Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[matilda3948]

“Excuse heh me,” he barely managed out before another high-pitched hitching breath that culminated in another set of barely contained sneezes.

Huh’tishhhhngxtsh! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighsh! Heh’mmmmpfTISH’ish! Heh’TISSSHH-ooo!

A soft moan escaped from him after the final sneeze. Gregory bit his lip in worry, and pressed another handful of tissues into Mycroft’s hand. “God bless you,” he said, still rubbing his back.

Mmmm...love this bit so much. Apologetic, sneezy, and tired.

[cally]

Awwwah! I'm so rubbish at commenting, I can't say much because I'm too busy melting into a puddle of happiness <3 I love that Gregory is worried about Mycroft

Awww thank you!

Oh so many lovely stories! Poor Mycroft! I feel his frustration. He can't have any fun without some sort of repercussions. Poor Greg! He should realize everything makes Mycroft sneeze and just roll (have fun) with it. We do!

He probably should!

Have I gone a bit overboard?

Overboard? No. Never. Impossible.

They spent the rest of the film wrapped around each other in the dark, with only the crackling fire and television lighting the dark panelled study.

Awwwww!!!!

He reached out his hand toward Gregory and they headed up to bed, each lost in their own worried thoughts.

More awww.

“Mmmm, in a second. I can think of better things I could be doing,” he added playfully.

Mmmm. Naughty!Greg. My favorite!

Everyone loves naughty!Gregory!

“Excuse heh me,” he barely managed out before another high-pitched hitching breath that culminated in another set of barely contained sneezes.

Huh’tishhhhngxtsh! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighsh! Heh’mmmmpfTISH’ish! Heh’TISSSHH-ooo!

A soft moan escaped from him after the final sneeze. Gregory bit his lip in worry, and pressed another handful of tissues into Mycroft’s hand. “God bless you,” he said, still rubbing his back.

Mmmm...love this bit so much. Apologetic, sneezy, and tired.

It's a lovely trio, isn't it?

This is me, working on my thesis. (no it's not)

186. night

Gregory woke in the middle of the night, unsure as to what woke him. He could hear the rain pelting the windows and he could feel Mycroft’s warm, reassuring presence against his back. Smiling to himself in the darkness, he nestled back into the cocoon of warmth.

Surprisingly, a moment later, his nose gave a fierce tickle. He pressed his head further into the pillow and his wrist up against his nose, attempting to muffle the sneeze as much as possible, not wanting to disturb Mycroft.

HRDSCHHhhh!

“Mmmm. Bless,” Mycroft murmured sleepily. Gregory briefly wondered if his lover was fully awake, before he lurched forward with another sneeze.

Huh’huhrahhhSHHhhh!

More awake now, Mycroft sat up slightly. “God bless.” He reached behind him and plucked a few tissues from the box on the bedside table and pressed them into Gregory’s hand.

“Thanks. Sorry for waking you,” Gregory said, voice thick with sleep, as he swiped at his nose and then reached over to toss the tissue away.

Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pulled Gregory back under the duvet with him. They were just about settled when he felt Gregory shudder next to him.

Huh’etcssSHHhhoo!

“Good heavens, Gregory! God bless you!” Worried, Mycroft repeated his earlier action and fetched his partner another handful of tissues.

While Gregory tended to his nose, Mycroft rubbed his back soothingly. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“Nodding, Gregory tossed away the used tissues. “Thank you,” he murmured unnecessarily.

Mycroft squeezed his bicep and pulled up the duvet over them both, draping his arm protectively over his lover. He listened to Gregory’s breathing even out as he fell back to sleep.

Mycroft lay there awhile, listening to the rain, and wondering what caused Gregory to have such an unprecedented trio of sneezes so late in the night. Finally, lulled by the soothing patter of raindrops and Gregory’s slow, even breaths, he fell asleep, arm still possessively over his sleeping partner.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Sneezing and snuggling. What could be better? Gregory isn't coming down with something is he? Oh darn...

[AngelEyes]

Such lovely late night snuggles. You give me warm fuzzy feels. And potential...

[matilda3948]

New Sherlock drabble from Cally??? Hooray!

[cally]

Sneezing and snuggling. What could be better? Gregory isn't coming down with something is he? Oh darn...

I think that one was pretty standalone. I, of course, reserve the right to come back to it!

Such lovely late night snuggles. You give me warm fuzzy feels. And potential...

Awwwww I know. That one could easily get moved to my other drabble thread.

New Sherlock drabble from Cally??? Hooray!

It had been a some time!

While I am currently not a fan of this day for multiple reasons, (not to mention this never ending lit review) I decided to take out my aggression and stress on Gregory. Poor dear.

187. Valentine’s Day

Attempting not to drown in his own mucous, Gregory sat up in bed with a sigh. He ran a hand over his unshaven face and frowned. The last thing that he wanted was to be stuck in bed with a miserable cold, on Valentine’s Day.

“You know we can go out to dinner another evening, my dear,” Mycroft said, as he entered the room with a cup of tea for his husband.

Gregory smiled. “Ab I thad transbarent?” He asked, accepting the tea and taking a sip. It soothed his ailing throat, and he reached out and squeezed Mycroft’s hand in thanks.

Sniffling from the congestion, and from the ticklish steam, he put his teacup down on the bedside table and snatched a tissue from the box. He could feel a sneeze building up within his ticklish sinuses, and he’d rather not add a lap full of hot tea to the mix. Nostrils flaring, his eyes fluttered shut as he breathed erratically.

Heh . . . . Huh’HRDSCHHhhh!

“God bless,” Mycroft began, before he was cut off by another congested sounding sneeze.

Huh’huhrahhhSHHhhh!

“Good heavens! God bless you again!”

“Thadk you,” Gregory croaked out in between wet, squelching blows.

Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and frowned. He pulled a freshly pressed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Gregory, who nodded appreciatively.

While Gregory continued to tend to his red-rimmed nose, Mycroft pulled a small item from the pocket of his waistcoat.

Gregory eyed him suspiciously. “Thads nod bore awful tasting medicide, is it?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “No, Gregory it is not. Do not be so preposterous,” he added and then handed the small item over.

It was a small chocolate truffle from Fortnum and Mason.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dearest heart.”

Gregory blushed. “I’b sorry. I’b a biserable patient,” he said, sniffling wetly.

Mycroft had the decency to not pull much of a face at the sound.

Gregory turned and opened the bedside table drawer. Rummaging around for a moment, he finally retrieved a small item, wrapped in tissue paper. “I did’t habe time to wrap it properly.” Nervously, he handed it over, and then ran a hand through his silver hair; a sure sign of worry.

Mycroft smiled a genuine smile when he saw what the item was; a small tiepin in the shape of an umbrella.

“Thank you, Gregory. It is more than perfect,” he said before leaning over to kiss Gregory on the cheek.

Seconds later, Gregory was turning away as far as he could before sneezing again, grateful he hadn’t relinquished hold of the handkerchief.

Huh’hhhuhhraGHNTssshhh! Huh’haaarahhhDSCHHHooo!

“God bless you, my dear.” Mycroft rubbed his arm reassuringly while Gregory tended to his nose once more.

“Thags. Sorry,” Gregory added.

“Think nothing of it. Now, please, try and get some rest.”

Gregory nodded and slid back under the duvet.

Mycroft rose from the bed and was about to leave, when Gregory reached out and caught his wrist. “Stay? Please?”

Mycroft smiled. “Of course. Allow me to fetch my briefcase and I will be right back.”

Moments later, Mycroft was carding his fingers through Gregory’s hair as he slept.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

A chocolate from Fortnum and Mason...it has been soooo long. I think you did a wonderful job capturing the angst of VD. The desire to make the perfect gesture for your loved one and it never quite meeting your expectations. (Sick in bed, didn't get present wrapped.) Of course, if your partner really loves you it's only the thought that counts.

[AngelEyes]

Mycroft smiled a genuine smile when he saw what the item was; a small tiepin in the shape of an umbrella.

Squeeeee! I LOVE it!!!!!!!!!!!! Adorable!!!!!!!

[matilda3948]

Your sick!Greg is just the best Poor thing.

Also, head rubs/hair ruffling is the sweetest!

[cally]

A chocolate from Fortnum and Mason...it has been soooo long. I think you did a wonderful job capturing the angst of VD. The desire to make the perfect gesture for your loved one and it never quite meeting your expectations. (Sick in bed, didn't get present wrapped.) Of course, if your partner really loves you it's only the thought that counts.

Aww thanks.

Squeeeee! I LOVE it!!!!!!!!!!!! Adorable!!!!!!!

I thought it was cute too!

Your sick!Greg is just the best Poor thing.

Also, head rubs/hair ruffling is the sweetest!

He was really rather miserable, the poor lamb.

188. crime scene

Mycroft generally didn’t get involved with Gregory’s cases. He left that to Sherlock. But after a week of Gregory being stumped and Sherlock being out of London, he offered his assistance. Assistance that he severely regretted offering, once they entered the basement where the murder occurred.

The scent of rank mould and mildew immediately assaulted Mycroft’s sinuses as they descended down the stairs. Gregory, unfazed as ever, continued on into the room, carrying on his description of the crime that had occurred here.

Mycroft paused, hesitating on the bottom of the staircase, barely daring to take in a breath. One hand gripping the banister, he quickly removed his pristinely pressed handkerchief and pressed it to his now visibly twitching nose.

Gregory was still prattling on about the crime scene; he hadn’t noticed Mycroft hadn’t joined him in the room until a soft, muffled sound came from behind him.

Hngxtissshh! Heh……hhhmmmmpTNSGH!

Gregory turned abruptly. “God bless . . .” he began, but Mycroft’s appearance caught him off guard. His husband’s nostrils were erratically contracting and his breathing was shallow and rapid. Mycroft’s eyes were filled with unshed tears that were about to escape his waterline. Colour was high on his cheeks and an ugly red rash was beginning to escape up over the collar of his shirt.

Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! TNSGH’SHHHH!

Mycroft was unable to speak; clutching the bannister for dear life. “God bless you,” Gregory said, crossing the room in a few long strides.

Mycroft was still unable to respond, so he just nodded, pressing the rapidly dampening handkerchief closer to his nose as he breathed laboriously, gearing up for another batch of punishing, ticklish sneezes.

Hngxtissshh! NG’SHHHHH! TISSSSHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Heh’TISSSSHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“And again,” Gregory said, worried. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He put his hand on the small of Mycroft’s back and led him upstairs, keeping behind him in case he slipped. He could feel Mycroft trembling beneath his large hand, as he tried to keep from dissolving into another fit of sneezes.

Seconds later, they were outside and Mycroft took a deep lungful of fresh, London air, handkerchief still pressed to his long nose. Gregory led his sniffling husband to the car and got him settled before joining him in the drivers seat.

Once seated, Mycroft bent nearly double from the force of the sneezes he had held back on the walk to the car.

Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Heh……hhhmmmmpTNSGH’mpff! INGISHHHHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless you, love,” Gregory said, fretting. He reached over to the glove compartment and rummaged around until he found a travel pack of tissues. He opened them and handed a handful to Mycroft. “Here, take these.”

Once Mycroft had accepted the tissues, Gregory started the car and drove as fast as he could back to the townhouse.

Mycroft was making breathy, snuffling sounds. Out of the corner of his eye, Gregory looked at his lover and husband and chewed his upper lip in worry. He reached over and squeezed Mycroft’s leg reassuringly. “Not long now, ok love?”

Mycroft nodded before succumbing once again, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Hehhhhhh………NNNG’SHHHHH! TISSSSHH! TNSGH’SHHHH! INGISHHHHH! INGISHHHHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless you again.” Gregory risked another glance; the rash on Mycroft’s neck was red and angry looking and Mycroft himself looked as dishevelled as he had ever seen him.

It seemed like an eternity until they arrived back home. Gregory leapt out of the car and hurried over to the passenger side and helped Mycroft out and up to the townhouse.

Gregory led Mycroft up the stairs and to the ensuite. He grabbed a handful of tissues off the box on the counter and pressed them into Mycroft’s hands.

Mycroft nodded again and attempted to blow his nose; hideous squelching sounds emerging. Gregory wordlessly turned the taps of the shower on and began to undress Mycroft. Once Mycroft was undressed, he entered the shower. Gregory quickly removed his own clothing and balled up both sets of clothing and put them in a bin bag to be dealt with later. He then joined Mycroft in the shower.

Gregory squeezed shampoo into his hands and began to lather Mycroft’s short hair. He could feel Mycroft beginning to relax under his ministrations, but then Mycroft was grabbing on to him tightly as he turned his head away quickly.

Heh’mmmpftish! Mmmmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! INGTish! Tish’SNGHISH! Hng’ISSH!

“Christ! God bless you love.” Gregory rubbed Mycroft’s arm reassuringly.

Mycroft rubbed his nose with his wrist, sniffling wetly. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Once Gregory was sure they were clean, Mycroft was led into the bedroom and gently towelled dry and then bundled into a soft robe. The rash had dissipated some, but Gregory was still worried. He retrieved twice the normal amount of antihistamines, a glass of water, a box of tissues, and several handkerchiefs and placed them down next to his lover on the bedside table.

Sniffling, Mycroft downed the pills and then quickly snatched a handkerchief from the table and brought it to his nose.

ING’SHHHHH! ING’MMFPTIGHshhhh! Heh’TISSSSHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless you again, love.” Gregory reached out and wiped a stray tear from Mycroft’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Mycroft said. His voice sounded strained and irritated from the sneezing. “My apologies,” he added quietly.

Gregory snorted. “There’s nothing for you to apologise for. I’m the idiot who brought you to a crime scene that nearly killed you.”

Mycroft looked up from his handkerchief and raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” Gregory said.

Mycroft opened his mouth to retort, but ended up gasping and sneezing instead.

TISSSSHH! TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless you.” He was glad that the number of sneezes was slowing down.

“Thank you, Gregory,” Mycroft mumbled, half-yawning, from the depths of the cloth. When he finished tending to his dripping nose, Gregory could see that it was red and irritated looking.

Gregory moved up the bed and wrapped his arms around Mycroft, pulling his husband closer to him. He then pulled the duvet up over both of them. “Rest, love,” he murmured into Mycroft’s ear, kissing him on the cheek.

Mycroft relaxed in his arms, worn out from sneezing and drowsy from the additional antihistamines. Just before he fell asleep, he nasally croaked out; “it was the sister.”

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Whoa! Next time you bring Mycroft to crime scene bring an inhaler and an epi pen. No wonder he hates leg work! I loved the way Gregory sprang into action. He knew just what to do. Short of having antihistamines in the car, he was ready for it as well. So sweet how wel they know each other.

[cally]

Whoa! Next time you bring Mycroft to crime scene bring an inhaler and an epi pen. No wonder he hates leg work! I loved the way Gregory sprang into action. He knew just what to do. Short of having antihistamines in the car, he was ready for it as well. So sweet how wel they know each other.

It was a very rare occurrence, even for Mycroft. Neither of them could have known it was going to happen, but Gregory is used to dealing with a hay fever ridden Mycroft, so . . . .

189. paperwork

When Mycroft woke up, he was terribly, horrifically congested. He was also alone in bed. This wasn’t surprising; he could hardly expect Gregory to sit and watch him sleep, especially after the information he whispered out before succumbing to the antihistamines.

Blinking groggily, he stood and headed to the ensuite. He was glad to see that the rash had dissipated. He used the restroom, and washed his hands and face, patting down his hair, which had fluffed out in sleep. Tightening his robe around him, he sniffed thickly and grabbing a handkerchief, he headed off to see where Gregory was.

He found Gregory in the kitchen with a pot of coffee, paperwork strewn out across the table. He looked up when he heard Mycroft enter. “Hi love,” he said, smiling.

“Good eveding, Gregory,” he said through the congestion.

Gregory frowned at the sound of his husband’s voice. “Do you want some tea?” He asked, gently.

Mycroft nodded and sat down at the table, while Gregory went through the tea making ritual. Despite the congestion blocking his nose, he could feel a residual tickle building. With a strangled inhale, he snatched the handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his trembling nostrils.

ING’SHHHHH! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH!

Gregory turned sharply at the inhale, concern etched on his face. “God bless you!”

Mycroft could only nod, before curling in on himself a bit more and continuing to sneeze.

Heh’NNNG’SHHHHH! TISSSSHH! TNSGH’SHHHH! INGISHHHHH!

Abandoning the kettle while it boiled, Gregory grabbed a box of tissues from the countertop and set them down in front of Mycroft.

“God bless you again,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be feeling better after you rested,” he added, fretting. Realizing he was scrutinizing Mycroft carefully, he turned away as the kettle clicked off.

“Thag you, Gregory. Apologies,” he said thickly.

Filling the teapot with the hot water, Gregory rolled his eyes. He brought the teapot over to Mycroft along with a cup and saucer and then retrieved a few biscuits. He hoped that he could tempt Mycroft with something as he knew his appetite was quick to suffer when he was feeling congested.

Pouring himself a mug of tea, Mycroft asked how the case was going; a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Better now with your help,” Gregory chuckled. “I’m sorry that you had to suffer.”

“My dear, you had no way of knowing I would have such a reaction. Please do not trouble yourself over it.”

Sniffling more productively due to the papal white-coloured steam rising from his teacup, Mycroft was forced to put said cup down. Snatching a tissue from the box, he dabbed at his sensitive nostrils before succumbing.

Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! TNSGH’SHHHH!

“God bless you, love,” Gregory said, pressing some more tissues into Mycroft’s hand.

Mycroft took a moment to blow his nose. “Thank you, my dear,” he smiled softly at Gregory. He was pleased that he was able to speak more clearly.

Gregory squeezed his hand. “Are you hungry? I can cook something if you want something more substantial than biscuits.”

Mycroft wasn’t hungry. “Biscuits are fine for now,” he said, picking up one and taking a bite.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Lovely follow up. I can't say enough how much I like the way you portray Mycroft and Gregory's symbiotic relationship.

[AngelEyes]

Mycroft relaxed in his arms, worn out from sneezing and drowsy from the additional antihistamines. Just before he fell asleep, he nasally croaked out; “it was the sister.”

Oh Mycroft. Ever the genius even when thoroughly undone.

He used the restroom, and washed his hands and face, patting down his hair, which had fluffed out in sleep.

Fluffy haired Mycroft! Too adorable!!!!

[cally]

Lovely follow up. I can't say enough how much I like the way you portray Mycroft and Gregory's symbiotic relationship.

Thank you!

Fluffy haired Mycroft! Too adorable!!!!

It's my new obsession.

190. Violinist

This piece obviously takes place pre-series. It’s obviously an AU, given what we know about how Lestrade and Sherlock met. I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, since this summer really, and another non-forum piece reminded me of it today.

DI Lestrade had had a long, tiring day. It was freezing outside, and he turned his coat collar up against the bitter wind. Despite his exhaustion, he chose to take the long way home along the Thames.

Shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, he trudged on, keeping his head down. He was so lost in his thoughts that it wasn’t until he heard the unmistakable sound of a violin that he became aware of his surroundings again.

A tall young man with ridiculous cheekbones was standing in the tunnel walkway. His eyes were closed and he swayed slightly with the heart-breaking tune that was coming from his instrument.

The tune was so mournful and filled with sorrow that he didn’t have the heart to ask him to move on; this was an area where busking wasn’t allowed. Instead, he stood and listened for a few minutes, until the sadness became too much for him to bear, and he quietly walked away, the mournful tune heavy in his heart.

After that evening, Lestrade found himself taking the long way home or driving to the Embankment area more frequently, in hopes that he might hear the violinist again.

It was a few weeks later, when he heard the violin again. It was an inclimate evening, a heavy fog had permeated the city, along with a constant, steady drizzle. The weather didn’t seem to faze the young violinist; he was playing with the same vigour and passion, as he had been the first time the DI had seen him.

Lestrade stood in the shadows, against the wall, and listened. He was lost in the music, same as the musician, until there was an abrupt pause in the melody.

Hngxt!

The young man’s hair was damp from the mist and drizzle; and he was trembling. ‘Some detective,’ Lestrade thought. He hadn’t even noticed, so caught up in the music he had been.

HngISHxt!

Moving out of the shadows, Lestrade approached the violinist. “Bless you,” he offered.

The rain was falling more steadily now, and the young man sniffled, and pushed his hair away from his face. He gave the detective a nod, and began to pack up his violin.

Lestrade moved closer. “Alright, mate? Do you have a place to go?”

The young man smirked. “You assume that because I am busking that I don’t have a place to go, don’t you inspector?” He sniffed and closed and latched the violin case, looking up at Lestrade’s surprised face.

“How did you know that?” Lestrade looked down at himself. It wasn’t as if he was wearing his warrant card.

The young man merely smirked again, but it was short lived. His face went slack and he quickly ducked his head down into the crook of his elbow.

Heh’NGISH! Hngxtsh!

“Bless you,” Lestrade offered again.

This time, the young man mumbled his thanks, sniffling thickly.

The DI grimaced and felt about in the pockets of his coat. He found a crumpled napkin and handed it to the musician. “Here, sounds as if you could use this.” He paused a moment and thought. “Now, do you really have a place to go?”

The young man swiped at his nose and shrugged, mumbling something about there not being any heat.

Frowning, Lestrade looked the young man over. He looked clean and well-groomed, so not homeless. He did look rather damp; he had probably been standing out in the weather for some time.

Heh…….heh…….hhhhngxtsh!

That last sneeze, which was punctuated with a shiver, decided it for him.

“Bless you. Come on; let’s get you somewhere warm and dry, yeah. And then you can tell me why you’re not busking while it’s pissing down.”

The musician looked at him, partially confused and surprised. He stared at him for a moment, and then shivering, nodded and followed him along the path.

Lestrade was glad he had driven today; it was only a few minutes to the car. The walk was quiet, only punctuated with the frequent sounds of the violinist’s sniffles.

When they reached the car, Lestrade let them both in and then immediately turned the heat on high. He then searched the glove compartment for some tissues, finding a crushed travel packet that he passed to the young man.

“Sherlock Holmes” the young man said as if reading the DI’s mind, before he buried his nose in a tissue.

Lestrade raised an eyebrow at the name, but didn’t comment. “Greg Lestrade,” he said, as he flicked the windshield wipers on.

Sherlock studied him for a few moments, tissue still pressed to his nostrils. “Married, but you’ve been separated from your wife for six months. Made detective inspector nine months ago. No kids. You love your job and you had two doughnuts for lunch.”

Lestrade stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “How the hell did you know all that?”

Sherlock gave him a bemused smile. “I merely observe,” he said, sniffling.

Lestrade crossed his arms and glared.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He began to speak at a rapid clip, and Lestrade could hear the congestion starting to build in his voice. “You have a tan line from where you wore your wedding ring. You’ve removed it recently, probably when you realised she wasn’t coming back. The suit is new, but not bespoke; your work keeps you out in the world and you’d rather keep buying new inexpensive ones than have one or two expensive suits. The dark circles under your eyes are from job-related stress, not from children that keep you up at night. And there was a smear of jelly on the napkin you handed me earlier.”

“That doesn’t answer how you knew when I became DI.”

Sherlock grinned impishly. “Thad one was easy,” he said, voice thick with congestion. With a flourish he produced Lestrade’s warrant card.

Lestrade stared until Sherlock broke the silence by sneezing.

HngISHxt! Hng’ISSH!

“Bless you,” he said, head still spinning from what Sherlock had deduced.

Sherlock nodded his thanks and removed some more tissues from the travel packet and buried his nose in them, blowing wetly.

“That was . . . .” Lestrade began as he pulled out into the street.

“Irritating?” Sherlock offered.

“No, well yes,” he chuckled. “Amazing, though,” he added after a moment.

Tissues still pressed against his nose, Sherlock looked quizzically at him. “Most of the time people tell me to piss off,” he said quietly, looking out into the rainy night.

Lestrade threw his head back and laughed.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Hee, hee! Jelly on the napkin from the donuts. Brilliant! I love it when Lestrade comes to Sherlock's rescue.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Ohh! I adored this. I wish I could verbalize everything I love about it, but not only would it be everything, it would be everything together. Pre-John!Sherlock and Papa!Lestrade and deductions and violins and, oh, Sherlock's stifled sneezes...perfection. True perfection.

[AngelEyes]

The rain was falling more steadily now, and the young man sniffled, and pushed his hair away from his face.

Mmmm. Lovely image.

With a flourish he produced Lestrade’s warrant card.

Ha! Because he picks his pocket when he's been annoying....

Tissues still pressed against his nose, Sherlock looked quizzically at him. “Most of the time people tell me to piss off,” he said quietly, looking out into the rainy night.

Lestrade threw his head back and laughed.

I love it!!! I can so see it! LOL!

[cally]

Hee, hee! Jelly on the napkin from the donuts. Brilliant! I love it when Lestrade comes to Sherlock's rescue.

Thank you. All his deductions can't be that hard to figure out!

Ohh! I adored this. I wish I could verbalize everything I love about it, but not only would it be everything, it would be everything together. Pre-John!Sherlock and Papa!Lestrade and deductions and violins and, oh, Sherlock's stifled sneezes...perfection. True perfection.

Why thank you very much. I've got more sniffly Sherlock and papa!Lestrade!

Ha! Because he picks his pocket when he's been annoying....

Yay! Someone got that!

191. takeaway

Gregory’s flat was dark when they arrived; he had forgotten to leave the hall light on. Illuminating the entryway and living room as they entered, Lestrade gasped out a sneeze, hastily covering his nose with a loose fist.

HRDSCHHhhh!

Sherlock didn’t say anything, but he did raise an eyebrow at the older man’s seemingly random outburst. Tucking the information into his mind palace for later use, he followed the DI into the flat, shivering.

“S’cuse me,” Lestrade mumbled. “Let’s see about getting you warm,” he mused out loud. “The bathroom is down the hall if you want to take a hot shower. There are towels in the cupboard in there. I’ll find you something to wear and we can hang your clothes up to dry, alright?”

Sherlock sniffled wetly and headed off down the hallway. After a few moments, Lestrade heard the shower turn on.

Smiling to himself, he headed into his bedroom where he quickly changed into an old Arsenal hoodie and a pair of track pants. He found an old sweatshirt and another pair of track pants and brought them down to the bathroom. The door was ajar, so he slipped in quietly and left the dry clothes by the sink. He could hear Sherlock sniffling, and frowned. He clicked on the heat to take the chill off the flat.

He headed into the kitchen and clicked the kettle on and got some mugs and teabags out of the cabinet. While the kettle was boiling, he found a box of cold medicine and some tissues and brought them into the living room.

Lestrade wasn’t exactly a gourmet cook and relied on takeaway more often than not. Tonight was no exception as he made a call to his favourite Indian restaurant and ordered plenty of food; he wasn’t sure the last time Sherlock had had a hot meal.

The kettle had clicked off and he filled the two mugs with the steaming water. He was about to bring them into the living room when he was startled out of his thoughts by Sherlock coming down the hallway, sneezing harshly.

Heh’NGISH! Hng’ISSH! Hngxtissshh! HhhshHNGXtishh!

“Bless you!”

Sherlock nodded but didn’t move his wrist from where it was pressed to the underside of his nose. Carrying both mugs, Lestrade gestured toward the living room. “Come on. I’ve got tissues and some cold medicine in here for you,” he said. “I’ve ordered a takeaway, I hope you don’t mind curry,” he added.

Breath hitching, Sherlock made a beeline for the tissues. He was barely able to grasp a handful before the new set of ticklish sneezes all but exploded from him. They were thick and heady sounding, and Gregory winced in sympathy.

Heh…….heh…….hhhhngxtsh! Hngxtsh! HngISHxt! AHHngxtshh!

“Christ! Bless you again!” Lestrade said emphatically.

Sherlock grabbed another handful of tissues and blew his nose. In the end it took several handfuls for him to feel like he was able to breathe again. “Thag you,” he said quietly. He looked around for a bin to throw away the pile of tissues he had accumulated. Lestrade jumped up and grabbed a carrier bag and brought it back over to Sherlock. “Here. Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Sherlock shrugged and shivered again. He picked up his mug of tea and wrapped his long hands around it, absorbing its warmth before taking a sip. The curls of steam were immediately irritating and he immediately put the mug down. Sherlock just had enough time to cup his hands around his nose and mouth before another rapid flurry of sneezes burst forth.

Hngxt! Hngxtissshh! Hngxt! Hngxtshi! HhhshHNGXtishh! HngxTISSSSH!

“Bless you!” Lestrade opened the packet of cold medicine and removed two pills from the blister pack. “Hopefully, these will help,” he said.

Sherlock blew his nose again. “Sorry,” he rasped, clearing his throat. Colour was high on his sharp cheekbones and Lestrade wasn’t sure if it was from illness or embarrassment.

Sherlock swallowed down the pills with a slight wince, and then repeated his earlier action with the mug of tea. Sniffing liquidly, he addressed the DI. “You have questions,” he said stuffily.

Gregory was about to respond, when the buzzer to the door went. “Hold that thought,” he said, before getting up to answer

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! I love this one almost as much as the last! Those ticklish, fittish sneezes from Sherlock...mmm. And Lestrade being photic (and Sherlock, even sick, noticing and filing it away): awesome. Plus the details: Lestrade's Arsenal hoodie, the cold pills in their blister pack, etc. They really set the scene, making it very easy to visualize the story.

[cally]

Aw! I love this one almost as much as the last! Those ticklish, fittish sneezes from Sherlock...mmm. And Lestrade being photic (and Sherlock, even sick, noticing and filing it away): awesome. Plus the details: Lestrade's Arsenal hoodie, the cold pills in their blister pack, etc. They really set the scene, making it very easy to visualize the story.

There will be more to this one, including more photic!Lestrade!

This one has been on my mind and I finally got the wording right.

192. The early years

Mycroft Holmes was not easily impressed. That being said, he was very pleased with his new “PA,” Anthea. She had considerable assets in the field and was fluent in several languages. She would hopefully remain in his employment for some time.

Anthea had been with him just a few weeks, when winter began to slowly turn to spring. The days were filled with more sunshine than rain, and the temperatures began to rise steadily. London’s parks were becoming greener, and flowers were beginning to bloom city-wide.

While most people were pleased at the change of seasons, Mycroft was not one of them. He dreaded the onset of spring and with it the unrelenting hay fever from which he suffered. He had managed to keep his “condition” a secret from most everyone he knew; he was able to employ rigorous mental control, alongside his strong antihistamine regimen.

This spring morning however, seemed to be Mycroft’s archenemy. He was dictating some correspondence to Anthea, when his voice began to take on a congested, croaky tone. Apologising profusely, he cleared his throat and began again, only needing to pause a moment later to repeat the process.

Taking a sip of tea, he was most surprised when Anthea spoke out. “Are you unwell, sir?”

His eyes widened at the question. Sniffling delicately, he smiled. “I am fine, Anthea. Thank you for your concern.”

Unfortunately for him, he found it necessary to sniff again, his nose beginning to tickle and drip slightly, a seasonal hazard.

Anthea frowned. “It sounds as if you’re catching cold. Let me get you a tissue,” she said rising to her feet. She quickly headed out to her desk and retrieved a box of tissues, having no way of knowing that Mycroft had his own supply within his desk.

Blushing ever so slightly under the scrutiny, Mycroft accepted the tissues, and dabbed at his long nose with one. The whisper-light touch was too much for his sensitive nostrils, and he quickly turned away from his PA, sneezing into the tissue still clutched in his hand.

Hehhhh…….Mmpfx! Mmmphmfp! Mmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh!

“God bless you, sir,” Anthea said, frowning.

Mycroft was unable to reply, lost within the miasma of ticklish sneezes that showed no sign of slowing down.

Mmmpfx! Mmmpfch! Mmmpfxisssshhhmpf! Ahhhhh….. heh……..Mmmpftinghsh! INGHtighsh! MmmpfTIGisssshh! Huh’Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish!

“God bless you again,” she said, handing Mycroft a handful of tissues.

Mycroft nodded and tended to his dripping and sensitive nose. It took him a moment to pull himself together and clear his sinuses enough so he could speak clearly.

“Thank you, Anthea. My apologies for that interruption,” he said.

Anthea studied her employer a moment. “You aren’t ill,” she finally said.

“No. No, I am not. And I would appreciate if this information remained between you and I.” He paused a moment and then continued. “Ever since I was very young I have suffered from rather unpleasant hay fever. Medication helps some, but in the early spring it is most unpredictable,” Mycroft said with a sniff. “Apart from my immediate family, no one is aware of this. This information is not public knowledge,” he added unnecessarily.

“Yes, sir. Of course. Is there anything that I can do to help? Are there any teas that you find particularly soothing?” Anthea asked.

Mycroft opened his mouth to answer, but found his breath hitching instead. He quickly snatched another handful of tissues, sneezing harshly into them.

Ahhh…heh…MmmpfTIGisssshh! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh! INGTish! INGHtighish! AhhhhTISH!

“Goodness, sir. God bless you!”

“Thank you,” Mycroft finally managed out a moment later, nose still buried within the tissues. “Again, apologies,” he offered. He pondered a moment.

“I am unsure if any particular tea is more soothing than another. However, I would not be opposed to some honey during these months,” he said.

“Of course, sir,” she said rising to her feet. “Let me get you a fresh cup.”

Mycroft nodded as she collected his cup and saucer and left the office.

Once she had gone, he sighed and rubbed at his ticklish nose roughly. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and gave his nose a harsh blow in hopes of eliminating the persistent tickle. Rubbing his head, gave the trees outside a hateful glare before returning to his work.

[AngelEyes]

The origins of Anthea! Ever perfect.

Rubbing his head, gave the trees outside a hateful glare before returning to his work.

I love this image. So Mycroft.

[matilda3948]

These last ones were so fantastic! I always love your stories with Lestrade and Sherlock and you've made me adore Anthea.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Wonderful fics. I like caring Lestrade paired with anybody. And Mycroft being outted. I enjoy stories when one character's allergies are revealed to another. That was quite the set of sneezes too.

[cally]

I love this image. So Mycroft.

So grumpy.

These last ones were so fantastic! I always love your stories with Lestrade and Sherlock and you've made me adore Anthea.

I felt I needed to do something a bit different as I feel I've gotten a bit too formulaic. Thank you.

Wonderful fics. I like caring Lestrade paired with anybody. And Mycroft being outted. I enjoy stories when one character's allergies are revealed to another. That was quite the set of sneezes too.

Mycroft could do little to avoid getting Anthea involved given his condition.

193. sunshine

The next morning dawned bright and clear, a polar opposite to the day before. Lestrade yawned his way through a shower, and then after dressing, made some coffee. Sherlock was still asleep on his couch, looking strangely vulnerable.

He had learned a fair amount about the young man. His brother worked for the government, but was away. Normally he was the one that dealt with things like the heating and the landlord. Sherlock just didn’t seem to care; couldn’t be bothered. He preferred playing the violin to “real work,” and by reading between the lines it seemed that Sherlock actually didn’t need to work.

Lestrade figured it couldn’t hurt to check the heating out for himself; he’d have a look before heading into the Yard. Sipping his coffee, he poured another cup and brought it out to Sherlock. “Rise and shine,” he said.

Sherlock opened an eye, winced, and then promptly shut it again. Lestrade laughed as he headed into the bathroom where he retrieved Sherlock’s now dry clothing. “Here, get a move on if you want me to check your heating.”

Sherlock sat up, blinking wearily. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Then with a strangled breath, he pitched forward, sneezing.

HngISHxt! AHHngxtshh!

“Bless you. Feeling any better?” Lestrade asked gently.

Sherlock grabbed a handful of tissues and tended to his nose for a moment. After, he sniffled experimentally. He thought for a moment, and then nodded. “A bit. Thanks,” he said, quietly. Yawning, he got to his feet and dragged himself and his clothing into the bathroom.

Lestrade chuckled and started tidying up the living room while he waited for Sherlock to dress. A few minutes later, Sherlock joined him. He drained his mug of coffee and then headed towards the door. Lestrade just shook his head, and grabbing his jacket, followed.

Walking outside, Lestrade was immediately stopped in his tracks by a pair of overly harsh sneezes.

HRDSCHHhhh! Huh’huhrahhhSHHhhhooo!

Sherlock turned, staring at him. “Bless,” he mumbled, nearly inaudibly.

“Thanks,” Lestrade said, sniffling thickly. He joined Sherlock and unlocked the car.

Once they were both inside, Sherlock scrutinized him. “You suffer from a photic response,” he said.

Lestrade pulled a face. “A photo what?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “A photic response.” His tone dripped arrogance, conceit, and disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe how stupid Lestrade was. “It means you sneeze when you’re exposed to bright lights or sunshine. It happened last night when you entered your flat and turned the light on, and just now when you walked outside into the sunshine.”

The DI turned to look at Sherlock. In doing so, the sunshine was directly in his face once again, and he had to duck his head down quickly.

Heh . . . . Huh’HRDSCHHhhh!

Sherlock smirked, a smug look on his face.

Lestrade sniffled wetly. “Point taken,” he said dryly.