading your stories. I like how you've captured the characters but how it seems to effortless. Like you just naturally write as the characters and switch between their personalities so easily. You're very talented! Thank you so much for writing all of these fantastic drabbles!

(Apologies for the long comment. I'm a little bit behind and I get very excited.)

Oh wow. Thank you so much. I'm so glad you've enjoyed them.

159. bed

Gregory didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much. The longing, the aching that he was currently feeling was overwhelming. The loneliness he was experiencing was torturous; he quite possibly thought he was going mad.

Mycroft had been gone for two weeks now; the two longest weeks of the detective inspector’s life. There had been hastened, chaste phone calls and the occasional text, but that had been it.

When he arrived home late that evening, exhausted from keeping up with Sherlock and John as they chased a murderer thorough the streets of London, the familiar sight of Mycroft’s umbrella was waiting by the door.

With more energy than he thought he could possibly possess at this juncture, he ran up the stairs to their bedroom. What he did not expect was to find Mycroft in said bed.

“Gregory,” Mycroft’s voice croaked from beneath the duvet. “I would strongly advise you to stay where you are.”

“Love? What’s wrong?”

Mycroft sniffled wetly, shivering. “It appears I have contracted a rather nasty cold in my absence from you.” As if to make his point clear, Mycroft bent forward as he succumbed to a series of tickly and congested sounding sneezes that left him breathless.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! Mmmmmtighish! Heh-hhhhtish! Heh-hhhhtish! MmmmINGHtighsh! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“God bless you, love. I don’t care if you have the plague, Mycroft. I’m not spending another night apart from you.” Gregory crossed the room, kicking off his shoes, and shedding most of his clothing, he climbed into bed with the British government despite his continued protests.

“Gregory, I must insist. Please, my dear heart. Go.”

“No. Like I said, I don’t care. Besides, who will take care of you if not me?”

Mycroft sighed from beneath the duvet and sat up; despite the considerable amount of energy it cost him. An errant auburn curl was loose on his forehead, his cheeks were flushed, and the tip of his nose pink. Gregory thought he looked bloody gorgeous, as wrecked as he was.

Mycroft sniffled wetly again and rubbed his nose. Gregory looked him over a bit more closely. “Do you need anything, love? Cold medicine, tea, tissues?”

Gregory thought Mycroft was considering his offer, but the younger of the two was attempting to keep from sneezing instead. He lost the battle, his breath hitching.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! Heh-tish! Mmmmmpftishooo! Inghtishooo!

“God bless you again, love.”

“Apologies, Gregory. Thag you,” he said through his cupped hands, looking a bit embarrassed.

It was only then that Gregory realised that Mycroft didn’t have any tissues or a handkerchief. “Love, why didn’t you say something?” Gregory got up and rummaged through a drawer, fetching a stack of Mycroft’s handkerchiefs. He handed him one, and placed the remainder on the nightstand.

While Mycroft blew his nose, Gregory went into the ensuite and came back with an assortment of cold medicine and painkillers and a glass of water. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

“I wanted to spare you from this,” Mycroft said congestedly. He selected two of the painkillers for his aching head and swallowed them.

“Bollocks to that! I’m not going to leave you alone to suffer. You should know that by now.”

Mycroft was too exhausted to argue any further. He sank back down against the pillows, shivering.

Gregory climbed back into bed and pulled Mycroft to him. Mycroft resisted at first, but finally gave in, wanting the warmth he could gain from the detective inspectors arms. Gregory held him tight, offering all the warmth he could, placing gentle kisses on the back of Mycroft’s neck.

Mycroft started to doze fitfully and then suddenly shuddered and sneezed explosively, extremely grateful Gregory had fetched him a handkerchief.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmmpftish!

“Oh love. God bless you.” Gregory kissed Mycroft’s forehead.

“Thag you, my dear.” Mycroft sniffled and rubbed his nose with the cloth, yawning.

“Sleep, love. You’ll feel better in the morning,” Gregory promised.

[Spoo]

:wub:

Oh God, the fluff! I can barely handle it. This actually fits my headcanon that Mycroft tends to fall ill while traveling. Also, Greg not caring about getting sick and tending to his lovebug is just the sweetest. Guhh.

[squealofapproval]

Gah, missing someone... I can relate. Just longing, desiring... It drove me so crazy I fell in love with a girl who vaguely TALKED like her.

[AngelEyes]

he climbed into bed with the British government despite his continued protests.

Awww!

Gregory thought he looked bloody gorgeous, as wrecked as he was.

And Awwww!

So sweet!

[Just a Girl]

You have such a gift for writing these. Thanks for continuing!

[matilda3948]

Ohh...sick Mycroft is so very awesome!!

[cally]

You have such a gift for writing these. Thanks for continuing!

Thank you so much..

Ohh...sick Mycroft is so very awesome!!

Isn't he precious? I just want to snuggle him, the poor lamb.

My eyes are really, really bothering me today so I am going to torture Sherlock.

160. microscope

Sherlock and John were returning from New Scotland Yard, where they had been signing statements related to the latest case. Sherlock was currently ignoring John, because he was in a snit about the fact that Lestrade didn’t have a new case for him.

As they were headed toward their flat, John noticed that Sherlock was rubbing his eyes. John was going to comment on this, but remembered that Sherlock would ignore him anyways. Sherlock sniffled wetly and rubbed his eyes again; he looked like a small child when he did that, John thought.

Back inside, Sherlock sat in front of his microscope in the kitchen while John made tea. Sherlock suddenly sat back gasping, as if he had solved a case. And then he sneezed explosively.

HngxTISHssshhoo!

“God bless you, Sherlock!” John wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sherlock sneeze before. “All right?” John asked, placing Sherlock’s tea next to him.

Sherlock sniffled wetly. “Why?”

John looked puzzled. “Why what? Why did I bless you?”

Sherlock sniffled again. His nose was starting to drip. John rolled his eyes and pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his back pocket. “Here.”

Sherlock looked at John, a look of mild revulsion on his face. “It’s clean, Sherlock. And to answer your question, I blessed you because, well, I always say it. I don’t know. To show sympathy, to show I care. Why?”

Sherlock wiped his nose. He looked at the enigma that was John Watson; ex-army doctor in an oatmeal jumper. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” Sherlock said quietly.

“No one’s ever blessed you?” John looked shocked.

“Well, maybe Mycroft, but I probably deleted it.” Sherlock had a flash of a moment, a memory from within the depths of his mind palace. He was high as a kite with a terrible cold; feverish and trembling, and Mycroft was there, sleeves rolled up, auburn hair ruffled as he tried to restrain him long enough to bring his fever down. Sherlock briefly shook his head to clear away the memory.

John wasn’t quite sure what to say. This was an odd conversation to be having with Sherlock, and they had had plenty of odd conversations. He drank his tea and thought about what life must have been like for Sherlock as a child and young adult. He must have spent an awful lot of time alone.

He looked over at Sherlock who was sitting in front of his microscope still, tea untouched. He was rubbing his eyes again, eyes that looked reddened, watery, and irritated.

John pushed Sherlock’s hand away from his face. “Let me see,” he said. Sherlock immediately flinched away, but John’s hands were strong but gentle on Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock pushed away from him again, turning his face from John as he sneezed again.

HngxTIGHissshhoo!

Oh, John thought as Sherlock sheepishly turned back to face him.

He wiped away a tear from Sherlock’s eye. “Bless you,” he said.

Sherlock sniffled and wiped his nose with the soft cloth John had given him.

“Your eyes are red and irritated. Are you allergic to anything?”

Sherlock sniffed again. “As I’ve gotten older, I seem to have inherited Mycroft’s dreadful hay fever. It has gotten progressively worse over the past few years.”

“You might want to think about an antihistamine then,” John said.

Sherlock gave John a look as if he had suggested walking over hot coals while being flogged as a suggestion. “Not possible. I can’t possibly think clearly if I’m taking medicine.”

John mumbled something about cocaine being acceptable but Claritin not, that Sherlock got the gist of.

“Well, if it is a choice between thinking and breathing, I hope you will make the right one, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He was about to return to his microscope, when his nose scrunched up. He pressed the handkerchief to his nose and sneezed harshly.

HngxTISHssshh! HngxTIGHssshhoo!

“Bless you again,” John said, a look of concern on his face.

Sherlock wiped his nose again, and gave John a cursory glance.

“Don’t worry Sherlock. I’ll always say it as long as you want me to.”

Sherlock nodded hesitantly. “Thank you,” he said quietly and turned back to his microscope.

[VoOs]

*delighted gurgles*

Mmmmm, hayfever-y Sherlock. This makes me incredibly happy.

[AdrianMarx]

*squeals* This is so cute. I love when Sherlock tells John about his childhood. It makes me so sad but in a good way?

[ID2006]

Yay Sherlock and John.

[cally]

*squeals* This is so cute. I love when Sherlock tells John about his childhood. It makes me so sad but in a good way?

I enjoy adding in a few of my own headcanony snippets.

Yay Sherlock and John.

*delighted gurgles*

Mmmmm, hayfever-y Sherlock. This makes me incredibly happy.

Would you like to see some more?

161. earrings

A few days later, Sherlock was called to a crime scene. John was at the surgery working, so he had to go on his own. Sherlock didn’t necessarily mind going alone, but he did enjoy the steady stream of praise that John gave, as well as his comforting presence (not that he would ever say so of course).

The crime scene had been cordoned off at the edge of one the many small green spaces in London. Sherlock, not speaking, took everything in, synthesising, analysing. He scanned the victim, her clothing, and the landscape. Three minutes later he could have told Lestrade her life story, but since he was sans John, he kept the superfluous details to himself.

“You’re looking for her brother in law; mid thirties, investment banker in the City, plays 5-a-side on Saturday, enjoys a pint after at his local.” Sherlock rubbed his eyes, glancing at Lestrade.

As usual Lestrade had a look of utmost awe and disbelief on his face. This would go so much easier if the DI just took what he said was gospel, Sherlock thought.

“Explain, Sherlock.”

“They were having an affair; you can tell from the grass stains on her trainers, and her earrrrr,” Sherlock paused to sniff, breath hitching. “Her earrings.” Sherlock paused again, nose scrunching up, and sneezed.

HngISHxt! Hngxt!

Lestrade stared at Sherlock for a second, who was staring up at the sky, ocean stormy eyes watering.

“God bless you,” he said.

“The grass stains are the obvious connection, Lestrade,” ignoring the fact that he had sneezed. The tone of his voice gave the obvious implications that everyone was an idiot, including the detective inspector himself.

Lestrade was about to ask about the grass stains, when Sherlock turned away this time, and was nearly bent double from the force of the last sneeze.

HngISHxt! Hngxt! HngISSHOOO!

Lestrade chuckled. “God bless you again, Sherlock. Are you ok?” He pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Lestrade gaped. “You’re welcome. So, brother-in-law?”

Sherlock nodded, wiping his nose.

Lestrade was about to ask how exactly Sherlock had figured this out, when sleek town car pulled up in front of them. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes and thought about asking Lestrade to arrest him.

The door opened, and the British government beckoned for his younger brother.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Lestrade said as Sherlock climbed into the car.

Sherlock gave him a nod, and shut the door behind him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “What do you want?” He could hear the slight congestion present in his voice, and knew that his brother would too, and wished he had kept his mouth shut for as long as possible.

“Temper, temper, brother mine,” Mycroft said. “I merely wished to inquire after your health.”

“You could have texted. As you can see, I’m fine. Can I go now?” Sherlock was beyond irritated.

“You’re sneezing 98% more than normal, Sherlock. Every year it gets worse for you, doesn’t it?” Mycroft probably meant to sound sympathetic, but instead came across (to Sherlock) as meddling and condescending.

Sherlock was about to make a scathing comment about Mycroft and his hay fever, his weight, and his penchant for cake, when instead he found himself being handed a dark grey silk handkerchief. “Here,” Mycroft said hesitantly.

HngISHxt! Hngxt! Hng’ISSH!

The sneezes tumbled out one after the other, leaving Sherlock a bit breathless and congested. He wiped his nose and sniffled wetly, congested. His eyes were filled with allergic tears, that he refused to let fall. They glistened within his lashes.

Mycroft frowned. “God bless you, brother dear. Would you like me to get you . . .” Mycroft was almost immediately cut off.

“No. No antihistamines. I can’t think when I’m on them, you know that Mycroft.” Sherlock’s voice was scathing. “Besides, John is more than capable in helping me manage, if I were to need any such assistance.” He sniffled again for effect.

It was Mycroft’s turn to roll his eyes. “Very well, Sherlock. You do know it pains me to see you suffer.”

Sherlock gave him a confused look. “It’s a mild case of hay fever, not the plague, and certainly not . . .” Sherlock didn’t bother to finish the sentence; they both knew what he was referring to.

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Trying to take care of Sherlock was like herding cats, he thought.

Sherlock studied Mycroft intently for a moment, making mental deductions. Nuclear warhead missing, lost 2 kilos, eyes slightly reddened and nostrils tinged pink, oh he must be suffering, Sherlock thought, hence the interference.

Mycroft watch Sherlock make his deductions. At least he was keeping his mouth shut, he thought as his own nose tickled deep within his sinuses, signaling the inevitable.

Hehmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

“Apologies,” Mycroft said blowing his nose.

“Bless you,” Sherlock said quietly, slightly reluctantly.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Thank you.”

Sherlock nodded as the car came to a stop.

“Good afternoon, Sherlock.” Mycroft said. And as Sherlock was getting out of the car, he added as an afterthought, “Take care.”

Sherlock couldn’t read anything into Mycroft’s expression. He merely nodded again and shut the door behind him.

[cally]

To follow up on my sick!Mycroft from earlier . . . . is he sick, or isn't he?

162. pillow

When Mycroft Holmes woke up the following morning, he had several thoughts. The first was that he could not breathe through his nose. The second was that his eyes were horribly itchy. Hay fever and a cold? Great. The third was that the warm arms of one detective inspector trapped him. The fourth was that he was going to sneeze in a matter of seconds, and he did not want to do that on said detective inspector. The British government had no choice but to turn his head and sneeze explosively into his pillow.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh!

Disgusted with himself, he sniffled reluctantly. He then heard a sleepy voice come from under the duvet.

“G’bless you, love.”

“Apologies, Gregory. Would you mind letting me go?”

“Huh? Oh.” Gregory loosened his grip from around Mycroft who sat up immediately, grabbing for a handkerchief.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighsh!

“G’bless you again, love.” Gregory snaked a hand along Mycroft’s leg, making an attempt at sleepy comfort.

Mycroft blew his nose. “Thank you, dear heart.” When he could finally breathe a bit better, he took stock of his symptoms and found that he felt no worse than he normally would on any given morning in the midst of a British spring. Perhaps he had not been suffering with a cold, but more severe allergy symptoms. He had been certain he had a cold; he had felt so horrible.

Gregory finally opened his eyes, stretched, and yawned. He looked over at his sleep-rumpled lover. “How are you feeling, love?”

Mycroft rubbed his nose. “I feel no different than any other spring morning, Gregory. Perhaps I was incorrect in my assumptions in having contracted a common virus. I shall have to check the pollen count in Pa . . ., in where I was the past two weeks.”

“Paris, eh? Oooh la la,” Gregory teased.

“I did not say I had been in Paris,” the British government stubbornly countered.

“Sure, you didn’t.” Gregory smiled a lazy, sleepy smile.

Gregory thought for a moment. “Hey, Myc, if you were in Paris, you would have been drinking a bit more wine than usual, right?”

“It is possible, that if I had been in Paris, I would have been following their customs, yes.”

Gregory smiled again. He might not be a Holmes, but he wasn’t stupid. He sat up and began to trace the contours of Mycroft’s face. He had missed this, lazy times in bed, soft touches and kisses.

He ran his thumbs softly over Mycroft’s sinuses and found them once again, swollen. He frowned and leaned over to kiss the dark circles under Mycroft’s eyes.

“I think I know why you were feeling so poorly.”

“Do enlighten me, detective inspector.”

“Red wine plus hay fever equals a higher histamine response. Your flight home probably didn’t do your sinuses any favours either. They’re swollen again, love.”

Mycroft considered this. He would rather have the hay fever than a cold right now, because it meant he could work without having to worry about the possibility of any one else catching it, but also he wouldn’t have to make any unnecessary changes to his schedule. He also wouldn’t have to worry about having exposed his lover either.

“This is possible,” Mycroft said. “I guess I really will not know unless I experience any other additional symptoms.”

Gregory nodded. “I will pay close attention to you, but you should make sure to get plenty of rest today, just in case.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Gregory, I have things to attend to.”

Gregory wanted to throw his pillow at Mycroft. He wished he would just take a day off; he had been gone two weeks and it was obvious that he was exhausted and not well, cold or no cold.

163. exhale

Gregory sighed and put his head in his hands. He took a deep breath trying to not lose his patience. As he breathed in, he felt his nose tickle, and on the exhale, fought to keep his breath under control as the tickly sneezes burst forth. It had been like this for weeks now, every morning without fail, a pair of ticklish sneezes at the very least.

HuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thank you, love.”

Mycroft smiled. “You are most welcome. You did not take your antihistamine last night, did you?”

Gregory sniffled and reached for a tissue. “I was distracted by finding you in bed. I must have forgot. I’m fine, it’s you I’m worried about, Mycroft. You look exhausted. You need rest and you need looking after.” Gregory sniffed and willed the newly building sneeze away; it was hard to convince someone to stay in bed when you yourself were sneezing.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo! RahhhTISHshhhooo!

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “God bless you again, dearest.”

“Thank you, love.”

Mycroft sighed. He did not want to have an argument; he was an adult and perfectly capable of looking after himself.

Gregory took one of his hands. “I don’t want to have an argument either. Can we compromise? Can you work from here for the morning, at least? Rest a bit more; have a decent breakfast? If you’re feeling better in the afternoon, I won’t argue if you need to work. I’m worried about you, love. If I looked how you look right now, you’d have me in restraints and you’d have me banned from Scotland Yard!”

Mycroft took all of this into consideration. “Very well, Gregory,” he said, sighing.

Gregory smiled. “You stay here and rest, and I’ll get you a cuppa and some toast. Do you need anything else?”

Mycroft looked at the assortment of medications Gregory had brought in last night; he had everything and more. “If you are allowing me to work from bed, I will need my briefcase.”

Gregory fought the urge to argue. At least if Mycroft was in bed, he could somewhat control how much work was done versus how much rest.

Gregory stood up and put on his robe. He slipped his mobile into his pocket. He might need backup, and it was best to be proactive in that situation. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, love.” He kissed Mycroft on the forehead and went to make their tea.

[matilda3948]

What can I say that hasn't been said already? You are a wondrous writer of yummy, yummy fiction. Thank you!

[ID2006]

I laughed so hard when Sherlock contemplated asking Lestrade to arrest him. And the bit with Gregorys sleepy blessings and snaking his arm along Mycrofts leg, delightful. Oh oh, and the compromise was genius and the way Gregory is getting to know Mycrofts thoughts... and yeah, I pretty much love everything about this.

[cally]

What can I say that hasn't been said already? You are a wondrous writer of yummy, yummy fiction. Thank you!

You are too kind, and such high praise coming from you!

I laughed so hard when Sherlock contemplated asking Lestrade to arrest him. And the bit with Gregorys sleepy blessings and snaking his arm along Mycrofts leg, delightful. Oh oh, and the compromise was genius and the way Gregory is getting to know Mycrofts thoughts... and yeah, I pretty much love everything about this.

I enjoyed writing those bits; I'm glad you enjoyed reading.

Here are 2 quick drabbles; I should be doing 4 other things and I can't focus at all.

164. lip

Mycroft could hear Gregory sneezing as he went down the hall. He frowned, worrying. He didn’t want to have to start drugging his tea so that the detective inspector would get adequate relief from his allergies. Mycroft hated to see him suffer for even a second; it was unbearable.

Gregory fired off a quick text while he made the tea and toast. While he waited for the kettle to come to a boil, he chewed on his lower lip and worried. He wished Mycroft would just relax, take some downtime, especially when he was obviously not feeling well. Gregory knew he was probably being a bit over protective, but it had taken so long to find this kind of love, and he didn’t want to see his lover suffer any more than absolutely necessary. He rubbed his nose and remembered that he himself still needed to take his medicine as he sniffed, anticipating another sneeze.

Huhhrahhhshhhgnxt! RahhhTISHshhh!

He managed to hold them back, being in the kitchen and all. Finally the kettle boiled and the toast popped, and he was able to prepare a tray to take up to Mycroft.

165. coax

Mycroft rubbed his temples. He quickly realised that Gregory was correct; his sinuses were indeed swollen once again. He searched through the detritus on the bedside table and found a decongestant. A sudden prickle in the back of his nose, had him grabbing for his handkerchief, as his breath hitched and teased.

Gregory chose this moment to come into the room with the breakfast tray. He found Mycroft sitting in bed, head thrown back, with traces of tears on his face. He was fanning the hand clutching the handkerchief in front of his twitching, pink tinged nose, as if it would somehow coax the sneezes out faster. Finally, Mycroft was rewarded with release.

Ahhhh-heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighshOOO!

When Gregory was sure that Mycroft was done, he put the tray at the end of the bed. “God bless you, love!” He gave Mycroft a concerned look as he handed him his tea.

Mycroft wiped his nose. “Thank you, Gregory,” he said accepting the cup of tea.

Gregory wondered if Mycroft was really feeling that poorly or he just didn’t want to risk an argument; he hadn’t even squabbled over having breakfast in bed.

Mycroft rubbed his irritated eyes and drank his tea, while reading his emails on his mobile. Gregory ate his toast and wondered what he was going to do with the British government, when the younger of the two abruptly put his tea down and sneezed.

Heh-heh-hhhmmpftishooo! MmmmINGHtighshoooo!

“God bless you again, love.”

“Apologies, Gregory. And thank you.” Mycroft dabbed at his nose, sniffling.

Gregory reached over and took Mycroft’s other hand, rubbing his thumb across the palm. “You’re welcome,” he said, smiling. “Any major incidents you need to jump out of bed and attend to,” he asked teasing, as he nodded toward Mycroft’s mobile.

Mycroft shook his head. “For once it seems to be a quiet day, Gregory.”

Gregory smiled again. “Good,” he said as he moved the breakfast tray off the bed. He then got back into bed and pulled Mycroft toward him. “Then I can do this without worry of being convicted of treason,” Gregory said and kissed Mycroft gently.

[AngelEyes]

Gregory ate his toast and wondered what he was going to do with the British government

OMG! Swoon! Mmmm. Yeah.

And this is just too cutely funny!

Gregory smiled again. “Good,” he said as he moved the breakfast tray off the bed. He then got back into bed and pulled Mycroft toward him. “Then I can do this without worry of being convicted of treason,” Gregory said and kissed Mycroft gently.

Pretty sure I would commit treason for said British government.....

[Tassielli]

Oh my goodness you update at the speed of lightning. I'm getting used to this, you spoiling me and all, so you need to stop. (Oh my god no don't stop. I can't live without this. I'm dependent on this)

Also, there was only a little bit but I love your sneezy Gregory. Especially in that last one. Can he find some reason for him to never take allergy pill? And just never stop sneezing? Because that would be amazing.

[squealofapproval]

I wish I had the skill to just turn out a Drabble. Guh, I'm really envious.

[cally]

Pretty sure I would commit treason for said British government.....

Same.

Also, there was only a little bit but I love your sneezy Gregory. Especially in that last one. Can he find some reason for him to never take allergy pill? And just never stop sneezing? Because that would be amazing.

I will see what I can do.

I wish I had the skill to just turn out a Drabble. Guh, I'm really envious.

I wish I had the skills to do my actual work!

166. creativity

Gregory was glad to have found a way to get Mycroft to relax. Well, it wasn't that hard, of course. Well, it had been. Gregory smiled to himself. Mycroft stretched out along side Gregory and stretched out comfortably. “I applaud your creativity, Gregory,” Mycroft said with a sly smile.

“Well, I knew I needed to find a way to get you to stay in bed,” Gregory said, nuzzling into the back of Mycroft’s neck.

“Gregory, if your behaviour continues, I shall be forced to take action.” Mycroft may have winked at him, but he would deny it.

Gregory chuckled, and the deep, harmonious sound resonated throughout Mycroft’s body.

They stayed like that for a long while, quiet and close. Finally, Mycroft sat up, stretching. He studied Gregory, and caressed his face.

“Dearest, in about 60 seconds you are going to start sneezing. I suggest sitting up.”

Gregory, who had been half asleep, sat up, slightly dazed. He gave Mycroft a look, incredulous. And then Mycroft was pressing a soft cloth into his hands.

Huhhrahhhshhhgnxt! RahhhTISHshhhoo! HuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

“Goodness, Gregory! God bless you!” Mycroft thought for a moment, while Gregory blew his nose. “Although I must say that does not seem like an adequate response for such a display so I shall say it again. God bless you, dearest heart.”

Gregory wiped an allergic tear from the corner of his eye. “Thank you, love.”

“Now Gregory, please, would you take your pill?”

Gregory chuckled; he had completely forgotten. “Yes, love, I will. Do you need anything?” Gregory asked as he climbed out of bed and headed for the en-suite.

167. messages

“I believe I have everything I need, dear.” Mycroft picked up his mobile, checking for new messages; there were none.

“Gregory?”

“Yes, love?”

“Do you know anything about my lack of email messages?”

“How could I possibly know anything about that,” Gregory said from the bathroom, a smile in his voice.

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. He was going to have to speak to Anthea about her act of insubordination.

Mycroft sniffed delicately and rubbed his nose, now attempting to ward off a sneeze. He rubbed his itchy eyes and sniffed again.

Gregory walked back into the bedroom. “Love?”

Mycroft looked up, rubbing his nose. “Just itchhhhh, ah apologies, itchy.”

Ah-hah-hhh-heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“God bless you, love!”

Mycroft smiled. “Thank you, Gregory.” He rubbed his nose again.

Heh-hhhmmpftish!

The sneeze caught Mycroft off guard.

“God bless,” Gregory said.

“Thank you, dear.” Mycroft went to pick up his mobile again, but Gregory moved to intercept. “Relaxing, remember? I think it is time for a hot shower,” he said.

“Will you be joining me, Gregory?”

Gregory smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”

EDIT: Bonus inability to concentrate drabble!

168. waistcoast

Freshly showered and dressed, Gregory sat in the sitting room rubbing his eyes. He didn’t know what was keeping Mycroft; he didn’t have that many waistcoats to choose from.

He had agreed to the change of room if for no other reason than he himself was getting restless. He figured Mycroft could “rest” just as easily sitting on a couch. He rubbed his nose; he hated that he had become so reliant on medication. He wondered if he had not taken it at all if he would have adapted to the allergy, or if it would have gotten worse. He just generally disliked medication in general, but he was beginning to think he was going to have to change his position on that.

When Mycroft finally came in, Gregory couldn’t help smiling. Mycroft was wearing the jumper he had bought. He wanted to express how this made him feel, how happy, pleased, excited it made him. However, at that moment he was unable to, because the next thing he knew he was bent over at the waist from the force of a rather explosive sneeze.

Hehhhh-HuhhraGHNTshhhooo!

He sat up and sniffled wetly and then immediately ducked his head again, overcome.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo! RahhhTISHshhhoo! HuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhhooo!

Mycroft was immediately by his side, saying something that Gregory couldn’t quite figure out and pressing a handkerchief into his hands.

When the fit had finally left him, and Gregory had wiped his streaming eyes and blew his nose, he processed that Mycroft had been blessing him the entire time.

“My goodness Gregory! God bless you! I am beginning to wonder if you are not more adversely effected by something that blooms later in spring, given how much you have sneezed today.”

Gregory sniffed and rubbed his eyes again. “Thank you love,” he said as he placed a kiss on Mycroft’s forehead. As he poured out their tea, he may have mumbled something about how this happened when he had been delayed or hadn’t remembered to take the antihistamine.

Gregory almost wished he had a picture of the look on Mycroft’s face when he heard that. Almost.

[AngelEyes]

Well, it wasn't that hard, of course. Well, it had been.

Could that have been a double entendre, or am I just projecting? Lovely anyway...

[cally]

Well, it wasn't that hard, of course. Well, it had been.

Could that have been a double entendre, or am I just projecting? Lovely anyway...

Oh, I'd never do that.

[cally]

169. overprotective

Mycroft did not want to have an argument. He was tired; he was not feeling 100% (not that he would admit it, of course). He wanted to drink his tea and read the files he had brought home and watch Gregory lay on his leather sofa and read.

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and sniffed quietly. “Gregory, do you mean to tell me, that this has happened before?”

Gregory had the presence of mind to look sheepish. “Yeah, a few times. It’s not a big deal. I feel fine, love. I know you worry, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

Mycroft turned back to his tea, sipping, and thought for a moment, attempting to keep his emotions under control. He knew he was being overprotective. He just hated to see anyone suffer the way he has, even Sherlock.

“Gregory, I am sorry I have seemed unreasonable. I worry, constantly. I know you are an adult and know your own mind and body; I just hate to see you suffer, to be unwell. I should have asked you how you wished to proceed. I am sorry I did not take your wishes into consideration.” Mycroft sniffed again and reached for his handkerchief, dabbing at his nose.

Ah-heh-hhh-heh-hhhmmpftish!

“God bless you!”

Mycroft smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

170. caution

Gregory sighed and drained his teacup. “You know I don’t like to take medication. I am always worried about becoming too reliant on it. I’ve seen too many good people go down that road.” Gregory was as intentionally vague as possible here; they both knew whom he was thinking of.

“But in this case, love, you’ve been right all along. I don’t need to be sneezing my head off all day and I should have been more compliant in taking the damn pills.”

“Gregory, it is highly unlikely that you will be come a drug addict by relying on antihistamines, but I understand your caution.” Mycroft sniffed again, as his breath had begun to hitch throughout the statement he had just made.

Hhh-heh-hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighshOOO! Mmmpftishoo!

“God bless you again, love!”

Mycroft blew his nose. “Thank you, Gregory.”

Gregory smiled and picked up his book. “You’re welcome,” he said.

Mycroft reached for his files, and Gregory positioned himself so that his head was very nearly in Mycroft’s lap. “Gregory, exactly what are you doing?”

Gregory gave him a ‘who me’ look. “Just enjoying the view, love.”

Mycroft shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he opened one of his files.

171. lunch

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until a ticklish sneeze from Mycroft broke the silence. He had quickly grabbed for his handkerchief in order to keep from sneezing all over his file and all over Gregory.

Hhhhmmpftish!

Gregory raised an eyebrow. “God bless you, love! Are you all right?”

Mycroft rubbed his nose. “I believe so, Gregory. Thank you. I’ve taken the liberty to have lunch delivered in 30 minutes if that suits you.”

Gregory smiled. “Sounds great,” he said, returning to his book.

At some point Mycroft had started running his fingers through Gregory’s hair while he read from one of his files or his mobile. He continued doing so again, and Gregory sighed in contentment.

A few moments later, Mycroft sat up a bit straighter, tensing. He quickly turned his head and sneezed.

Hhhhmmpftish!

He then managed to grab his handkerchief before the next sneezes overtook him.

Mmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! MmmmINGHtighshoooo!

“God bless you, Mycroft!”

“Apologies, Gregory and thank you.”

“You . . . are welcome,” Gregory said as he sat up and kissed him.

Mycroft returned the kiss and smiled. “We should get ready for lunch,” he said.

Gregory smiled as he kissed Mycroft again. “Maybe lunch can wait a few minutes.”