Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[cally]

Let's catch up with Sherlock and John, shall we?

(@Super awko- I'm all about Sherlock/John)

11. Headache

Sherlock finally relented and went to bed. He was bored and cranky, so John gave him some cold medicine and told him to stop whinging.

After Sherlock had left, John cleaned up the tea mugs and settled back on the couch. He wasn’t tired yet and decided to watch some more telly. At some point he must have dozed off, because he woke with a start when he heard Sherlock calling his name.

Sherlock woke up after a few hours of fitful dozing. His head was splitting and he was fighting off the need to sneeze, worried about how it would hurt his head even more.

“John? JAWN?!”

Sherlock was about to call for John again, when a bleary-eyed and rumpled John Watson appeared in his bedroom.

“Sherlock? What’s wrong?”

“My head John, my head is what is wrong. I’m in agony! Do something!”

John turned on the light next to the bed, so he could get a read on Sherlock. Of course, the light only served to aggravate Sherlock’s terribly tickly nose.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtsh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtsh!

“Oh for God’s sake!”

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh!

“Bless you, Sherlock. Let me look at you. On a scale of 1-10 how bad is the headache?” John ran his fingers across Sherlock’s head, gently assessing.

“46.“

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock huffed in response. “Fine, a 7, if you must insist on putting a number on it. Can’t you just make it stop? My head, my temples, my sinuses are throbbing.” Sherlock sniffled wetly and reached for the tissues. He dabbed gently at his nose, not wanting to irritate it any further.

12. Cool

John sighed, concerned that Sherlock was becoming more ill. He put his hand on Sherlock’s forehead and found it to be cool to the touch, so no fever.

“Does anything else hurt?”

“Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! N-n-n-no. Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Unless you count my nose,” he replied with a sniff.

“Bless you. Let me get you something for your head, ok?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for, doctor.” He flopped back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine.” John stormed out of the room.

John went into the other room, fetched a glass of water and some Paracetemol with codeine for Sherlock. He figured it would help the pain, and might have the added benefit of knocking him out and shutting him up. He knew that Sherlock wasn't feeling well, but John wished that he wouldn’t act like such a cock.

When John returned a few moments later, he found Sherlock sitting up again, head in his hands.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hngxtshoo!

“Bless you again.”

John put the glass and pills down on the nightstand.

“There you go. Good night,” he said abruptly.

As he turned to go, Sherlock grabbed his hand.

“John.”

John turned and looked at Sherlock, unable to read his face.

Sherlock sniffed. “Thank you, John. I’m sorry I was rude before. I didn’t mean . . .” His voice trailed off, unsure what to say.

John was shocked at the courtesy and the apology (and the touch, a part of him thought) and felt his anger wash away.

13. Slumber

“Sherlock, I know it’s not your fault. I know you’re feeling miserable.”

Sherlock seemed to coincide this statement with a pair of perfectly timed sneezes.

Hngxtshoo! Hngxtsh! Sherlock quickly turned away from John, grabbing for the tissues.

“Bless you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock mumbled a quiet thanks around his attempt at gingerly blowing his nose. He tossed the tissues away and reached for the pills John had left. He downed them with the water.

It was only then that they both realised that Sherlock hadn’t let John’s hand go. There was a bit of awkward hand movements and John turned to go once again.

“Good night, Sherlock. I hope the medicine helps.”

Sherlock grabbed John’s hand again. “John. Would you stay?”

John stopped and stared at Sherlock, mouth agape.

“My head really does hurt. Please. Stay.” Sherlock attempted to look as pathetic as possible; pouting, and succumbing to another sneeze.

Hngxtsh!

“Bless. Ok, I’ll stay.” John clumsily got into bed next to Sherlock, who immediately made himself as comfortable as he could, angling his head towards John in the hopes the doctor might see fit to rub his head.

John chuckled. “Sherlock, if you wanted me to rub your head, you could have just asked.”

Sherlock just sniffled in response and contorted himself so that John had both hands available.

John ran his fingers though Sherlock’s wild curls, focusing on the temples, rubbing gently, and applying pressure where he felt any lingering tension. Eventually the touch, combined with the painkiller lulled Sherlock into slumber.

[VoOs]

Are you trying to kill me with all this cuteness, is that it? >:C

( )

[AngelEyes]

“John? JAWN?!”

I love how you wrote this! I can totally hear his inflection! Yay for Sherlock drabbles! And Mycroft! I adore sneezy!Mycroft. So Yay!!

[cally]

Are you trying to kill me with all this cuteness, is that it? >:C

( )

Yes. Yes, I am.

[cally]

“John? JAWN?!”

I love how you wrote this! I can totally hear his inflection! Yay for Sherlock drabbles! And Mycroft! I adore sneezy!Mycroft. So Yay!!

Thank you. Shall we return to the British government and his detective inspector?

14. Nap

After a short nap, and not even a restful one at that, Mycroft wakes first. His first thought is that he is warm, very warm. With a detective inspector cuddled under him, and the heavy duvet on top, it’s no wonder. His second thought is that he is going to sneeze, and his third is that he doesn’t want to wake Gregory, who has also fallen asleep.

He manages to sit up without waking the sleeping inspector, and silently stifles the first sneeze. His nose is itching and buzzing, and if he could see himself, he would see that his nose was pink and twitching, practically of its own accord.

He pulls out his handkerchief and waits for the onslaught of sneezes to breach his beleaguered nose.

Hhh-hh-Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch.

Mycroft tries to stay as still as possible as the fit overcomes him, but inevitably Lestrade wakes while Mycroft is in the midst of trying to muffle the assault of ridiculously ticklish cold sneezes.

Mycroft feels Gregory’s hands coming up to his shoulders, steadying him through what feels like a never ending fit of sneezes that Mycroft feels he no longer can control.

Mycroft can hear Lestrade murmuring what he thinks is “bless you,” but is helpless to respond.

Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

“Christ, Mycroft! God bless you!” Lestrade is now wide-awake and concern is practically pouring from his deep brown eyes.

“Thag you Gregory. Apologies.” Mycroft turned his head and blew his nose carefully, not wanting to set off another set of sneezes. His handkerchief was rather useless at this point, and turned to reach for the tissues.

Lestrade smiled and handed the British government the box. “Here, love. Let me get you some cold medicine and soup. You sound like you could use it.”

15. Steam

Lestrade extracted himself from the bed and padded off down the hall to the kitchen. He prepared two trays of soup and tea and fetched the box of cold medicine for Mycroft.

While he was doing all of that, Mycroft disposed of the used tissues and fetched a clean handkerchief. He put an extra one on the nightstand by the bed. He also used the time to stretch the kink out in his neck; unsure if it was caused by the odd way in which he fell asleep, or the fit of sneezes that he had just succumbed to.

He rubbed his nose and sniffed experimentally. This was a mistake, he found.

Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch. Mmmmpfch!

Mycroft rolled his eyes in exasperation. This was starting to become rather infuriating. He had work that needed to be done this weekend, which he hadn’t told Gregory. He usually waited until the inspector was long asleep before he slipped out of bed to attend to any matters of state, but if this sneezing kept up, he’d never stand a chance of him going unnoticed.

“Bless you,” Gregory said as he came into the bedroom with the tray of soup and tea for Mycroft.

“Thank you once again Gregory. Please tell me we are not eating in here, it’s most unhygienic. Shall we head into the sitting room?”

Gregory took one look at Mycroft’s face and decided that tonight was not a time to make any unnecessary demands on him. He nodded and led the way down the hall to the sitting room. Once he got Mycroft settled with his soup, he returned to the kitchen to fetch his own.

Gregory came back in and got himself settled next to Mycroft on the couch. He noticed that the pills had been taken, and smiled.

The two sat in companionable silence, enjoying the fruits of Lestrade’s labour of love for a few moments. Lestrade was on his second or third mouthful, when his nose began to run. And tickle. The tickle that had set him off earlier had returned with a vengeance, set off by the heady steam of the delicious chicken soup.

He had just enough time to swallow his mouthful and put his spoon down.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!!

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!! Huhhrahhhshhhooo!!

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!! HuhhrahhhshhhOOOO!!

The loud fit of sneezes bent him forward, as he sneezed harshly into his hands, cupped around his nose and mouth, just in time.

Just as he thought he was done-

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!! HuhhrahhhshhhOOOO!!

He felt something being pressed into his hands; Mycroft’s soft handkerchief. He grabbed it like a lifeline and pressed it to his nose as he was nearly bent over double again by another pair of sneezes.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!! HuhhrahhhshhhOOOO!!

Finally the tickle had abated and he realised that Mycroft was sitting there with a look of utmost concern on his face; his hand resting on Gregory’s back, rubbing softly.

“My goodness Gregory. God bless you! I feel that statement does not do justice to that performance, but I am for once at a loss for words. Are you quite alright?”

Gregory nodded and blew his nose softly, not wanting to risk another occurrence like that again quite so soon. “I feel perfectly fine. I just seem to have the sneezes still. Bloody sneezy cold.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Quite,” he replied.

[tma]

AWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just. TOO. Sweet.

Can I tell you how just *beyond* adorable I find the second one in particular. Mycroft with the handkerchief- just perfect!

and this:

Finally the tickle had abated and he realised that Mycroft was sitting there with a look of utmost concern on his face; his hand resting on Gregory’s back, rubbing softly.

“My goodness Gregory. God bless you! I feel that statement does not do justice to that performance, but I am for once at a loss for words. Are you quite alright?

Just melted me into a puddle of goo.

[cally]

AWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just. TOO. Sweet.

Can I tell you how just *beyond* adorable I find the second one in particular. Mycroft with the handkerchief- just perfect!

and this:

Finally the tickle had abated and he realised that Mycroft was sitting there with a look of utmost concern on his face; his hand resting on Gregory’s back, rubbing softly.

“My goodness Gregory. God bless you! I feel that statement does not do justice to that performance, but I am for once at a loss for words. Are you quite alright?

Just melted me into a puddle of goo.

AWWW. Thank you. Thank you so much.

And thank you everyone who has commented, even if I've missed directly replying.

While I was out today, for some reason this one came to me- poor allergic Sherlock.

16. Interlude

Adrenaline was coursing through Sherlock’s veins. He wasn’t sure it was enough to alleviate the inevitable, however. He ran swiftly down London streets, his long coat flapping behind him. He briefly wondered if it was possible to sneeze and run at the same time. He was quite sure he was soon to find out.

Hngxtsh! Hngxtsh!

Two quick sneezes (so, yes it was possible to run and sneeze simultaneously) and a quick glance behind him to see if he was being pursued (he wasn’t). He was close to his rendezvous point with John and was grateful of the fact. His eyes and nose were streaming now; brought on by whatever allergen he had come into contact within the suspect’s home. He would need to take inventory from within his mind palace when he was safe.

John stood in the alley waiting impatiently. He hated when Sherlock left him on the sidelines, but in this case it was prudent to have one of them be behind in case of ambush. He paced and checked his mobile once again. Nothing.

Granted, he was glad for the interlude; after the past few days of scouring the city he could use the downtime. Finally, he heard rapid footsteps approaching; Sherlock.

John was relieved to see Sherlock in one piece and from a cursory glance, unharmed. What he was not expecting to see was the detective with allergic tears coursing down his face, his nose running freely.

Sherlock came to a halt in front of John. He was panting, out of breath. He put on hand on the brick wall to steady himself while he attempted to catch his breath. He had managed to hold back the inevitable allergic fit for this long as well, and now that he was out of danger, he finally allowed himself to succumb to the inevitable.

Hngxtsh! Hngxtsh! Hngxtsh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hngxtshoo!

He grabbed on to John’s shoulder with his other hand to steady himself, as the force of the sneezes bent him nearly double.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hngxtshoo! Hngxtsh! Hngxtsh! Hngxtshoo!

John pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it into the hand Sherlock had on his shoulder. Sherlock nodded gratefully and used it to wipe his eyes and then his nose. Finally, when the sneezes stopped, he blew his nose furiously, trying to flush the tickle. However, this served no purpose other than causing more sneezes.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hngxtshoo!

“Jesus, Sherlock! Bless you! What happened to you? Are you ok?”

Sherlock nodded and wiped his nose. “Apparently there was something in the suspect’s flat that I am clearly rather allergic to. From my recollection, his wife recently had a floral delivery; I’ll need to go back into my mind palace to retrieve the necessary details as it wasn’t prudent to stick around after incapacitating him.”

“Yes, I can see that,” John replied.

He watched in amazement as Sherlock panned through his thoughts from the past hour or so. He was always in awe as Sherlock did this and even more amazed when he was able to have such amazing recall.

“John, there were three types of flowers in the arrangement; orchids, lilies, and peonies. I suggest visiting a florist in the morning so I can test out which of the three I appear to be allergic to,” Sherlock deduced.

However, the very thought of the flowers seemed to bring Sherlock to his senses, as he sneezed- again.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hngxtshoo!

“Bless you again, Sherlock! Perhaps not the in the morning, give yourself a chance to recover, especially with such a severe reaction. Let’s get you back to Baker Street, get some antihistamines in you.”

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! Hngxtsh!

“Ugh, boring.”

“Bless. Well, at the very least you’ll need to text Lestrade with what you’ve found.”

Sherlock dabbed at his nose, gingerly.

Hngxtsh!

“Very Hhh-hh-Hngxtshh! well John, very well.”

“Bless you,” John said again, steering them towards Baker Street, his hand on Sherlock’s back and a look of concern on his face.

Sherlock took all of this in and for once, simply said, “Thank you, John.”

[Spoo]

He felt something being pressed into his hands; Mycroft’s soft handkerchief. He grabbed it like a lifeline and pressed it to his nose as he was nearly bent over double again by another pair of sneezes.

I loved the desperation in his actions. That's always a personal favorite of mine when it comes to scenes like this.

Goodness, these boys are so sneezy! Not that that's a problem, mind you. That's never a problem. Heh. At this rate, though, Greg's bound to sneeze himself hoarse from all of those wonderfully massive nasal explosions. Oh, and I totally giggled at Myc's OCD about eating (or rather not eating) in the bedroom. I can picture him finding a single crumb on the sheets and complaining extensively about it.

Seriously, cally. I love your drabbles (I'm biased with the Mystrade ones, of course, but I doooo enjoy the Johnlock ones as well [even though I never comment too much on them]). Tell you what, if you have any personal requests or things you wanna see, let me write a drabble for you! I'd love to. I'll include whatever theme you want.

[HoneyBunny]

Mmmhhh oh yes I love to see the Holmes boys being tortured. *swoons* Great drabbles!

[cally]

He felt something being pressed into his hands; Mycroft’s soft handkerchief. He grabbed it like a lifeline and pressed it to his nose as he was nearly bent over double again by another pair of sneezes.

I loved the desperation in his actions. That's always a personal favorite of mine when it comes to scenes like this.

Goodness, these boys are so sneezy! Not that that's a problem, mind you. That's never a problem. Heh. At this rate, though, Greg's bound to sneeze himself hoarse from all of those wonderfully massive nasal explosions. Oh, and I totally giggled at Myc's OCD about eating (or rather not eating) in the bedroom. I can picture him finding a single crumb on the sheets and complaining extensively about it.

Seriously, cally. I love your drabbles (I'm biased with the Mystrade ones, of course, but I doooo enjoy the Johnlock ones as well [even though I never comment too much on them]). Tell you what, if you have any personal requests or things you wanna see, let me write a drabble for you! I'd love to. I'll include whatever theme you want.

Well I couldn't *help* but give them a terrible, sneezy cold. Poor lambs. (I'm probably just projecting since I'm hardly ever ill nor sneeze.)

I know what I'd like to see (but can't just quite yet), so I think I would love to see allergy-stricken Mycroft at some sort of state event where he can't afford to show any weakness and Gregory is forced to intervene.

Thank you so much for such lovely comments. All of you here have made the past few days so wonderful for me (I've been having a rubbish few days) and all of the lovely comments have made me feel better. <3

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Oh, God, the allergic!Sherlock one...and the end of that Mystrade one, too....

[cally]

Mmmhhh oh yes I love to see the Holmes boys being tortured. *swoons* Great drabbles!

I am so glad you enjoyed! Thank you!

Oh, God, the allergic!Sherlock one...and the end of that Mystrade one, too....

The allergic one just came to me, out of nowhere! I've been enjoying writing the Mystrade one. They're so different to write, which makes it a challenge, but fun!

[squealofapproval]

I'm definitely in love with your writing, cally. You are just wonderful in every single aspect.

[cally]

Once again, thank you everyone for the kind comments.

17. Reasonable

Lestrade was able to get Mycroft to bed at a reasonable hour with the help of cold medicine and his fingers gently massaging his neck.

When they awoke the next morning, the tickle that had been plaguing Lestrade for what seemed like an eternity had finally dissipated. Mycroft on the other hand was miserable. There were dark circles around his eyes and his nose was pink and irritated looking. By the time Lestrade had brought him a cup of tea, he had already gone through several tissues and one handkerchief trying to clear out his clogged sinuses.

Mycroft accepted the tea gratefully, careful not to let the steam irritate his nose; he had had a frontline seat to what that led to the previous evening when Gregory was eating dinner. He savoured the tea and then dabbed at his nose gingerly. He really was feeling rather poorly, but still had work that needed his attention. He was going to need to show some marked improvement so that Gregory would not mother hen him and allow him to attend to what he needed to do.

First thing would be getting up, getting dressed and carrying on as if he were well. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt the pressure change in his afflicted sinuses and he rubbed his reddened nose gingerly. He paused before beginning his ministrations, and rubbed his sinuses, trying to ease the pressure.

He silently stifled a sneeze, not wanting to attract any attention.

Mycroft rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom. As he was about to head out into the hallway, Gregory thwarted him.

“Where do you think you’re off to,” Lestrade questioned, eyebrows raised.

18. Office

Mycroft attempted a snort, but due to the congestion, it came out rather blocked. “Gregory, I rather thought I would use the bathroom for its intended purpose,” he said.

Gregory smiled. “You wouldn’t be trying to go into the office, now would you?”

“Well Gregory, there are things that need my attention today and as you can see I am quite well,” Mycroft said, trying to not let any hint of the congestion betray him, nor the tickle that had begun to build again within his nose.

Gregory smirked. “I may not be a Holmes, but even I can tell when I’m being bullshitted. Love, you look terrible. You’re congested, exhausted, and you look as if you’re about to sneeze.”

“Gregory, I assure you that I am well, well enough to carry out my responsibilities,” he said with a sniffle, trying not to let the quiver in his voice betray him. Mycroft sniffed again and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to delay the inevitable.

Gregory leaned against the wall. “Yes, you clearly look in perfect health,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Gregory, I. . .” Mmmmpfch! “Excuse me.” Mycroft was about to continue speaking, but realised it was futile. He rolled his eyes.

Mmmmpfch! Mmmmpfch! His eyes met Gregory’s before he launched into another set of sneezes.

Mmmmpfch! Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

“Bless you, love. Here, he said gently.” Lestrade handed Mycroft a handkerchief, which was gratefully accepted.

“Thank Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo you, Gregory.”

19. Pressure

“Bless you,” Lestrade said.

Mycroft sniffed, dabbed his nose, and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Gregory. Now, if you do not mind, there are things that I must attend to.”

“As a matter of fact, I do mind, love. You’re sick. You need rest. I’ve already texted Anthea. She’s assured me that there is nothing that can’t wait a day or two, until you are feeling better.”

“Gregory . . .,” Mycroft started, furious.

“No, Mycroft. Do you remember the last time you were ill? You ended up with bronchitis, because you didn’t stop to rest or take care of yourself. So please, for me, just rest for today.”

Mycroft sighed and sneezed. Mmmmpfch! This caused him to wince.

“Ahhh-Very hhh-well.”

Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

Mycroft didn’t bother to try to muffle the sneezes into his handkerchief; the pressure in his sinuses was too much to bear at this point.

Lestrade gently reached out and pushed a lock of hair back off Mycroft’s forehead. “Bless you, love. Now, let’s get you something for your sinuses, eh?”

Mycroft nodded and moved to pass Gregory who looked at him questioningly. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he said moving toward the bathroom.

Gregory allowed him to pass and went to find some Sudafed.

20. Output

Sherlock woke up a few hours later with the most horrid congestion he could ever remember experiencing. His nose was completely blocked. He tried to sniffle, and was unable to. He also really, really needed to pee. He made a mental note to do an experiment on the amount of tea consumed and the amount of urine output experienced.

He moved to get up and found that he was trapped. By John Watson. He had briefly forgotten that he had asked John to stay with him last night and somewhere along the way John had fallen asleep and curled himself around Sherlock.

Sherlock tried to extract himself, without waking John, which was easier said than done. On top of it all, his nose was beginning to tickle.

Luckily for him, John began to stir and rolled over, freeing Sherlock. Sherlock reached for the tissues, right before a painful sneeze wracked his body.

Hngxtshoo!

As Sherlock padded from the room, he heard John mumble a sleepy “bless you.”

21. Awful

Sherlock returned a few moments later, and found John mostly awake.

“Ok?” John asked, concerned.

Sherlock nodded. “A bid too buch tea lasd nigdt.”

John chuckled. “You sound awful, Sherlock.”

Sherlock huffed in response. “ I ab aware how I soubd, Johd.”

Hngxtshoo! Hngxtshoo! Hngxtshoo!

Sherlock reached for the tissues.

“Bless you,” John said.

Sherlock nodded his thanks as he futilely tried to blow his nose.

John winced in sympathy. “I know you’re feeling miserable, but can you tell me what's the worst and then I can get you some medicine.”

“By head still hurds and I obviously cabdt breathe throudgh by nose.”

John sat up, stretched and glanced at his watch. 4am. He got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Sherlock nodded and got back into bed. He dabbed at his nose with a tissue. It was all he could really do. He was both congested and also felt that his nose was running all at the same time. It was all very unpleasant.

He made a futile attempt at sniffling, which only caused him to sneeze again.

Hhh-hh-Hngxtshhi! Hhh-hh-Hngxtshoo!

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed.

“Bless you,” John said as he came back into the room. “Here, take these, hopefully they will help.”

Sherlock nodded and accepted the pills and water. “Thadk you, John.”

“Try and get some more sleep, ok?”

“John?”

“Yeah, Sherlock,” John replied, yawning.

“Stay.”

[Spoo]

Poor pitiful Mycroft! Ughhh. Sinus pressure is the absolute worst. I just want to cuddle him (even though I know that would never happen, haha). He belongs to Greg! I love how sickly and poorly you wrote him; it appeals to my hurt/comfort addiction. Hopefully the medicine will relieve some of that achy-ness so he can have a nice, cozy sleep.

[AngelEyes]

I was going to quote some of my favorite lines but I couldn't narrow it down so I'll just say you're brilliant. I love it!

[squealofapproval]

Awww

[cally]

Poor pitiful Mycroft! Ughhh. Sinus pressure is the absolute worst. I just want to cuddle him (even though I know that would never happen, haha). He belongs to Greg! I love how sickly and poorly you wrote him; it appeals to my hurt/comfort addiction. Hopefully the medicine will relieve some of that achy-ness so he can have a nice, cozy sleep.

Well, let's see if Lestrade can give him some comfort.

I was going to quote some of my favorite lines but I couldn't narrow it down so I'll just say you're brilliant. I love it!

Awwww. Thank you!

Awww

22. Logical

An hour later Mycroft is sitting in the sitting room, head in his hands. Despite the Sudafed that Gregory had fetched, his sinuses were aching and his head throbbing. He pushed his thumbs into his sinuses, rubbing in circles trying to do anything to alleviate the pressure.

Gregory came in with mugs of tea for the both of them and found Mycroft in that position, practically curled in on himself. At first he thought Mycroft was crying, as absurd as it sounded as his shoulders were trembling.

Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

Clearly, there had been a more logical cause, Lestrade thought.

“God bless,” Gregory said, his voice filled with concern.

Mycroft sat up, sniffling wetly. “Thank you, Gregory,” he said and accepted the mug of tea. “I daresay you were right about not working today. I am unsure as to whether not I would be hh-able to heh concentrate –ah apologies ah hhh Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!” Mycroft was able to get to his handkerchief just in time, sneezing violently into its soft folds.

“Bless you again!”

Mycroft sniffed weakly. “Thag you, Gregory.”

23. Tense

Lestrade sat down next to Mycroft. “Ok, this is what I want you to do. Lay down and put your head in my lap.”

Mycroft wiped his nose. He looked skeptical but agreed and positioned himself so that his head was in Gregory’s lap.

“I’m going to rub your temples and sinuses. Hopefully it will help; now don’t go sneezing on me,” he teased.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and gave Lestrade a look of utmost distaste and didn’t bother to dignify him with a response.

Lestrade began to softly rub circles around Mycroft’s temples; alarmed at the tension he found there. “Christ, Myc! You’re so bloody tense!”

Mycroft sniffed weakly and relaxed into the gentle touch. “I assure you that with these ministrations I am assuredly not tense.”

[cally]

24. Eyes

It was early spring, and Sherlock and John found themselves outside of London on a case. For once, it wasn’t raining and the sunshine gave a promise of warmer days ahead.

It was mid-morning and the two were sitting outside at a café going over the evidence, and enjoying coffee. Well, Sherlock was enjoying his coffee. John, on the other hand, was feeling a bit out of sorts. He dabbed at his eyes with a napkin, and attempted to continue to listen to Sherlock’s long-winded diatribe about the idiocy of the person who had committed the murder.

“John? John? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

“What?”

“My point exactly.”

John sighed. “Sherlock . . .,” he began but was interrupted as he was overcome by a fit of sneezes. itschiew! itschiew! Kistchiew! Ah-kishiew! Ah-hi-kitcshiew!

Sherlock handed John a napkin, which was gratefully accepted.

“Based on the pitch of your sneeze John, it is obvious that you are allergic to something. Given the location that we are in and the time of year, it is logical to deduce that the culprit is the birch tree. You should probably pick up something at the chemist to alleviate your symptoms.”

John stared at Sherlock, blinked and sneezed again. Ah-kishiew! Ah-hi-kitcshiew! itschiew!

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know Sherlock, normal people just say ‘bless you.’

Sherlock smiled, that genuine smile he saved for only John. “John, you of all people know that I am not as you say, ‘normal.’” He paused, studying John for a moment. Sherlock then picked up his coffee cup and drained the remainder. “Bless you, he said quietly.”

John looked up and sneezed harshly. Itschiew!

“Thadks. Can be go find the chebist now?”

Sherlock nodded and rose from the table. “I don’t see why not, seeing as I’ve already solved two cases this morning,” he said with a grin.

25. cement

Mycroft enjoyed the head and sinus massage tremendously. Despite the fact that it felt like there was cement trapped in his sinus cavity, he felt like the congestion was loosening up a little bit. While this was a good thing, it was also leading to the inevitable necessity.

He finally put his hands over Gregory’s and held them steady as he sat up. Gregory looked confused, but quickly realised why Mycroft had but a stop to his ministrations. Mycroft pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and held it over his twitching pink nose, breath hitching.

Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Those two sneezes were extremely powerful and just as messy. Mycroft blew his nose furiously after the pair of sneezes, hoping to alleviate as much congestion that had been trapped as possible.

In between blows, two more sneezes escaped; just as messy as the first pair.

Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo!

“Ugh,” Mycroft said. “How distasteful. My apologies.”

Lestrade refrained from rolling his eyes. “Bless you. Now, while ‘distasteful’ as you say, at least perhaps now you can breathe a bit.”

“I believe I’m going to need another handkerchief or some tissues at this rate,” Mycroft observed still blowing his nose.

Lestrade smiled and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

[cally]

I clearly have a Mystrade problem.

26. ordinary

Lestrade returned a moment later with a fresh handkerchief and a box of tissues. He placed them on the table in front of Mycroft and then went off to make some tea.

Mycroft put the rather damp old handkerchief to the side and reached for the tissue box. He blew his nose again and wiped his eyes. He was rather done being ill, in all honesty. He could handle the sneezing; it was the congestion and sinus pain that was starting to affect him. It was making it hard for him to think clearly, and it was making him feel exhausted. He wondered if this was how ordinary people felt.

Lestrade came back in with steaming mugs of tea and some more Sudafed for Mycroft, for which he was rather glad. He hoped that the combination of the medication along with the sinus massage Gregory had given him would help. Perhaps Gregory could even be persuaded to do it again.

Huhhrahhhshhhooo!!

A loud, powerful sneeze distracted Mycroft from his thoughts. “God bless you Gregory. I thought you were feeling better today?”

Gregory looked sheepishly up from his elbow, where he had directed his harsh sneeze. “I am. Honestly, I feel fine.”

“Mmmmm,” Mycroft said, in disbelief. “I will take your word for it,” he said as he reached for his tea.

27. wink

“You sound a little better,” Gregory said, smiling.

Mycroft smiled in return. “I can breathe a little better, thanks to your massage I believe.”

“Finish your tea, and I will continue. I want you feeling better, love.”

Mycroft smiled. “You wouldn’t have an ulterior motive for this, would you?”

Gregory returned the smile. “Who me,” he said with a wink and a suggestive leer. He leaned over and gave Mycroft a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I really do want you feeling better, and not just for . . . well you know.” Gregory sat down close to Mycroft, their thighs touching.

Mycroft reached out a hand and caressed Gregory’s face. “I know,” he said. He then reached for the Sudafed, took the pills with the remainder of his tea, and settled his head back in Gregory’s lap.

Mycroft relaxed into Lestrade’s touch. It was helping, and the touch was very relaxing. He fell into a tranquil state, very nearly close to falling asleep for some time. Therefore, it came as an embarrassing surprise when he was caught unaware with a fit of ticklish sneezes.

Ha-hah-Hehmmmpftcchhhoo! Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftisha!

Luckily for him, Gregory was ready for such an eventuality, and pressed Mycroft’s handkerchief into his hands.

28. cloth

Mycroft took the cloth eagerly and blew his nose, trying to clear the tickle and the loosened congestion from the massage.

Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftisha!

Mycroft sneezed over and over, exhausted. He blew his nose again and sat back against the couch, drained.

“God bless you, Mycroft!” Gregory studied him with only concern showing on his face.

Mycroft sniffed experimentally and found he was able to breathe even more than before. “Thank you, Gregory. And I must apologise. I hope I didn’t sneeze on you.”

Lestrade reached over and kissed him on the forehead. “You didn’t, love. Can you breathe better now?”

Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded. “I do believe I can, Gregory.”

[Spoo]

I clearly have a Mystrade problem.

Problem? I see no problem.

Your Mystrade drabbles have yet to stop making me feel so darn giddy. They're super sweet and affectionate. Love them so much!

[cally]

I clearly have a Mystrade problem.

Problem? I see no problem.

Your Mystrade drabbles have yet to stop making me feel so darn giddy. They're super sweet and affectionate. Love them so much!

I am so glad. I need to take a step back over the next few days, so I thought I'd spend today enjoying myself.

[AngelEyes]

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know Sherlock, normal people just say ‘bless you.’

Definitely Sherlock, quick to analyze and John to be exasperated with him.

Mycroft put the rather damp old handkerchief to the side and reached for the tissue box. He blew his nose again and wiped his eyes. He was rather done being ill, in all honesty. He could handle the sneezing; it was the congestion and sinus pain that was starting to affect him. It was making it hard for him to think clearly, and it was making him feel exhausted. He wondered if this was how ordinary people felt.

So Mycroft! Lofty above it all attitude. "Ordinary" people. LOL

Me + this thread = happy!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

I have to say, while I'm ordinarily not much of a Mycroft or Mystrade person (as regards the fetish, I mean), I am absolutely in love with the way these two bless each other. All impressed and concerned at the same time. It makes me...

[cally]

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know Sherlock, normal people just say ‘bless you.’

Definitely Sherlock, quick to analyze and John to be exasperated with him.

Mycroft put the rather damp old handkerchief to the side and reached for the tissue box. He blew his nose again and wiped his eyes. He was rather done being ill, in all honesty. He could handle the sneezing; it was the congestion and sinus pain that was starting to affect him. It was making it hard for him to think clearly, and it was making him feel exhausted. He wondered if this was how ordinary people felt.

So Mycroft! Lofty above it all attitude. "Ordinary" people. LOL

Me + this thread = happy!

Thank you!

I have to say, while I'm ordinarily not much of a Mycroft or Mystrade person (as regards the fetish, I mean), I am absolutely in love with the way these two bless each other. All impressed and concerned at the same time. It makes me...

I am so glad you picked up on that. That was my entire reasoning with them; Mycroft being worried but also impressed that Gregory just sneezes without obsessing over tissues and volume and Gregory concerned that Mycroft is going to make his sinus headache worse or something along those lines because he is so damned refined/stuffy 9/10. I didn't know how to do that in body language, so I am really glad it came across in the blessing.