Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[ID2006]

You sly dog Gregory

[matilda3948]

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

Poor Anthea's gonna be in trouble.

“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.”

This makes me melt--the sneezing fit and Mycroft calling him "dearest heart." Aww!

[cally]

You sly dog Gregory

Isn't he?

This makes me melt--the sneezing fit and Mycroft calling him "dearest heart." Aww!

Awwww. Thank you.

172. stitches

It was a wet and chilly spring evening and Gregory sat in A&E after being scraped up at a crime scene, well maybe a bit more than scraped up. More like grazed with a knife blade, actually. He was soaked to the skin and freezing as well. He had texted Mycroft and explained in as many words as possible that he was fine; he was just waiting to get a few stitches. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

So Gregory sat waiting, hands cupped around a lukewarm cup of tea, if you could call it that. It had done little to warm him, as he sat shivering. He shuddered and sneezed into his fist.

Rahhhshhngxtishh!

He was about to search his pockets, but by then a pristine, starched handkerchief was being held out to him.

Mycroft.

Gregory accepted the soft cloth graciously and wordlessly and wiped his nose before succumbing to a pair of sneezes, wincing.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

“God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet, but on edge and strained.

Gregory blew his nose. “Thank you,” he said, sniffling.

Mycroft nodded. “I have ensured that you will be called momentarily. It should not take too long to have your wound stitched. “

Gregory sniffed again. “You didn’t have to come. I told you I was fine.”

“I wished to see that for myself, Gregory.” Mycroft’s hand reached out for Gregory’s. Long, warm fingers closed over Gregory’s hand, his thumb stroking his pulse point, a comforting gentle throb.

173. rodeo

Mycroft was good to his word and Gregory was called in. It only took a few moments to stitch him up and give him a few painkillers. This wasn’t the first time Gregory had been through this particular rodeo.

He was still shivering as he got into the town car. Mycroft offered his coat, but Gregory declined; he was damp and bloody and besides the car was warm enough. Despite the warm, Gregory shuddered and sneezed again, less restrained than before.

HuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

“God bless you, my dear.” Mycroft pulled out another fresh handkerchief and handed it to Gregory. “Here,” he said.

Gregory nodded his thanks and blew his nose, sighing, sitting back against the leather seat.

They were back at the townhouse in no time. All Gregory wanted was a hot cuppa and a shower. Mycroft saw to the tea, and Gregory taped a bin bag to his side and stood in the hot shower until his skin was red.

He dressed in his warmest pajamas and dressing gown and got into bed after the shower. Mycroft had made them tea and toast; there were to be no complaints about eating in bed tonight.

Gregory, a bit woozy from the pain meds, leaned up against Mycroft as he ate and drank. He made short order of both; he hadn’t realised how hungry he was.

He was warmer now and bone-weary, which is why he was surprised when he suddenly sneezed again.

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Hehhhh-HuhhraGHNTshhhooo!

Mycroft had anticipated this apparently, and was bracing him, holding him through the paroxysms.

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thank you, love. For everything tonight.” Gregory yawned.

Mycroft smiled and kissed Gregory on the forehead. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew he was going to lose Gregory to sleep now.

“Sleep, my dear heart. You’re safe,” Mycroft said quietly.

Gregory smiled and snuggled down under the duvet.

“I love you,” Gregory murmured, as he fell into sleep.

“And I you, Gregory.”

[ID2006]

I feel a little guilty hoping/looking forward to more of this. I imagine that wound will hurt when he sneezes and the painkillers have worn off. Poor Gregory... and Mycroft as he watches his lover sneeze and wince with the added pain... hint hint nudge nudge

[Tassielli]

I feel a little guilty hoping/looking forward to more of this. I imagine that wound will hurt when he sneezes and the painkillers have worn off. Poor Gregory... and Mycroft as he watches his lover sneeze and wince with the added pain... hint hint nudge nudge

Ummmmmm Yes! I would love you forever if you could do this. This is like what I dream about

Also have i mentioned how much I loved that bonus Gregory Drabble. You are amazing woman.

[matilda3948]

Aww...love this one!!

[squealofapproval]

I third that emotion!

[cally]

I feel a little guilty hoping/looking forward to more of this. I imagine that wound will hurt when he sneezes and the painkillers have worn off. Poor Gregory... and Mycroft as he watches his lover sneeze and wince with the added pain... hint hint nudge nudge

This is happening, don't you worry.

I feel a little guilty hoping/looking forward to more of this. I imagine that wound will hurt when he sneezes and the painkillers have worn off. Poor Gregory... and Mycroft as he watches his lover sneeze and wince with the added pain... hint hint nudge nudge

Ummmmmm Yes! I would love you forever if you could do this. This is like what I dream about

Also have i mentioned how much I loved that bonus Gregory Drabble. You are amazing woman.

I am so glad! Thank you for reading!

Aww...love this one!!

I third that emotion!

174. humour

Gregory woke up the next morning alone and in rather a lot of pain. Almost like he had been stabbed or something. Well, he thought, nothing wrong with my sense of humour, at least.

He managed to drag himself upright and found a note next to the painkillers that had been rationed out by A&E the night before.

I apologise for not being here when you awoke. I shall endeavour to return as early as possible. Rest and take your pills, please.

-MH

x

Gregory snorted, which caused him to wince. One of these days he was going to snog the properness right out of Mycroft Holmes. Probably not today, though.

He downed the pills and after a few minutes of steadying himself, he managed to make his way downstairs after wrapping himself in a warm dressing gown. Getting old, he thought with a frown.

The coffee was still hot and there was an assortment of croissants and pastries out. Ravenous, Gregory selected a few, and piled them on a plate. He took the lot into the study where he could camp out for the day and be comfortable. There was a large flat screen television and all its accoutrements not to mention a small fridge stocked with water, snacks and other beverages.

He settled himself on the plush couch and ate his breakfast and savoured his coffee. He was still ridiculously cold, and wrapped himself in one of the warm blankets. Shivering, he sneezed, wincing.

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

Now curled up as best he could with the wound, he had warmed up a bit and was beginning to feel drowsy. Gregory fell asleep to the low murmur of BBC news playing on the television.

175. navigate

When Mycroft arrived back home a few hours later after dealing with a minor international crisis, he did not expect to find Gregory in the state he was in.

He found Gregory in the study. Detritus from his breakfast was on the coffee table, and Gregory himself was surrounded by a handful of crumpled up napkins. It looked like he had dozed off, a result of the pain medication, Mycroft thought.

Mycroft studied his lover, taking him in. He ran his fingers through Gregory’s silver hair, gently.

The light touch was enough to wake Gregory; he wasn’t in a very deep sleep. “Mycroft,” he croaked, voice rough with sleep.

Gregory then blinked rapidly and sat up a bit, cupping his hands around his nose.

“Sorry,” he stammered out before sneezing and wincing, his wound still sensitive.

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

Mycroft pulled out a crisp handkerchief from his pocket, and pressed it into Gregory’s hands. He sat down next to his lover, a worried look on his face.

“God bless you, Gregory. Are you ill?”

“Thank you, love. I’m just chilled through from last night.” Gregory blew his nose, trying not to move his upper body as much as possible.

Mycroft studied Gregory’s face and make a look of distaste at the crumpled up napkins. “Gregory, I am aware that you know where I keep my handkerchiefs, why did you not avail yourself to one of them?”

Gregory smiled. “They’re upstairs, and I didn’t think I could navigate the steps. Napkins did the job,” he said, shrugging before turning away from Mycroft to bury his nose into the borrowed cloth.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo!

Gregory hissed through his teeth, his face lined with pain.

“God bless you again, dearest.”

“Thank you, love.” Gregory managed a weak smile, despite gritting his teeth from the pain.

Mycroft took all of this in. “When is the last time you took any of the pain medication?”

“Half-eight, maybe?”

Mycroft stared at Gregory. “Gregory, it is 2 in the afternoon. No wonder you are in a considerable amount of discomfort. Are the pills upstairs?”

Gregory nodded.

“I will return in a moment.” Mycroft leaned over and kissed Gregory tenderly on the lips before hurrying upstairs.

Mycroft returned a few minutes later. He had Gregory’s pills, a bottle of water, and what looked like to be a sandwich.

Gregory smiled at the younger man. And then his nose crinkled, and he was reaching for the handkerchief again.

Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo! Rahhhshhngxtishh!

Gregory hissed in pain again, bracing himself on the couch before succumbing to a final sneeze.

Rahhhshhngxtishhoo!

“God bless you, Gregory!”

Gregory thanked him and breathed slowly, attempting to control the pain. He got himself under control and blew his nose. He then downed the pain medication with a long swallow of water.

Gregory sniffed, trying to keep the building sneeze at bay. Sneezing hurt.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! Huhhrahhhshhh!

"God bless you again, Gregory!"

"Thank you, again." Gregory managed a smile at Mycroft.

Mycroft fretted. He sat back down on the couch, but said nothing as he began to think about what else he could do to ease Gregory’s suffering.

Gregory reached over and put his hand on Mycroft’s leg. “Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You were injured and you sound as if you have a cold.”

“Yes, I was injured. It will heal. I don’t have a cold. I’m fine.” Gregory sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

Damn his stubbornness, Mycroft thought.

Mycroft tried another tactic. “Please eat, Gregory. You must be hungry.”

Gregory had to laugh. He was hungry. “Any crisps?”

The look of horror on Mycroft’s face was almost worth it.

“Crisps?” Mycroft asked.

“Yeah, you know those sort of round salty, crunchy things you eat with a sandwich?” Gregory was clearly teasing now as he began to eat his sandwich.

Based on the taste of the sandwich, it probably cost more than his trainers, he thought, and was certainly better than his usual cheddar baguette at Pret.

Once Gregory had finished, the pain medication was starting to kick in, based on his glassy eyes and stare, Mycroft thought. He put on some soothing music, and removed his jacket, shoes, and rolled up his sleeves. Between the two of them, they were able to find a way to lay intertwined on the sofa without aggravating Gregory’s injury.

And Mycroft held Gregory tightly as he slept, not wanting to think about how close he had come to losing him.

[ID2006]

Whimpers... I do hope he has a cold.

[matilda3948]

"God bless you again, Gregory!"

"Thank you, again." Gregory managed a smile at Mycroft.

Mycroft fretted. He sat back down on the couch, but said nothing as he began to think about what else he could do to ease Gregory’s suffering.

Gregory reached over and put his hand on Mycroft’s leg. “Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You were injured and you sound as if you have a cold.”

“Yes, I was injured. It will heal. I don’t have a cold. I’m fine.” Gregory sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

Damn his stubbornness, Mycroft thought.

Aww,,,worried Mycroft (damn sentiment!) and injured/sick(?) Greg...so awesome!!

[Spoo]

Ohhhhh, Greg, honey. I don't believe you for a second. I think you're definitely catching a cold. Poor thing. I love how Myc fusses over him! Sweet darlings~

[cally]

Whimpers... I do hope he has a cold.

He might. Or with being in A&E he may have forgotten to take his allergy pill- again.

Aww,,,worried Mycroft (damn sentiment!) and injured/sick(?) Greg...so awesome!!

Awwwww thank you. Damn sentiment, exactly.

Ohhhhh, Greg, honey. I don't believe you for a second. I think you're definitely catching a cold. Poor thing. I love how Myc fusses over him! Sweet darlings~

Hmmmmm sick!Greg or allergic!Greg. I must decide.

Here's a drabble completely unrelated to anything whatsoever. A pre-relationship one, if you will.

176. elegant

Detective Inspector Lestrade was walking down the corridor toward his office after a brief meeting with his DCI. He heard an elegant, slightly muffled sneeze come from the other end of the corridor but paid it no real attention.

When he arrived back in his office, he was faced with the usual piles of paperwork. He sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and pulled the first file toward him. A moment later there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah,” he called.

Mycroft Holmes was walking into his office, ever-present umbrella hanging on his arm, posh three-piece pinstriped suit as impeccable as ever.

Lestrade sighed. “What has Sherlock done now?” He didn’t mind the presence of Mycroft Holmes. He actually quite fancied him, not that he would admit it.

Mycroft smiled. “Sherlock is not the reason for my presence here, well not directly anyways, Detective Inspector.”

“Well, in that case, how can I help you, Mr. Holmes?”

Mycroft sniffed, nearly imperceptibly. “Mycroft, please.”

“Very well, Mycroft. How can I help you?” Lestrade smiled slightly.

“I just wanted to take this opportunity to thahhh, apologies.” Hhhhmmpftish!

“To thank you for keeping Sherlock out of trouble this past week.” Mycroft had continued on as if the interruption had not occurred.

Lestrade was a bit surprised at the sneeze. He hadn’t realised that Holmes’ were capable of such a human action.

“God bless,” Lestrade said, attempting to keep the surprise out of his voice. “And it was no problem. Sherlock, while a pain in the arse, is more useful helping me than, well you know.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything for a moment; his nose crinkled at the bridge and he turned to the side and sneezed again.

Hhhhmmpftish! Mmmmmpftish!

“Apologies, again Detective Inspector.”

“God bless you again! And it’s Greg, please.”

“Thank you, Gregory.”

Lestrade smiled genuinely this time. “You’re welcome.”

“I am glad to see my brother involved in something useful, although I wished he had picked a more profitable career. He could be anything he desired, yet he spends his time with his deductions and experiments.” Mycroft gave a louder, delicate sniff this time, and surreptitiously rubbed his nose.

“I don’t think Sherlock is really cut out for a traditional career. I think it would drive him to boredom and back to how he used to be.” Lestrade thought about this for a moment. “Perhaps he should start a blog or something, get some private cases as well,” he mused.

“Perhaps. Sherlock can be rather prolific when it comes to the written word, and may not come off as unreasonable as he does in person as he would online. It is something to think about.” Mycroft sniffed again, wetly this time. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket of his pinstriped bespoke trousers. Ahhhhh-Apologies, Gregory.”

Hhhhmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish!

“Goodness, God bless you! Are you all right?”

“Thank you for your concern, Gregory. I’m quite well. Just a mild seasonal irritation.”

Gregory chuckled. “You’re saying you have hay fever?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I do believe that is what I said.”

Gregory thought again for a moment. “Does Sherlock also have hay fever?”

Mycroft dabbed at his nose with his pristine handkerchief and nodded. “He does, but not to the same extent as I. Why, is there a problem?”

Gregory reddened slightly. “When I saw Sherlock the other day, I threatened him with a drug test. His eyes were red and he looked awful. He wasn’t acting himself either. He told me to sod off and that I saw, but didn’t observe. Shit, I guess I owe him an apology.”

Mycroft made a mental note to pay a visit to his little brother.

“Do not worry about it Gregory. Sherlock has probably ‘deleted’ the conversation already. You had no way of knowing. And now I must take my leave of you, Gregory.” Mycroft stood up, sniffling again and reached for his handkerchief again.

Mmmmmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish!

“Apologies.” Mycroft looked slightly embarrassed.

“God bless you, Mycroft.”

“Thank you, Gregory.”

Well, now or never, Gregory thought as he stood up.

“Listen, Mycroft. You wouldn’t want to have dinner some time, would you?”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know, the last meal of the day, usually in the evening.” Lestrade gave a cheeky smile.

Mycroft studied Lestrade for a moment, and read that he was being completely honest and earnest in his attention.

“Yes, I think I would like that, very much indeed, Gregory.”

[AngelEyes]

Snog the properness out of Mycroft. Lol! I love it! And I love how Lestrade introduces himself as Greg but Mycroft immediately insists on calling him Gregory. So proper. Always so proper. Oh Myc.

[ID2006]

Lovely as always,and I forgot to add earlier how much I love that Mycroft frets about Greg and gets all antsy.

[squealofapproval]

WAAAH "snog the properness our of him" THIS LINE.

[cally]

Snog the properness out of Mycroft. Lol! I love it! And I love how Lestrade introduces himself as Greg but Mycroft immediately insists on calling him Gregory. So proper. Always so proper. Oh Myc.

Oh so proper.

Lovely as always,and I forgot to add earlier how much I love that Mycroft frets about Greg and gets all antsy.

Aww thanks!

WAAAH "snog the properness our of him" THIS LINE.

such an enjoyable line at that

Hopefully I will have a few more drabbles this week, but unsure as to when they will be going up. I have my presentation this week so I need to be focused on that, but I'm not abandoning you or Mycroft or Gregory (or Sherlock or John for that matter). I'm sure this means tomorrow I will be overcome with the urge to write, but today I'm unable to focus on anything!

177. book

A week, 17 texts, 4 email messages, and three strange phone calls with Mycroft’s PA, and finally Gregory had managed to find a time when both he and Mycroft were free for dinner.

Gregory had hoped to take Mycroft somewhere nice, but on the day, he got a phone call from Anthea, Mycroft’s PA, stating that a car would pick him up at 6 and that they would be dining at Mr. Holmes’ residence. She didn’t explain why, she just said it as if she were assembling a nuclear strike and that there was to be no argument. So, he didn’t argue.

At 20 minutes past 6 he was deposited outside a tree lined townhouse in St. John’s Wood. A moment later, Mycroft had opened the door to him, and Gregory immediately understood why they were dining here and not at a restaurant.

Mycroft looked terrible. His eyes were reddened and the tip of his nose was pink. He looked like he hadn’t slept in several days, given the dark circles under his eyes.

Before Gregory could elucidate his astonishment at Mycroft’s appearance, he was being greeted and led inside.

“Good evening, Gregory.”

“Mycroft? Are you all right? You look . . . tired.” Gregory wanted to tell him he looked like shit, but he figured that probably wouldn’t get him very far, so he took the path of least resistance.

“I assure you that I am fine, Gregory.” Mycroft said as he led them him into the study. It was a cool evening, and a fire had been lit. Wine was waiting in an ice bucket; 2 glasses beside it.

Gregory looked around the well-furnished room; the book lined shelves that covered the walls, the overstuffed armchairs, the Persian rug. The room was gorgeous and so Mycroft. Mycroft led him over to the couch, and they both sat down.

“Dinner will be ready shortly. Can I offer you a drink, Gregory?”

Gregory smiled, a bit nervous now, and nodded.

Mycroft poured the wine and the two sat back drinking. Gregory talked about his rather mundane day, filled with boring paperwork and Mycroft listened as if he were actually interested. Gregory wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Mycroft’s interest that actually calmed him. He finally was able to relax once again, and it allowed him to once again study Mycroft’s appearance.

Unfortunately for Mycroft, that happened to coincide with the tickle pricking at the back of his nose. He quickly turned away, and sneezed.

Hhhhmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish!

“Apologies, Gregory.”

Gregory waved a hand, dismissing it. “God bless you!”

Mycroft sniffled quietly. “Thank you.”

Gregory smiled. “If you weren’t feeling well, Mycroft, you could have said. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Mycroft smiled back, he couldn’t help it. “I feel perfectly fine. I assure you, Gregory. Sadly, at this exact moment, I look far worse than one would believe.”

He checked the time. “Now, if you would follow me, dinner is ready.”

Mycroft led the way to the dining room. On the way, he stopped short as he pulled his handkerchief out, and sneezed a bit more emphatically then before, bending at the waist.

Hhhhmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish! Mmmmmmpftish!

“God bless you again, Mycroft!” Gregory had a look of genuine concern on his face as he took Mycroft by the elbow as they entered the dining room.

Mycroft looked as though if he were blushing. “Thank you, Gregory, and again, apologies.”

Gregory took a seat next to Mycroft and took a chance and squeezed the younger man’s hand. “Don’t worry yourself over it. Really.” He gave him an earnest smile.

Mycroft studied Gregory, deducing him, and found that he was being completely open and honest. He wasn’t bothered or disgusted or annoyed. He was just pleased to be there, with him.

[AdrianMarx]

Aw I love this. I like how Mycroft can tell Greg is being genuine. And it's so cute ahhhh.

[squealofapproval]

I really honestly want to see these two interact on screen :/

[AngelEyes]

I love this "back in time" kick. Lovely!

[cally]

Aw I love this. I like how Mycroft can tell Greg is being genuine. And it's so cute ahhhh.

Well he IS a Holmes.

I really honestly want to see these two interact on screen :/

I KNOW!

I love this "back in time" kick. Lovely!

Thank you! I felt like doing something a bit different.

Ok, now back a few drabbles to poor injured Gregory.

178. hindsight

When Gregory woke up, he was very warm; being pressed up against the couch and Mycroft would do that. He couldn’t tell if Mycroft had also fallen asleep and if he had he wouldn’t have been surprised. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Mycroft sleep.

Gregory tried to breathe in through his nose, which in hindsight was a bad idea. His nose immediately prickled and he was overcome with a fierce series of sneezes.

Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo! Rahhhshhngxtishh! Rahhhshhngxtishh!

It was only after he sneezed he realised he sneezed on the British government. Bugger, he thought.

As his breath hitched again, he felt Mycroft shift his position on the couch and found a soft cloth being pressed into his hand.

Hehhhh-hhh-hhh’Rahhhshhngxtishh!

“God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice sounded fuzzy with sleep.

“Ugh, thag you. I’b sorry love, I think I sneezed od you.”

Mycroft helped Gregory sit up, closely scrutinizing him. “It is not something to trouble yourself with. You are unwell and injured.”

Gregory tried to wipe at Mycroft’s arm with the handkerchief, but Mycroft took hold of his arm. “Gregory, please desist and use this for something more useful.”

Gregory took the hint and blew his nose, which unfortunately just caused him to sneeze again. He winced in pain.

Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo! Rahhhshhngxtishh!

“God bless you again, Gregory!”

“Thag you, love.”

Gregory let his head fall onto Mycroft’s shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments. Mycroft took his lover’s free hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the palm.

After a few minutes, Gregory took the handkerchief that was in his other hand and awkwardly blew his nose again. He sniffled and cleared his throat.

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I have a cold.”

“I know, dearest heart.”

[Spoo]

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I have a cold.”

“I know, dearest heart.”

*SQUEAL*

[matilda3948]

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I have a cold.”

“I know, dearest heart.”

*SQUEAL*

^^^ YEP!!!

[cally]

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I have a cold.”

“I know, dearest heart.”

*SQUEAL*

I am glad you approve.

“Mycroft?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I have a cold.”

“I know, dearest heart.”

*SQUEAL*

^^^ YEP!!!

*giggles*

179. promise

Gregory snuggled down further into Mycroft’s arms, taking care not to pull on his stitches. Mycroft brought his arm up and tangled his fingers into Gregory’s soft silver hair. They stayed in this position until Gregory shuddered and sneezed, wincing.

Rahhhshhngxtishh!

“God bless you, dear.”

“Thag you.” Gregory sniffed and yawned.

“There will be some soup delivered for you in the next 20 minutes,” Mycroft said. “And then you must get some more rest, dearest heart.”

Gregory sighed. He’d been resting all day. But he was tired and his stitches hurt more than he had expected them too, and he felt just generally rather unwell.

“Fide,” he said. “But you need to probise to get some sleep todight. I know you haven’t beed sleeping well.”

“Very well, Gregory.”

Gregory sat up and stretched very slowly, not wanting to pull on the stitches any more than he had to, but he was awfully stiff from being flopped on the couch all day. He rolled his neck and sniffled wetly.

Mycroft made a face of distaste at the sound.

Gregory looked down at the handkerchief and realised it was far passed being of any use and made a face himself.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and pulled out his own handkerchief and handed it to Gregory. It was cream coloured silk; soft and extravagant. Gregory went a bit wide-eyed at the cloth, but wiped his nose regardless.

The touch was whisper soft, and light, but it was enough to set his now sensitive nose off again. He braced himself for the sneezes.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo!

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thank you, love.”

Mycroft’s phone buzzed and he got up to attend to dinner with a brief explanation that he would be returning momentarily.

Gregory rubbed the kinks out of his neck while he waited for Mycroft to return. He hated feeling miserable, and he hated putting Mycroft out because he was unwell. He knew that Mycroft had to have more important things to attend to than watching him sleep.

A few moments later, Mycroft returned with tea, soup, and cold medicine for Gregory.

Mycroft smiled at his lover. “Soup and a good night sleep, my dear. Hopefully that is all you need to get you feeling better.”

Gregory returned the smile. “Thank you, love. You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Gregory. There is nothing more important than your well-being.” Mycroft was astounded that the detective inspector would even think that his work was more important than the man he loved.

Gregory was shocked at the passion behind Mycoft’s words. He was serious.

He smiled again and took Mycroft’s hand. “Thank you,” he said squeezing his hand.

180. frown

Soup, tea, and cold medicine consumed, Gregory wearily made his way upstairs to bed. Mycroft followed, making sure Gregory had everything he needed; water, tissues, clean handkerchiefs, pain medication, fluffed up pillows.

Before Gregory could get himself all the way into bed, he had to sit on the edge, nose tickling. He rubbed his nose, hoping to ward it off and failed. He grabbed a clean handkerchief and harshly sneezed, trying not to move for fear of aggravating his wound.

Mycroft came around behind him and held him as his body was wracked by the ticklish sneezes.

Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo! Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo! Rahhhshhngxtishh! Rahhhshhngxtishh!

“Ugh,” Gregory said.

“God bless you, dear,” Mycroft said.

“Thank you, love,” Gregory croaked out. Bloody cold, he thought, frowning.

Mycroft helped him get comfortable; bracing his injured side with a soft pillow and gave him his pain medication. Gregory gave him a look about it, but from the way Mycroft was frowning at him, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to not take it.

Gregory paused before taking the pills to sneeze, bracing himself again.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! Rahhhshhngxtishh!

“God bless you again, Gregory!” Mycroft looked worried.

“Thank you, love.” Gregory blew his nose and then took the pain medication. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Get some sleep, dearest. I shall be back to sleep in a while.”

Gregory smiled and settled back on the pillows. “Good night, love.”

181. nightmare

It didn’t take long for Gregory to fall to sleep. The next thing he knew, Mycroft was calling, shouting out his name, and the two were tangled up in the duvet. Mycroft was covered in a cold sweat, shaking and shouting Gregory’s name.

“Mycroft,” Gregory said. No response. “Mycroft, love!” He reached over and grabbed Mycroft’s arm. “Love, wake up!”

Mycroft awoke, and bolted upright. “Gregory!”

“I’m right here, love. I’m right here,” Gregory said soothingly, rubbing circles on Mycroft’s back. “It’s ok, it was just a nightmare. I’m right here.”

Gregory continued to rub Mycroft’s back while the British government got his breathing back under control. Gregory sniffled and rubbed his nose with his wrist. Despite the way he woke, he was feeling better, despite the urge to sneeze that was starting to build.

“Hold on a ahhh aaah sec,” he said to Mycroft. He quickly turned away and sneezed a pair of messy sneezes.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! Rahhhshhngxtishhooo!

“Sorry, love. Are you all right now?” He turned on the light on the bedside table so he could look at Mycroft. Mycroft’s hair was sticking up in places. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, and tears were still building at the corners of his eyes. His nose was running and he was still covered in a sheen of cold sweat.

Gregory took a clean handkerchief from the bedside table and used to wipe the tears from Mycroft’s face. He dabbed at Mycroft’s long nose, and then wiped the sweat from his brow. He never took his hand from Mycroft’s back as he made soothing circles.

Mycroft finally got his breathing under control. He took a deep shuddering breath and took the cloth from Gregory and blew his nose.

“I am sorry for waking you, Gregory.”

“Love, it’s fine. You had a nightmare; it’s not your fault. Do you want to talk about it?”

Mycroft took a deep breath. “I could not get to you in time. You, you were stabbed. And I could not get there.” His voice was quiet and sounded far away. Mycroft took another deep, shuddering breath.

Gregory took his hand and put it on his chest so Mycroft could feel his heart beating. “I’m here. I’m ok. It’s ok.” He pulled Mycroft to his chest and held on. He hadn’t realised how much Mycroft would be affected by the events of the previous evening. Gregory kissed the top of Mycroft’s head and murmured reassurances.

He was none to pleased when Mycroft’s soft hair tickled his nose and caused him to have to pull away quickly.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! Rahhhshhngxtishh! Huhhrahhhshhh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhoo!

Mycroft looked up, concerned.

“God bless you, Gregory! How are you feeling?”

Gregory grabbed a handful of tissues and blew his nose. “I actually feel a lot better, just got a deep breath of your hair,” he said, chuckling.

“Apologies, Gregory.”

“Mycroft, there is nothing for you to apologise for!” Gregory settled back in bed, pulling Mycroft with him. They positioned themselves so that Mycroft’s head was right over Gregory’s heart. Gregory ran his fingers through Mycroft’s sort auburn hair until he stopped shaking and his breathing was regular and even. And he held on and didn’t let go.

[ID2006]

*Squeals with the rest before dying a happy death. I love these two.

[cally]

*Squeals with the rest before dying a happy death. I love these two.

I love them too.

I am now stress drabble writing. So a bit not good.

182. statue

It was a lovely spring morning when Mycroft was making his way to Baker Street. He tried to visit his brother at least twice a month, despite the fact that the visits left them both irritated. Needs must, appearances and all.

Mycroft liked to make sure that the flat was still standing and that Sherlock hadn’t murdered Dr. Watson in the night, although he probably would have heard about those occurrences before he arrived on the premises.

He was thinking what he could say that would push his dear brother’s buttons the most, when he abruptly sneezed mid-thought.

Hhhhmmpftish!

Anthea raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look up from her mobile. “God bless you, sir.”

“Thank you, Anthea.”

Mycroft sighed to himself. He had been hoping for a better start to the day.

Mycroft let himself in and up the seventeen stairs to Sherlock’s flat. He didn’t bother to knock. Sherlock was sprawled in his chair, undressed and unshowered, still in his pajamas and dressing gown and was flipping through the morning paper. He glanced at Mycroft, rolled his eyes, and went back to the paper.

John was in the kitchen, fully dressed. “Tea, Mycroft?”

Mycroft nodded and crossed to sit across from Sherlock in John’s chair. This caused Sherlock to roll his eyes again as he sat up and looked over his brother. Typical deducing pattern, as expected.

The two then went on to have a lengthy non-verbal conversation that seemed to only involve the raising of eyebrows and rolling of eyes. John watched all of this while the kettle boiled and prayed for Lestrade to text with a murder case.

By the time the kettle had boiled, and the tea had been made and brought out, not a word had been exchanged between the two brothers. It was starting to creep John out, actually.

“Any chance of either of you speaking today?”

There was no response.

“Yeah, thought not,” John said to the air.

He sipped his tea and watched.

It appeared that neither of them were even looking at each other at this point. Sherlock was rather pointedly focused on his tea right now, and Mycroft was sitting as still as a statue.

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache and it hadn’t even gone ten in the morning.

Mycroft finally moved; he picked up his tea and took a sip. Sherlock nearly leapt out of his seat at the activity; he was so hyper focused on Mycroft’s every movement.

John finally gave up watching whatever childish game was going on between the two. He picked up Sherlock’s discarded paper, sat down at the table and began to read.

The only sounds were the occasional page turning or sip of tea. It was unnervingly silent.

Fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds later Mycroft sneezed and John nearly jumped out of his chair.

Mmmpftish!

“Bless you,” John said, attempting to act like he had just nearly not fallen out of his seat.

Sherlock snickered and looked like the cat that got the cream.

John sighed. “Sherlock,” he warned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Bless you, brother mine.” It came out very sarcastic. John pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“Apologies, and thank you,” Mycroft said. He stood and smoothed out the invisible creases in his trousers. He picked up his umbrella and crossed the room. “Good morning, Sherlock. John.” He nodded at John and walked out the door.

A moment later and John asked, “What the hell was that about?”

“You see but you do not observe, as always, John,” Sherlock drawled, sniffling. “Mycroft and I were merely seeing who could go the longest without sneezing.”

“Seriously?” John stood and looked at Sherlock. “You’re a genius and he’s the bloody government and you were. . .” John was cut off as Sherlock was bent over from the force of a fit of explosive sneezes.

HngISHxt! Hngxt! HngISSHOOO! Hngxtishooo!

“Bless you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sniffled again. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Never a dull moment, John thought.