Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[squealofapproval]

We all know how hard Anthea ships them.

Yeah, Anthea's on that boat too.

[AngelEyes]

Poor and pathetic and beautiful and lovely indeed!

[cally]

Mycroft working while suffering from a cold is just the most adorably pathetic thing ever. And look! Now he has two people to bless him.

We all know how hard Anthea ships them.

He does. Poor lamb is so unwell and needs all the blessings he can get.

We all know how hard Anthea ships them.

Yeah, Anthea's on that boat too.

LOL!

Poor and pathetic and beautiful and lovely indeed!

Aww thank you!

202. lungs

Another twenty or so minutes passed and then Mycroft woke on his own. He sat up quickly, which made him a bit dizzy, and he swayed a bit. Gregory steadied him and was about to ask how he was feeling. And then he saw that his lover’s nose was wrinkled at the bridge, his long eyelashes were fluttering, and he was breathing erratically. Gregory reached over and grabbed one of the remaining handkerchiefs and pressed it into Mycroft’s hand.

His breathing continued to be erratic for a moment until finally he was rewarded with release.

MmmmINGHtighsh! MmmmINGHtighshoooo! Ishoooo! INGHtishooooo!

Gregory rubbed his back and blessed each sneeze, worried.

“God bless you sir,” Anthea said. She looked concerned as well.

Mycroft was unable to respond. He went from sneezing immediately into a fit of coughing that sounded like his lungs were being crushed. He forced himself up and headed out of the room croaking out “excuse me” in between coughs.

Gregory and Anthea exchanged a look. She nodded and began to make some calls. Gregory made one of his own.

Arrangements had been made by the time Mycroft came back in, sneezing harshly. He had combed his hair and washed his face, but still looked exhausted, haggard, and pale.

MmmmINGHtighsh! MmmmINGHtighshoooo! Tishoooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you, love!”

“God bless you, sir!”

Mycroft blew his nose and sat back down. “Thag you both. Apologies,” he croaked out.

“Love, you sound awful.” He moved closer to Mycroft and put an arm around him. “Can I get you anything?”

Mycroft coughed again, though not as painfully as before. Anthea crossed the room. “I’ll get you some water, sir,” she said as she headed out of the room.

203. relish

Gregory rubbed his back until Mycroft had stopped coughing. Mycroft sniffled wetly and rubbed his nose. Gregory handed him the last crisp handkerchief. “Here, love.”

“Thag you, Gregory,” he croaked out with a cough. He paused for a moment and then brought the handkerchief up to his now rather red nose.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhh! Ishoooo! INGHTishoooooo!

"God bless you, love!" Gregory felt helpless; there was nothing he could do. He rubbed Mycroft's back again, trying to be comforting.

"Thag you, dearest heart," Mycroft croaked out, congestedly.

Anthea came back in with the water. Mycroft accepted it gratefully, relishing it. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt so terrible.

He coughed and rubbed a hand across his face. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “Anthea, cad I habe the briefing materials for the conferedce call?”

“What conference call, sir?”

“The conferedce call at . . .” Mycroft paused and looked at Anthea and then at Gregory. “You two are colluding again.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, sir. That call needed to be rescheduled for a later date. I was planning on telling you as soon as you woke.”

Mycroft gave her a stern look, which didn’t serve its intended purpose, as he scrunched up his nose and sneezed immediately after.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhh! Tishoooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you!” Anthea and Gregory said in unison.

Gregory rubbed his back. “Love, you are unwell. Please let us take care of you.”

Mycroft was about to tell them both what he thought about their interference, but there was a knock at the door. Anthea went to answer it.

Mycroft looked at Gregory and sighed knowing very well who it was.

204. seal

Anthea returned with John Watson in tow. He took one look at Mycroft and sighed. “You look awful, Mycroft.”

“So I’ve been told,” Mycroft croaked.

John winced at the sound of his voice. “All right, let’s take a look at you.”

Gregory got up and out of the way so John could sit down, avoiding the glare emanating from his lover.

John made a quick external exam, noting that Mycroft was extremely pale, and that there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. John took his pulse; it was a bit rapid, but not serious.

He took out his stethoscope so he could listen to Mycroft’s breathing. Mycroft held up a hand. His breath hitched and he turned away from John.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhh! Tishoooo! Ishoooooo! Mmmmpftishooo! Mmmmpftish!

“God bless you,” Anthea and Gregory said in unison once again.

“Bless you,” John said quietly. “Ok?” he asked him.

Mycroft nodded and blew his nose.

“Thag you,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” John said. “I’m going to listen to your chest now, ok. I need you to breathe slowly and deeply.”

Mycroft was able to do that for a few breaths and then he had to stop and cough. He sounded like a barking seal. John winced and handed him a glass of water.

Mycroft drank slowly, trying to get his breathing under control. He coughed again, less harshly though. This was entirely intolerable, he thought.

Finally he pulled himself together. John gave him a sympathetic smile. “Once, more ok?” Mycroft nodded. John listened again, frowning.

205. syrup

He put the stethoscope away. “I’m glad Greg called me. You have bronchitis, Mycroft. I’m going to write you a few prescriptions for antibiotics and some strong cough syrup. It should help. But I would strongly suggest taking the weekend off, if that can be arranged.” John looked over at Anthea, who nodded and fired off several text messages.

John took out his prescription pad and wrote out the prescriptions. “Rest, lots of fluids, more rest. Let me know if you feel any worse. The cough syrup will make you drowsy, just so you know.”

Mycroft nodded and then quickly turned away again.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhh! Ishoooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“Bless you!” John said.

Gregory had come back over and was standing behind the couch. “God bless you, love.”

Mycroft’s breath hitched again, and he sneezed harshly into his handkerchief.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhhooo!

“God bless you,” Anthea, Greg, and John said.

“Thank you,” Mycroft said. “Apologies.”

“There’s no need to apologise, Mycroft. You’re unwell.” John smiled at him.

He handed the prescriptions to Anthea, knowing she would be the one to take care of them. “Greg, make sure he gets enough rest. Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

He stood up and picked up his bag. Anthea followed. “I’ll go and take care of this sir, and pick up anything else you might need for the weekend.”

Mycroft nodded.

“Feel better,” John said as he left.

“Cheers, John,” Gregory said.

Gregory turned to Mycroft. “Ok, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

[matilda3948]

Awwww...poor thing! You write a great sick Mycroft!

[cally]

Awwww...poor thing! You write a great sick Mycroft!

Awwww. So do you. Poor lamb is not a happy government.

206. revolting

Mycroft let himself be led upstairs. He felt too horrible to argue; he felt feverish and exhausted. He could not remember a time when he had felt so ill. Every muscle ached and his chest hurt from coughing. His sinuses were clogged, he could hardly breathe, his eyelashes hurt. He sniffled wetly, dejected; disappointed his body had betrayed him like this.

Gregory helped him into his pajamas and into bed. He brought him more tissues and handkerchiefs and a glass of water. He was going to go and make them some tea, but Mycroft grabbed his wrist. “Stay, please.”

Gregory sat on the bed next to Mycroft, and pulled his ill lover into his arms. Mycroft shivered and coughed weakly, a horrible barking wheezy sound. Gregory pulled the duvet up over Mycroft, trying to keep him warm.

Mycroft sniffled and turned away, shuddering. His breath hitched; he was on the precipice of a sneeze that didn’t want to come. Gregory reached over for one of the handkerchiefs and placed it in Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft nodded and rubbed his nose. His made a sort of harsh, breathy sound and sneezed messily into the soft cloth.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhhooo! INGHtishhh! Tishoooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you, God bless you. God bless you! Oh love, you poor thing.” Gregory kissed the back of Mycroft’s head. He hated seeing Mycroft suffer.

Mycroft blew his nose. “Thag you, Gregory.” He sniffled wetly and sighed.

There was a knock at the door and Anthea poked her head around the door.

“Sir, I have your prescriptions.”

She came in with a paper bag and two cups of tea.

Mycroft smiled weakly at her. “Thag you, Anthea.”

Gregory smiled and took the medicine and tea from her. “Cheers, Anthea. Thanks for this.”

Gregory took the antibiotic out and gave a pill to Mycroft. He then measured out a serving of the cough syrup. “This will help you rest, and you’ll be feeling much better when you wake up,” Gregory said.

Mycroft made a face at the taste of the cough syrup. “That is revolting!” He coughed again, reaching for the tea on the nightstand.

Gregory laughed. Anthea looked amused from behind her mobile.

“Sir, I will be downstairs if there is anything you need.”

“Thag you Anthea. You do not need to stay too buch longer. Once everything from today is wrabbed up, you cad go hobe.”

Anthea nodded. “Very well sir. I hope you’re feeling better soon.” She turned and left with a brief nod at Gregory.

Mycroft sipped the hot tea; it was soothing and warm, as was the presence of his lover next to him. He sank back into Gregory’s arms, craving the warm.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Mycroft said. He put his tea down and sneezed harshly.

Mmmmpftishooo! INGHtishhhooo! INGHtishhh! Tishoooo!

“God bless you again, love.”

“Thag you, Gregory. I’b sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love.” Gregory looked over at Mycroft. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes standing out so much more now as he was so pale and wan.

Mycroft yawned. The cough syrup was doing its job.

Gregory pulled Mycroft toward him, spooning him up and pulled the duvet up over them both. His paperwork could wait, he thought.

“Sleep, love. I’ll be right here with you.”

Mycroft, warm now, surrendered to the pull of sleep.

And another one: completely unrelated, just more warm Mystrade fuzzies.

207. fragrant

It was late afternoon and Lestrade was exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time when he had been so bloody tired. He had been sent on a two-day workshop by the Yard, and despite the fact he hadn’t changed time zones he was feeling rather zombie-like.

He had a headache and the hayfever symptoms he was still rather unused to, were making him feel itchy-eyed, congested, and sluggish. Perhaps it was the change to BST, he thought wearily, as he sat at his desk at New Scotland Yard. He stared at the piles of paperwork and sighed.

He was so exhausted in fact, that at lunchtime, he shut and locked his door, and took a nap on the couch in his office. He was debating a third cup of substandard NSY coffee, when there was a brief knock at his door. Mycroft Holmes walked in carrying two cups of strong, fragrant coffee.

Lestrade smiled broadly. “You are an angel,” he said.

Mycroft returned the smile and crossed over to where his Gregory was sitting. “I thought you could use this,” he said. He leaned over the desk and gave his lover a kiss.

Mycroft handed Gregory his coffee, and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. He studied Gregory intently, as he sipped his coffee. Gregory looked exhausted; the circles under his eyes were darker and more pronounced and his eyes were red rimmed and irritated looking.

They chatted amicably about their days; Gregory more than Mycroft of course. Most of it was about the pile of paperwork that seemed to be even more never-ending after his two days away.

Gregory was complaining about how he felt like he had signed his name a hundred times that day, when his nose prickled. He turned to the side away from Mycroft and sneezed harshly into his fist.

Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Huhhrahhhshhh! RahhhTISHshhhooo!

“My goodness, Gregory. God bless you!” Mycroft pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to his betrothed. “Here.”

Gregory nodded and took the proffered cloth, his breath hitching erratically still. His eyes were watering as he waited for release, borrowed handkerchief at the ready.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

“God bless you again, dearest heart.” Mycroft looked concerned.

Gregory was worn out from that bout of sneezing. He blew his nose, wincing at the congestion. “I’b sorry, love. Thag you.”

Mycroft winced at the congestion in Gregory's voice. “You are most welcome, Gregory. Are you feeling unwell?”

Gregory wiped his nose and took another sip of the delicious coffee. “I don’t know why, but I am just utterly exhausted today. The hayfever feels a bit more bothersome as well.” He rubbed his eyes.

Mycroft frowned. “Perhaps you should call it a day, Gregory?”

Gregory sighed. It wasn’t like the paperwork was going to go anywhere.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Mycroft smiled. “Of course I am.”

Gregory gave him a wry smile, stood up and put on his suit jacket, pausing to sneeze again.

Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

“God bless you!”

Gregory held up a hand, he wasn't quite done, and grabbed for the handkerchief he’d shoved into his pocket.

Huhhrahhhshhh! RahhhTISHshhh!

“God bless you again, Gregory. Let’s get you home. A nice hot bath and an extra antishitimine I think will be helpful,” Mycroft said.

Gregory sniffled and nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the building, Mycroft’s hand steady on his back. Sometimes it was nice to have a partner who knew what it was like to go through this, and knew exactly what he needed.

[squealofapproval]

Be my Romeo Mycroft.

[Spoo]

My heart is positively aching for sick!Mycroft. The poor thing! I had bronchitis back in January, and it was such an AWFUL experience. It felt like jagged pieces of glass were exploding in my lungs whenever I coughed. Ugh. So glad he has Greg to take care of him.

[cally]

Be my Romeo Mycroft.

My heart is positively aching for sick!Mycroft. The poor thing! I had bronchitis back in January, and it was such an AWFUL experience. It felt like jagged pieces of glass were exploding in my lungs whenever I coughed. Ugh. So glad he has Greg to take care of him.

Perhaps I should write one more instalment then?

This is for AngelEyes, per one of her requests for a sneezy!John at a crime scene and an annoyed Sherlock who has to put a stop to it.

208. crime scene

It was early in the morning when Lestrade called Sherlock and John to a crime scene. So early, that John had yet to have any tea, which put him in a bit of a mood. He was a man of habit, and liked to wake up with a cup of tea and the paper, not be dragged to crime scenes by his hyperactive flatmate/friend/partner/whatever who probably hadn’t slept in three days. (Of course deep down, he loved it just as much as Sherlock.)

What was really bothering him right now, was the fact that he had been on the precipice of a particularly nasty sneeze for ages. He was standing as patiently as possible (well as patiently as one who had Sherlock Holmes for a flatmate and for someone who was fighting off a sneeze) waiting for Sherlock to finish examining the body. Lestrade was pacing back and forth in the long abandoned flat where squatters had found the body. Dust motes hung heavy in the air. You could see them where the faint sun shone through the cracks in the ancient blinds hanging in the window. Well, that explains the desire to sneeze, John thought.

He rubbed his nose, attempting to alleviate the newly persistent tickle, and that did it.

Hi-etcssshhhh! Hi-etcssshhhh!

John quickly smothered the sneezes into the sleeve of his jacket.

“God bless you!” Lestrade looked over at John, surprised.

John was about to thank the detective inspector when the need to sneeze built again. John quickly turned away.

Hi-etcssshhhh! Hi-etcsssx! Hi-etcssshhhooo! Heh-chooo!

Lestrade crossed over to John. “God bless you again! Are you ok, John?” He took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to him.

“Thags Greg,” John said accepting the cloth and blowing his nose. “Sorry.”

Sherlock finally looked up. “Do you two mind?”

Lestrade stared at him. John rolled his eyes.

“I’m trying to solve a murder for you Lestrade, the least you can do is shut up. You too, John.”

“Sherlock.” John said. The tone in his voice was rich with displeasure.

Sherlock ignored him, taking out his magnifying glass to better study the victims hands.

Lestrade ran a hand through his luscious silver locks and wished he was still in bed. He crossed his arms, and waited impatiently.

John sniffed, and then realised that was the worst idea he had had all morning. He held the handkerchief up to his nose and sneezed rapidly and harshly into its folds.

Hi-hhhh-etcssshhhh! Hi-etcsssx! Hgnxt! Hgnxt! Hgnxt! Hi-etcssshhhhooo!

“God bless you, John! Seriously mate, are you ok?” Lestrade looked concerned.

Sherlock huffed. “Of course he is not ok. No one who sneezes twelve times in less than five minutes is ‘ok’, as you so aptly well put it.” Sherlock’s voice was scathing.

John was about to tell Sherlock to shut up before Lestrade revoked his crime scene privileges. Instead, he succumbed to another bout of sneezing.

Hgnxt! Hgnxt! Hi-etcssshhhh!

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sherlock said. He snapped off the latex gloves and strode over to John. Just as John was about to surrender to another sneeze, Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. John immediately relaxed.

Sherlock kept the pressure on for a minute, watching John, but John could tell that his mind was racing, analysing, deducing.

And then he let go.

Sherlock immediately turned to Lestrade who had an incredulous look on his face and explained who the killer was and where she could be found.

Sherlock preened and turned the collar of his coat up. “Come along, John,” he said as he strode off out of the flat and into the sunshine. John looked at Lestrade and shrugged, and quickly caught up to Sherlock.

John was about to ask what had just gone on back there, when the sneeze that had been building before finally made its presence known.

Heh-heh-hhh-hi-etcssshhhhooo!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said quietly.

John looked over at him. “Thanks.”

Sherlock nodded at him.

They arrived at the top of the street and Sherlock expertly hailed a cab, per usual. They settled in after giving Baker Street as the address.

John sniffed experimentally. Still a bit ticklish, he thought as he rubbed his nose. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“You were being irritating. I needed to think.”

John rolled his eyes.

Sherlock looked over at him briefly, and then fumbled about in the pockets of his Belstaff. “Here.” He handed John a crumpled handkerchief.

John gave Sherlock a confused look, until the faint tickle in his nose began to build again. Of course he knows I’m going to sneeze, he thought.

Hi-etcssshhhh! Hi-etcSHHHHhoooo!

John sneezed into the second borrowed cloth and then blew his nose. At last, the tickle had gone.

“Bless you, John,” Sherlock said.

John smiled. “Thank you.”

[squealofapproval]

Guh. That was wonderful Poor John.

[cally]

Guh. That was wonderful Poor John.

Thank you. Poor John, indeed.

Apparently this is torture Mycroft week. :/

209. change

In hindsight, Mycroft probably only woke up due to the number of cups of tea he had consumed throughout the day. Gregory was no longer in bed, but given the warmth of the space next to him, he had not been gone for long.

Mycroft sat up, and felt the congestion shift in his sinuses. He winced at the pressure change. He reached for the glass of water and took a sip before swinging his legs out from under the duvet. He stood carefully, stretching, and made his way to the bathroom.

As he made his way back to bed, he was overcome with a painful bout of coughing. He felt like his lungs were going to collapse on themselves.

Gregory came back in with a bowl of soup and winced at the sound of Mycroft’s cough. “Oh, love.”

Mycroft continued to cough for a moment, and then was finally able to get a sip of water down. He took a breath, and sat down on the bed.

Gregory handed him the bowl of soup. “How are you feeling?”

Mycroft sniffed. “Tired, codgested. Thag you for the soup.”

Gregory smiled. “Eat that, and you can have some more cough syrup and get back to sleep. Do you need anything else?”

Mycroft shook his head and began to eat his soup. After a few mouthfuls, he had to stop to blow his nose; the heat and the steam loosening the congestion in his sinuses. This in turn, triggered a series of painful and messy sounding sneezes.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhhooo! INGHtishhh!

“God bless you, love.”

“Tha-ah heh thag you.”

Mycroft’s nose twitched again, the bridge crinkling up. His breath hitched and he sneezed again.

Ah-heh-Tishoooo! Mmmmpftish! Mmmmpftishooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you again, love.”

Mycroft made a face of distaste. “Thag you, Gregory,” he said and turned back to his soup.

Gregory fretted. He hated seeing Mycroft so ill. He hated that he could do nothing at all.

Mycroft reached over and took Gregory’s hand. “Stop worrying.”

Gregory managed a weak smile in response.

210. sleeping

Mycroft finished the soup and climbed back under the duvet. Gregory gave him another dose of cough syrup, which he made a face at, but took it all the same. It tasted awful, but it was keeping him from coughing as much.

He settled back on to the pillows and felt Gregory’s arm come around him protectively. “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“I want to. Once you’re sleeping comfortably I’ll bring my paperwork up here in case you need anything.”

Mycroft intertwined their fingers. “You are far too good to me, Gregory.”

Gregory kissed him on the back of the neck. “I love you; it’s not a bother.”

Mycroft sniffed, and then sniffed again.

“All right, love,” Gregory asked.

Mycroft nodded, but Gregory wasn’t convinced. He sat up and reached over for one of the handkerchiefs, placing it in Mycroft’s reach.

Gregory made himself comfortable again and began to run his fingers soothingly through Mycroft’s soft hair. He felt the younger man relax against him.

A few minutes passed and Mycroft sniffled and shuddered. He grabbed the handkerchief and sneezed harshly into its soft folds.

Mmmmpftishooo! MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhhooo! INGHtishhh! Ishoooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you, love,” Gregory said quietly.

Mycroft sniffled and let out a painful, barking cough. “Thag you, dearest,” he croaked out.

Gregory winced at the cough. He hoped the medicine took effect soon.

Mycroft's breathing had just got back under control, when he was overcome with another set of sneezes.

INGHtishhhooo! INGHtishhh! Ishoooo! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“Oh love. God bless you again!”

“Thag you, dearest heart.” Mycroft sighed and yawned. He was hardly able to keep his eyes open at this point. Gregory rubbed his back soothingly, and he fell back into a drugged sleep.

[AngelEyes]

OMG! OMG! You wrote it for me!!! Giddily dances around the room!!!! I love it!!!! I'll come back and gush some more but my internet is down so I'm doing this on my phone. Couldn't resist waiting to tell you you are awesomeness!!! One quick thought, Greg hands him a handkerchief. Planted I assume by Mycroft? Squeeee!!!!! Much loves!!!!

[cally]

OMG! OMG! You wrote it for me!!! Giddily dances around the room!!!! I love it!!!! I'll come back and gush some more but my internet is down so I'm doing this on my phone. Couldn't resist waiting to tell you you are awesomeness!!! One quick thought, Greg hands him a handkerchief. Planted I assume by Mycroft? Squeeee!!!!! Much loves!!!!

I am so glad you liked!

It can be taken how ever you'd like! It could have been planted by Mycroft, or since he now has hayfever himself has one with him. Or he could be the older gentleman type who thinks it's an appropriate thing to carry with him. Any number of scenarios can play out and how ever you'd like them to be!

[cally]

I have some serious Mystrade feels right now and I've just eaten like an entire bag of mini-eggs. Please forgive me for my moody fic.

211. tears

Gregory came home in the early morning hours, exhausted. He’d been working on a very disturbing case all day, one that even the great Sherlock Holmes couldn’t help on. The entire thing was upsetting and stressful and all Gregory wanted to do was curl up with Mycroft and sleep.

He quietly entered their bedroom and made his way into the en suite. There was no way he was getting into their bed without having taken a shower; he needed to wash the day off him; he needed the water to cleanse him. He wanted to be whole again, and after what he had seen that day, he wasn’t sure he would be again.

He stood under the hot water for as long as he could stand. He dried off, pulled on his pajamas, and slipped into bed next to Mycroft.

Mycroft stirred slightly, but not enough to wake. Gregory pulled him close to him and held him tight. That’s when the tears finally came. He was so exhausted, however, that he was asleep very nearly at the same time.

Gregory woke with a shout two hours later, as the early morning light was filtering under the heavy curtains. Mycroft woke this time and saw the look of anguish on his lovers face. He didn’t need to know the how or the why, he just knew. And he pulled Gregory to him and held him close and tight.

Gregory wept. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried so hard. Mycroft never once let him go; he murmured quiet words and rubbed his back, and never, ever let go.

Finally, Gregory was worn out, spent from the long day before; worn out from crying his heart out. He tried to sniff and couldn’t. Mycroft gave him a sympathetic smile and reached over for the tissues. By the time Mycroft turned back around to hand them to Gregory, the expression on his face had changed.

Gregory eagerly accepted the tissues, his breath was hitching now and he sneezed rather messily (due to the congestion from crying) into them.

Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Huhhrahhhshhh! RahhhTISHshhh!

“God bless you, dearest heart.” Mycroft reached over to grab the box of tissues, putting them next to Gregory.

“Thag you,” he said congestedly. “I’b sorry.” Gregory gave a sort of sob-hiccup at that point and tried to blow his nose.

“It’s fine. I’m here,” Mycroft said. He took a tissue and dried Gregory’s eyes, wiping his face, and then his nose.

The feather-light touch quickly set Gregory off sneezing again. He was barely able to avoid sneezing on Mycroft.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Rahhhshhhooo! Rahhhtishshhhooo!

“God bless you again, Gregory!”

"Thag you. I'b sorry, love." He made some attempt to wipe at Mycroft's arm and then at his own face and nose.

Mycroft kissed his forehead and moved to get out of bed. “I will be right back, dearest.”

He returned a moment later with a handkerchief, a glass of water, and an antihistamine. “Here, dearest heart. You probably did not have time to think about this at all today.”

Gregory gave him a weak smile. “Thanks,” he said softly. He took the pill and then blew his nose one last time.

They settled back under the duvet and this time Mycroft pulled Gregory to him and held him close until long after the sun came up and the lingering images of nightmares had faded.

[cally]

212. cover

When Mycroft woke up fully, it was midday. He was feeling a little better, which wasn’t really saying much. Gregory brought him soup and tea, but Mycroft got him to hold off on the cough syrup for a little bit. He wanted to get up and take a bath and change, and he did not want to do that half conscious.

After eating, Mycroft managed to get himself into the bath without coughing up either of his lungs. Gregory, of course, refused to allow him to be on his own, and climbed into the tub behind him.

“Gregory, my dear, I am perfectly capable of bathing myself.”

“I know you are, but what kind of partner would I be, if I left you all alone?”

Mycroft huffed, but he was secretly pleased. Mycroft soaked in the hot water, while Gregory rubbed his neck and shoulders. It was heaven.

They stayed like that until the water began to cool, and then Mycroft drained a little water, and added some more from the hot tap.

The heat and steam from the water eventually caused Mycroft’s nose to run. He sniffled several times. He had no desire to move from the warmth and his partners embrace and ministrations. He took his hand out of the water and rubbed his nose in annoyance.

Gregory chuckled and pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s neck. “All right, love?”

“Mmmmmmm.” Mycroft sniffed again. Now his nose was absolutely ticklish. He rubbed it again, which just only made the tickle flare even more. He sniffled, trying to ward off the sneezes building.

Gregory reached over for the handkerchief he had brought in for this very reason and covered Mycroft’s nose with it, given that one of his hands was dry and Mycroft’s were not.

MmmmINGHtighsh! INGHtishhh! Mmmmpftish! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you, love.”

Gregory softly wiped his lovers nose.

“Apologies. You did not have to do that, Gregory,” Mycroft said, embarrassed.

Gregory smiled. “It’s fine, love. Now let’s get you dried off and back into bed.”

Mycroft nodded and the two of them climbed out of the tub and into soft, warm towels. Mycroft shivered a bit, and immediately reached for the handkerchief, and was bent double by the sheer force of the sneezes.

Ahhh-heh-Tishoooo! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmmpftishooo! Mmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you again, love!”

Mycroft meant to answer, but only managed some sort of coughing sound instead and nodded his thanks.

Gregory frowned. “More medicine and bed for you, love.”

Mycroft had no choice but to reluctantly agree.

[cally]

213. click

Sherlock was not feeling well. He wasn’t one to get ill easily or frequently, but today he knew he was coming down with a cold.

He was alone in the flat; John was at work or with one of his insufferable girlfriends or at the shops. He was freezing. He was actually close to going and finding one of John’s horrid jumpers- he was that cold.

He pulled his dressing gown tight around him and waited for the kettle to boil. He suppressed a shudder and then cupped his hands around his nose as he built up to a sneeze.

HngISHxt!

He sniffed as the kettle clicked off.

There was another clicking sound, and Sherlock whirled around. Mycroft was standing in the kitchen doorway.

“God bless you, brother dear. My, you must be feeling unwell if you did not hear me come in.”

“Ugh. Piss off, Mycroft.” He sniffled wetly and poured hot water over his teabag, not bothering to offer a cup to Mycroft.

Sherlock put the kettle back down quickly and turned away, cupping his hands over his nose again.

HngISHxt! Hngxt! Hngxt! Hngxissshh!

He sniffled again, and rubbed his nose along the sleeve of his dressing gown. Mycroft made a face of utter distaste, and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to his brother.

“God bless you again, brother mine.” He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sneezed harshly into the luxurious cloth from his brother.

Hngxissshh!

“God bless you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock reluctantly blew his nose.

He nodded at Mycroft. “Thags.”

“What d’you want adyways?” Sherlock asked his brother congestedly.

“Oh, nothing really. Just passing the time. I thought I would stop in; make sure the flat was still standing.” Mycroft swung his umbrella between his fingers.

Sherlock picked up his tea and headed out into the sitting room, and flung himself into his chair, coughing.

Mycroft followed, and stood before him, frowning. Neither of them were partial to displays of brotherly compassion, but something pulled at Mycroft seeing Sherlock looking so rumpled and miserable.

Several congested sneezes from Sherlock broke him out of his reverie.

Hngxissshh! HngISHxt! Hngxt! Hngxissshh!

“Goodness, Sherlock! God bless you!”

Sherlock blew his nose with annoyance.

“Thags. Now, if you don’t have adything to say, thed go away and leave me to die in peace."

"Very well, Sherlock. I do hope you feel better."

Sherlock didn't bother to reply.

An hour later when a courier was by with a container of hot soup, a box of tea, and a package of handkerchiefs, a hint of a smile ghosted across Sherlock's lips.

[squealofapproval]

OMG like his umbrella I can't And guh Sherlock (don't) stop sneezing

[cally]

OMG like his umbrella I can't And guh Sherlock (don't) stop sneezing

Poor Sherlock isn't a happy consulting detective.

214. boring

Sherlock ate the soup for lack of anything else to do. It was hot and fragrant and warmed him thoroughly. He sat sidewise in his chair, legs over the side and pondered, or tried to. He hated being sick, he couldn’t think properly.

He wiped his nose on one of the fancy handkerchiefs Mycroft had sent over and contemplated shooting the ceiling.

Luckily for the ceiling, John chose that moment to come home.

Sherlock chose that moment to sneeze messily into the folds of the handkerchief he was holding.

Hngxissshh! HngISHxt! Hngxt! Hngxissshh!

“Ugh. Dyig,” he said sniffling.

“Bless you,” John said, looking at Sherlock. “You look terrible.”

Sherlock made a non-amused face and sneezed again.

Hngxissshh! HngISHxt!

“Bless you!”

Sherlock tried to sniffle, but was too congested and had to settle for blowing his nose.

“Did you take anything, Sherlock?”

“No. Medicide is boridg.”

John rolled his eyes. “While it may be, if you had you might be able to breathe through your nose.”

“Ugh. Breathing’s boridg.”

“Right,” John said, annoyed. He went upstairs and came back down a few moments later with a packet of cold medicine. He popped two pills out and handed them to Sherlock. “Here.”

“D’want any.” Sherlock turned away in a sulk, or at least tried to. Before he could fully turn away, he sneezed wetly, pretty much rendering the handkerchief useless.

Hngxissshh! HngISHxt! Hngxt! Hngxissshhooo! Hngxissshhooo! Hngxissshhooo!

“Bless you again!”

Sherlock sighed, unable to breathe. “Thag you,” he said as he sat up and grabbed another handkerchief from the stack and blew his nose.

John winced. It looked like he was going to have to bargain to get Sherlock to do anything.

“Sherlock, you really do sound awful. If you take the medicine, I won’t complain about body parts in the fridge for a week.”

Sherlock perked up a bit.

“Two.”

John sighed. “Fine. Just take the damned pills.”

Sherlock nodded. “Tea?”

John chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll make you some tea.”

[squealofapproval]

"Medicine is boring."

AMEN SHERLOCK!!

[AngelEyes]

Brotherly Mycroft. Gah!!! Just had a random insight. Referring to Sherlock as "Brother, mine." is another sign of Mycroft taking ownership over everything, being in charge and on top. Even his little brother. Sorry. Musings. I just Squee their relationship!!!

And John bribing Sherlock. I love it. It seems so plausible! I can just picture the look on his face as he ponders through the offer then the looks between them as they bargain. Perfect!

[matilda3948]

Aww....the poor Holmes boys just can't seem to catch a break How very lucky for us

The last Mycroft illness arc was really, really exceptional.

[cally]

"Medicine is boring."

AMEN SHERLOCK!!

LOL!

Brotherly Mycroft. Gah!!! Just had a random insight. Referring to Sherlock as "Brother, mine." is another sign of Mycroft taking ownership over everything, being in charge and on top. Even his little brother. Sorry. Musings. I just Squee their relationship!!!

And John bribing Sherlock. I love it. It seems so plausible! I can just picture the look on his face as he ponders through the offer then the looks between them as they bargain. Perfect!

Mycroft is a bit of a control freak, isn't he?

John has to do what he has to do.

Aww....the poor Holmes boys just can't seem to catch a break How very lucky for us

The last Mycroft illness arc was really, really exceptional.

We are lucky, aren't we?

Awwwww thank you!

Here's another random, sort of how we met and got together bit of Mystrade (with hopefully a second part soon).

215. knock

Gregory had a bit of a cold. He’d been sneezing off and on all day; he didn’t feel terrible, just a bit congested and sneezy. He was in his office attempting to get some paperwork done, when there was a knock at his door. Mycroft Holmes calmly walked in, umbrella on his arm, and carrying two coffees.

Gregory had met Mycroft a few times; he knew he was Sherlock’s brother and that he worked in the “government.” Neither of those things explained what he was doing in his office with coffee.

“Ah, Detective Inspector. I thought I might have a word. I took the liberty of bringing you a coffee.”

“Uhhh thanks, Mr. Holmes. Is there a problem? Is it Sherlock?”

Gregory took a sip of the coffee. It was just as he liked it; it was perfect.

“Please, call me Mycroft. There is no problem. I just wanted to make sure that Sherlock has been behaving.”

“Sherlock’s been, well . . .Sherlock. He’s rude and callous and ahhh heh ‘scuse me. . . ” Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

Gregory sniffed. “Sorry! He’s been rude, but he knows what he’s talking about.”

“God bless you, detective inspector.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

Gregory blushed slightly under the scrutiny. “Thank you. And it’s Greg, please.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose before succumbing to another pair of sneezes.

Hhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

“God bless you, Gregory. Are you all right?” Mycroft gave him a sympathetic, concerned look.

“Thanks. I’m fine, just a bit of a cold. Anyways, Sherlock has been helpful, but a bit of an acquired taste, you know? He doesn’t get along with a lot of people, does he? I mean he is a right tosser, but he’s bloody brilliant; a genius. He’s been invaluable in helping us with several cases.” He sniffled and ran a finger under his nose.

Mycroft smiled. “That is good to hear. I am glad that he has been able to be of assistance to you. I do worry about him and I hope that he has been productive, even if he is a bit non-conventional, so to speak.”

Gregory quickly turned to the side, cupping his hands over his nose.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Hhhshhngxtishh!

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

“My goodness! God bless you, Gregory.” Mycroft reached into his pocket and pulled out a gray silk handkerchief. “Here, please,” he said.

Gregory smiled weakly. “Thank you.” He blew his nose gingerly.

“Perhaps I should let you get home and tend to that cold, Gregory.”

Gregory chuckled. “I’m fine, no need to worry,” he said with a smile. He thought for a second and took a chance.

“But, if you’re so concerned about my well-being you’re welcome to join me for dinner. I was just planning on making a risotto, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Mycroft blinked in surprise; that was an offer he was not expecting. He thought about it for a moment, and too decided to take a chance. “I think that would be delightful. Shall we, Gregory?” Mycroft stood up bracing his umbrella in his hand.

Gregory stood up and grabbed his jacket. As they headed toward the door, Gregory paused to sneeze a pair of ticklish sneezes into the crook of his arm.

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Hhhshhngxtishh!

Mycroft turned to look at him. “God bless you again,” he said.

Gregory smiled. “Thanks. Sorry.”

Mycroft led the way out to his car and they were quickly on their way to Gregory’s flat.

They amicably chatted about inconsequential things as the driver made his way through the evening London traffic. Mycroft was offering his opinion about the best wine to accompany the risotto, when Gregory’s nose twitched, and he quickly turned away from the British government.

Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

When he had recovered, he pulled the handkerchief Mycroft had given him from his pocket and wiped his nose.

“God bless you, Gregory. Are you quite sure you are up to this?”

“Thank you. I feel fine, actually.”

Mycroft gave him a look.

“Honestly, Mycroft. I do feel fine.” Gregory smiled at him and Mycroft relaxed, just a little bit.

[squealofapproval]

Awwh, their meeting! I can picture the loving look in their eyes. <3

[cally]

Awwh, their meeting! I can picture the loving look in their eyes. <3

216. wine

As they walked up to Gregory’s door, Mycroft expertly stifled a sneeze. He was hoping that his antihistamine would have continued to work throughout the evening. He hated trying to explain it, which is why he tended not to. He hoped that the sneeze was a one off.

Gregory tossed his coat on to the couch and rolled up his sleeves. He washed his hands and immediately got started on dinner. He told Mycroft to make himself at home. Mycroft took off his suit jacket and sat in the kitchen while Gregory worked. He offered his services in assisting but the offer was declined. “I enjoy it. It helps me unwind,” Gregory said. He sniffled and rubbed his nose against his shoulder.

For some reason Mycroft found the action endearing and he smiled at Gregory. Then, there was a knock at the door. Gregory looked startled, and Mycroft said that he would get it.

He came back a moment later with the wine he had been talking about in the car, perfectly chilled. Gregory smiled broadly. “Wow, Mycroft. That’s bloody brilliant!”

“Shall I?” Mycroft gestured to the wine. Gregory nodded and gestured to the drawer. Mycroft pulled out the corkscrew and opened the wine. There were two glasses on the counter, and Mycroft poured the wine.

Gregory stopped chopping vegetables long enough to take a sip of the wine. “This is delicious, thank you Mycroft.”

“It was no trouble, Gregory.”

Gregory began sautéing vegetables and cooking the risotto. The kitchen was soon filled with heavenly smells of vegetables and spices. Mycroft sniffed and his nose twitched. The spices were just enough to set his sensitive nose off.

Mycroft took a step away from the counter and turned away and sneezed into the crook of his right arm.

Mmmmpftish! Mmmmpftish!

Gregory turned and looked over at Mycroft. “God bless! You all right?”

“Apologies, Gregory. Are you sure there is nothing I can help with?”

Gregory mixed the vegetables with the rice. “Nothing to do now. Just need to stir it a bit and it should be done in about 20 minutes.” He sat down at the table, and Mycroft moved and sat opposite him.

The bridge of Mycroft’s nose crinkled and he gave it a quick rub. This did nothing to alleviate the building tickle, and Mycroft quickly turned to the side and sneezed.

Mmmmpftish! Mmmmpftish!

“God bless you, Mycroft!” Gregory looked at him, concern filling his brown eyes.

“Apologies, Gregory. And thank you.”

“Are you ok? I know I didn’t give you my cold,” Gregory said with a bemused chuckle.

Mycroft sniffed and nodded. He debated how much he was going to share with the detective inspector. Something certainly was causing the two of them to connect. He decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Since I was a child I’ve suffered from rather terrible hay fever. It’s manageable but spring can be a difficult time.” Mycroft paused and rubbed his nose again.

“I’m sorry,” Gregory said. “That sounds awful.” He reached over and covered Mycroft’s hand with his own.

Mycroft hoped he didn’t imagine the spark that flooded through him when Gregory touched him. “It was most unpleasant when I was younger. Now that I have adequate medication and better control, it has not been as troubling.”

Gregory gave him a sympathetic look, which quickly turned into a pair ticklish sneezes.

Heh-Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh!

Gregory blushed. “Sorry,” he said.

Mycroft squeezed his hand. “God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thank you. I, I should check on dinner," Gregory said.

[AngelEyes]

Lovely. Lovely. As always!

[cally]

Lovely. Lovely. As always!

awww thank you

217. rice

“Gregory?” Mycroft ran his thumb across the top of Gregory’s hand. Gregory looked up at him, pupils blown wide in his brown eyes, nearly making the brown invisible.

“Would you like some more wine?” Mycroft asked.

“Yeah,” Gregory said and got up to serve the risotto. Mycroft refilled their glasses.

He came a moment later with 2 plates of the fragrant rice. The two quietly began to eat, the tension between them still heated. They each exchanged covert glances when the other wasn’t looking.

Mycroft put his fork down. “This is delicious, Gregory. Thank you.”

Gregory smiled. “It’s not much, I know. But I don’t often have the chance to cook for anyone.” He paused and rubbed the end of his nose with his index finger.

They continued to eat, chatting about nothing of consequence until they were finished. Gregory took their plates and put them in the sink to soak. He went to turn to ask Mycroft if he wanted tea or coffee, but instead ended up overcome with a massive sneezing fit, pulling the handkerchief that Mycroft had given him earlier from his pocket.

Rahhhshhngxtishh! HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Hhhshhngxtishh!

HhhhhuhhraGHNTshh! Huhhrahhhshhhooo! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!

Mycroft stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “My goodness, Gregory! God bless you! Are you sure that you are well?”

Gregory wiped his nose and turned to face Mycroft. “Thank you. Sorry about that. Not sure what came over me there.” He smiled at Mycroft.

Mycroft took a hesitant step closer, his hand still on Gregory’s shoulder. Gregory instinctively licked his lips. Mycroft moved closer and brought his other hand up to Gregory’s face, caressing it lightly.

Gregory moved closer, until his nose was nearly touching Mycroft’s. “You know,” he said, “if we do this, you’re going to catch my cold.”

“I will take that chance, Gregory,” Mycroft said and closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a kiss.