Cally's Sherlock drabble thread #1 442/442

[AngelEyes]

Love Mycroft insisting on dressing for dinner even at home. So Him!

[Spoo]

*Happily rolls around in domestic!Mystrade feels*

And awwww! Poor Greg feeling self-conscious.

[cally]

Love Mycroft insisting on dressing for dinner even at home. So Him!

So posh of him!

*Happily rolls around in domestic!Mystrade feels*

And awwww! Poor Greg feeling self-conscious.

Domestic situations are so fun!

His poor, loud sneezes just seemed even louder to him in their big, echoey bedroom.

Here are a few more. Thank you once again to Spoo for her assistance in coming up with the idea for #122.

121. row

Mycroft got in the habit of giving Gregory an antihistamine in the evenings, (whether he liked it or not; he was not going to stand to see Gregory suffer even in the slightest) when he took his own evening pill.

By late in the afternoon, Gregory was finding that the pill was wearing off. He didn’t have the heart to tell Mycroft. I mean, it was only a few sneezes; not the end of the world.

His main worry in this was that it would happen when he wasn’t in the office, but rather on a case. Then John would be concerned and Sherlock would roll his eyes. And of course Mycroft would find out about it because Sherlock can’t keep his mouth shut for anything. And the last thing he wanted was a row.

One Saturday afternoon Mycroft was working in his home office. Gregory was stretched out on the leather couch in the office, reading for pleasure for once. He was enjoying a rare weekend without any cases that required his immediate attention. He didn’t mind that Mycroft had work to attend to; he was perfectly happy to read.

He was fully engrossed in his reading when a sudden tickle had him sneezing rapid, ticklish sneezes.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! Ahhhshooo! Ahhkishoo! Ahhkshooo! Ahhhisshooo! Ahhhisshooo! Rahhhhhshooo! Huh-HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! Huh-hhh-heh….

The fit left him sniffly and winded, but it was the last sneeze that had him on the precipice. Allergic tears had gathered at the corner of his eyes and were trickling down his cheeks.

122. help

Mycroft looked up from his paperwork at the first sneeze, and by the sixth he had grown concerned.

“God bless you, Gregory.”

“Thhh-ank you,” Gregory managed to choke out, breath hitching still. He rubbed his ticklish nose, exasperated. He looked up, as if pleading for the light to solve the problem of his desperately needing to sneeze.

Mycroft left his paperwork and joined Gregory on the couch. “Are you quite all right, my dear?”

Gregory shook his head, nose twitching, breath still hitching wildly. The sneeze would still not come. He rubbed his nose again, agitated.

“Please allow me to help you, Gregory.”

Gregory nodded, anything to alleviate this itch, he thought.

Mycroft moved a bit closer to Gregory, and traced his fingernail down the bridge of Gregory’s nose, gently. Gregory’s eyes fluttered shut, and his breath hitched even more, but still no result. He sniffled wetly and dabbed at his nostrils with his handkerchief.

Mycroft tried again, and with a bit more pressure this time ran his fingernail down Gregory’s nose. He then began to trace delicate figure eight’s around Gregory’s pink, twitching nostrils.

That did it. Gregory’s breath hitched for the final time and he turned to the side and sneezed violently, bending at the waist.

Hehhhh-Huh-HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

“My goodness, Gregory. God bless you!”

Gregory blew his nose and wiped away the tears that had leaked from the corners of his eyes. Mycroft waited until he had finished. “Feeling better now?”

Gregory nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He rubbed his nose, sniffling. “Although, I don’t think I care to go through that again.”

Mycroft smiled. “Understandably, my dear." And Mycroft did understand after years of suffering from such horrible allergies.

Gregory was touched by his concern. He kissed Mycroft gently, appreciative.

123. dense

When John and Sherlock woke the next day, John was feeling much better. Sherlock looked better, but John could tell by the lines on his forehead and how his nose would crinkle up that his sinuses were still plaguing him. After breakfast, John set off to get Sherlock a prescription, despite his argument that it would go away on its own. While a man of science, Sherlock could be incredibly dense about matters of health. John told him that he wouldn’t allow him to do any experiments in the kitchen if he didn’t go along with taking care of himself, so Sherlock had no choice but to relent.

When John came back to the flat, Sherlock had showered and dressed; his hair was still damp. He was jumping around excitedly; there was a case! He was putting his coat on when he sneezed in irritation.

Hngxt! Hngxtshoo!

“Bless you! Are you sure you’re well enough, Sherlock?”

“There is a case, John! Nothing else matters; the rest is transport.”

John was all but dragged down the stairs to the street. Before he allowed himself to be manhandled, he gave Sherlock his medication and made sure he had tissues.

Sherlock was greatly disappointed in the case. He solved it in minutes, and gave Lestrade a piece of his mind for calling him on something a trained monkey could have solved. He then stalked off leaving John behind to make apologies, as usual.

“Sorry about that,” John said. “You know how he gets.”

Lestrade laughed. He certainly did. “I’m sorry for calling you out here, I know that he isn’t feeling better yet, is he? He had a fever last night?”

John nodded. “He has a sinus infection, which is probably why he’s so grumpy.”

The two continued to chat, not noticing the black town car pulling up.

124. Trivial

Sherlock stands impatiently, waiting for John to finish his little chat. He is irritated for being called out for something so trivial. His head is hurting even more now. He rubs his nose, irritated and sneezes against his wrist.

Hngxt!

“God bless you, brother mine.” Mycroft has silently appeared, and now stands next to Sherlock.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock scowls at Mycroft, sniffling. He then quickly turns away, sneezing again.

Hngxt! Hngxtishoo!

“God bless you, Sherlock.” He rolls his eyes at Sherlock’s wet and dramatic sniffling and hands him a handkerchief. “Oh for goodness sake, here.”

“Thanks,” Sherlock mumbles and wipes his nose.

Mycroft studies his younger brother for a moment. “Sinus infection,” he asks.

Sherlock nods, sniffling. “You’ve been rubbing your eyes today, they’re all red.”

Mycroft wills himself to not rub his eyes; they were horrifically itchy. “They are a bit irritated today, yes.”

Sherlock was about to continue, but Gregory notices Mycroft’s presence and both he and John walk over to where they are standing.

Gregory is smiling. It’s not every day that the British government takes the time to drop in on a crime scene. Once pleasantries are exchanged, Sherlock all but drags John back to Baker Street, leaving Mycroft and Gregory alone.

“What are you doing here? Not that I mind, of course.

“I simply wanted to see how you were doing.”

Gregory smiles again. “Love, your eyes are all red, are you ok?”

Mycroft nods. “They are just a bit irritated. Nothing to worry about, Gregory,” he says with a slight sniff.

Gregory raises an eyebrow, but lets it go, until Mycroft sneezes.

Hehmmmpftish!

“God bless you!”

“Thank you, Gregory,” he says, sniffling. He rubs his nose.

Gregory may not be a Holmes, but he is a detective. He pulls out his own handkerchief and gives it to his lover. “You gave yours to Sherlock, didn’t you?

Mycroft nodded and accepted the offer from Gregory. “Thank you.” He wipes his nose and sniffs again.

“I do need to be getting on, Gregory. But I did come here to ask if you would like to go to dinner this evening.”

“Of course, I’d like nothing more.” Gregory smiles again, longing to kiss him.

Mycroft smiles in return. “Very good. I will see you this evening. Good afternoon, Gregory.”

[peppercat]

Oooooh you continued! I have this horrible habit of disappearing for weeks on end and I got back and saw this and just <3

[Spoo]

I just love the mental image of Mycroft having red, irritated eyes. Buhhhh.

[cally]

Oooooh you continued! I have this horrible habit of disappearing for weeks on end and I got back and saw this and just <3

Aww thank you!

I just love the mental image of Mycroft having red, irritated eyes. Buhhhh.

I've now passed that family trait along.

(This is the longest drabble ever.)

125. grass

Lestrade was called to a crime scene in the middle of Regent’s park late in the morning. It wasn’t your typical crime scene; generally dead bodies were left in a bit of a lower class of area, not a major tourist attraction and area of recreation for greater London.

He assessed the scene and had the forensics team analysing the site quickly, trying to get as much information as possible in a short of time as possible. Lestrade himself scouted the perimeter; looking for anything out of the ordinary, answering questions, dealing with other officers. Oh, and sneezing.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

He sneezed into his fist, and sniffed wetly.

“Sir?” Sally Donovan briskly walked over, a questioning look on her face.

“Yeah, Donovan?”

“We heard back from the Royal Parks. They said that maintenance occurred starting at half 8 this morning. So the body would have had to be left after that.”

“Great work, thanks.” He paused to sneeze again.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

“Bless you, sir. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. See if you can find out anything about the victim.” Lestrade sniffed wetly and walked away.

When he was able to get far enough away, he was finally able to pull out his handkerchief and blow his nose. This did not serve the purpose he had hoped, it merely triggered more ticklish sneezes.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo!

This was going to be a long day if he couldn’t pull himself together. He carefully blew his nose again, the handkerchief nearly useless now, and checked his text messages, getting the latest updates.

And then he heard a very familiar voice.

“I didn’t expect to be called, but given that it’s practically in my back garden, I figured I could spare a few minutes and help you out, detective inspector.”

Sherlock. Of course. Lestrade stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

Sherlock took one look at Lestrade and immediately knew what was going on.

Lestrade sniffled and wiped his nose again. He attempted to control his breathing but was unable to and succumbed to the re-building tickle in his nose.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

The second sneeze nearly toppled the detective inspector over. Sherlock immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and directed him to a nearby bench.

“Bless you,” Sherlock said quietly and handed him a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” Lestrade said and blew his nose carefully.

“There’s a body, and it was left after the maintenance crew came through at half eight this morning. Don’t know who the poor bugger is yet, though.”

Sherlock nodded and stood up, looking at over where the SOCO’s were working, clearly interested. Lestrade nodded, “Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sherlock was off in an instant, coat billowing behind him despite the relative mild temperatures. Lestrade squared his shoulders and headed off after him.

Five minutes later Lestrade knew that the man had been dumped at 8:45 in the morning, that the actual crime scene was in an alley somewhere in north London, and that the husband of the decedent’s cheating partner did it.

“Quite enough to be going on,” Sherlock said smugly and with a slight sniffle.

Lestrade assigned teams to various parts of the city, pinching the bridge of his nose all the while. When he was done, he found Sherlock was still standing there.

“You should come back to Baker Street with me,” he said.

Lestrade sniffed wetly again. “Why would I do that? I’ve got a murder investigation going on!”

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! SHHhooo!

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Bless you. You’re in the midst of such a terrible allergic reaction, that clearly whatever my brother is giving you isn’t enough right now.” Sherlock paused and rubbed his nose. “I can provide you with an antihistamine and a chance to Hngxt! Hngxt! clean yourself up.” Sherlock barely paused in his speech to sneeze.

“God bless you, Sherlock!”

“Thank you,” he said quietly and then quickly turned and headed off in the direction of Baker Street.

Gregory managed to make it back to Baker Street without any incident, perhaps because he had already had some medication in his system, or perhaps he was just lucky. Sherlock on the other hand, was not.

By the time they had reached the sitting room, Sherlock’s eyes were red rimmed and watering and he was sniffling constantly. He immediately all but pounced on the tissue box.

Hngxt! Hngxt! Hngxt! Hngxtshooo! Hngxtshooo!

He sneezed fiercely into a handful of tissues and blew his nose, sighing.

“Jesus, Sherlock! God bless you!”

Sherlock sniffled and shut his eyes for a moment. “Thag you. Medicide is id the kitchen.”

Lestrade turned and walked into the kitchen, fetching the packet of antihistamines and 2 glasses of water. He passed one of each over to Sherlock.

“Cheers,” he said.

Sherlock looked at him quizzically and then passed him the tissue box.

‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘another Holmes.’

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Bless,” he said.

“Thanks.” Lestrade managed a weak smile. “Will you be ok on your own,” he asked.

Sherlock nodded. “I’ll be fine. Better that was me and not my brother. He’d probably be covered in hives by now, never mind the sneezing.”

Lestrade chuckled. He believed him; Mycroft’s allergies were awful at the best of times.

Sherlock cursed, tipped his head back, and sneezed again.

Hngxtshooo! Hngxtshooo!

“God bless,” Lestrade said. Sherlock waved a hand at him. “Don’t you have a murderer to arrest?

[AngelEyes]

Sherlock looked at him quizzically and then passed him the tissue box.

‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘another Holmes.’

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

I so love the Holmes' anticipating their partners sneezes before they themselves do. *Silly grin*

[ID2006]

Incapable of coherent speech.... runs of til can adequately respond without melting into puddle.

[squealofapproval]

I could say I ship Lestrade/Sherlock too if anything happens in both their relationships so it was nice they had this... Moment. But don't cheat on Myc, Lestrade!

[cally]

I so love the Holmes' anticipating their partners sneezes before they themselves do. *Silly grin*

They can't turn deducing off, even for something so basic.

Incapable of coherent speech.... runs of til can adequately respond without melting into puddle.

Awwww. I am glad you've enjoyed.

I could say I ship Lestrade/Sherlock too if anything happens in both their relationships so it was nice they had this... Moment. But don't cheat on Myc, Lestrade!

No, just simple collaboration on a crime scene, nothing more.

I'm trying to focus on some work here and my eye has been twitching/itching/watering for DAYS now and it's driving me crazy.

126. reports

Mycroft Holmes was miserable. He was sitting in his office attempting to make some headway in the never-ending paperwork and reports that were part of his job of being the British government.

His right eye was twitching and watering; it had been for days at this point. He plucked a tissue from the box on his desk and dabbed his watering eye with it. Sighing, he then balled it up and tossed it into the bin.

He sniffled wetly and placed his head in his hands, frustrated. He barely looked up and sneezed a pair of ticklish sneezes that had become rather "routine."

Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftish!

He rubbed at his nose, exhausted from the strain of the seemingly endless suffering. There was a brief knock at his door, and Anthea entered, as ever on her mobile.

“Sir? We need to leave in ten minutes,” she said.

Mycroft did not reply; his head was tipped back, eyes watering and nose twitching. His breath hitched countless times before the sneezes finally saw fit to expel themselves from the depths his irritated nose.

Anthea finally looked up from her mobile. ‘Oh,’ she thought.

Heh-hhh-heh-Hehmmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

“God bless you, Mr. Holmes!”

“Apologies,” he said and blew his nose, making a face of distaste.

Anthea crossed the room to where Mycroft’s briefcase was. She rifled through it for a moment, took something out, and crossed back to where he was sitting.

“Sir? You will probably need this before we leave.” She handed him a fresh handkerchief and his “emergency” antihistamines.

Before he had a chance to thank her, he succumbed to another bout of sneezing; rapid and ticklish.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

“God bless you again, sir.”

“Apologies, and thank you, Anthea. I see you’ve been in collusion with the detective inspector again,” he said, but his voice though congested was without malice.

Anthea smiled. “Perhaps, sir.

[AngelEyes]

“Apologies, and thank you, Anthea. I see you’ve been in collusion with the detective inspector again,” he said, but his voice though congested was without malice.

Anthea smiled. “Perhaps, sir.

Mmm. Collusion. I like it.

[cally]

Mmm. Collusion. I like it.

Someone needs to take care of Mycroft, sometimes.

127. society

Lestrade was off to a seminar late in the afternoon. It was not exactly how he wanted to spend the last hours of his workday, but it wasn’t one of those things he could get out of, as a detective inspector.

When he got to the room, he found that the heating was still on, despite the heat of the day. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and settled in a chair. After a few minutes he could smell fresh cut grass; someone had opened a window. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the heat of the room or the pollen floating through the open window. He rubbed a knuckle under his nose and prepared to concentrate on the speaker.

He managed to make it until ten minutes before the seminar ended. He was able to manage (somehow) to stifle the sneeze into his fist as quietly as he could; which was a feat.

Rahhhshhngxt!

A few moments later, he repeated the same act, sniffling as quietly as possible after.

Rahhhshhngxt!

‘So much for polite British society,’ he thought. No one gave him a second glance, or a blessing. He smiled to himself thinking that he would have never thought such a thing until he had started in a relationship with Mycroft; epitome of polite and proper British society.

As he left the seminar, he checked his text messages.

God bless you, dearest. -MH

And again, my dear. -MH

128. bath

It was getting late in the evening now, and Mycroft was still working. Gregory had brought him a drink hours ago; it still sits beside him untouched.

Mycroft felt that he was working slower, so much slower nowadays- a result of the hay fever. He sniffed and brought the well-used handkerchief up to his nose for the third time that hour.

Heh-hhh-heh-Hehmmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

Gregory came in moments later, finding Mycroft once again blowing his nose. “I thought that’s what I heard. God bless you, love.”

Mycroft, nose buried in his damp handkerchief gave his thanks.

Gregory crossed the room and took the pen from Mycroft’s hand. “All right, that’s enough. I’m running you a bath.”

129. sad

John cannot ever remember seeing Sherlock so ill. Granted he is much better than in the days before, but he can’t seem to shake the congestion that is plaguing him.

John brings him tea, Sudafed, and painkillers while Sherlock sits on the couch, miserable. Moments later, Sherlock succumbs to a wet, body-bending sneeze.

Hngxtshooo!

“Bless you.”

Sherlock sniffles in response.

John wants to tease him, but can’t bring himself to. He’s too worried. Sherlock looks terrible; he somehow looks thinner than ever- his face gaunt and there are dark circles under his eyes.

John puts a hesitant hand on Sherlock’s knee. “Seriously, Sherlock, you can’t keep on like this. You haven’t recovered because you don’t eat and sleep properly, you know that, right?

Sherlock looks at John; his tired eyes look sad, John thinks.

Sherlock thinks about arguing, but instead nods. He knows John is right- he just hates that he is right.

Sherlock puts his head in his hands and sneezes.

Hngxtshooo! Hngxtshooo! Hngxtshooo!

“Bless you again!”

John feels helpless; he’s a doctor but he can’t do anything, not medically.

“What can I do,” John finally asks.

Sherlock looks up at him; he’s so tired. It looks like tears are swimming in those raging ocean-coloured eyes, John thinks.

“Rub my head, please?”

John nods, knowing it’s the only comfort he can give now. Sherlock curls up on the couch, head in John’s lap. Sherlock sniffles wetly, and a stray tear rolls down his cheek, but John says nothing. He just makes soothing circles and patterns on Sherlock’s scalp, carding his fingers through inky curls.

They sit in the silence.

130. bubbles

Gregory ran a very hot bath for Mycroft. He didn’t think it would ease his hay fever symptoms, but it might help him relax and perhaps he could get some proper rest.

Mycroft got into the hot bath, a bit shocked at the fact that Gregory had added in bubbles, but got in all the same. “Are you going to join me, Gregory?”

Gregory smiled, undressed, and quickly slipped into the bath behind him.

Mycroft reclined back against Gregory’s chest, enjoying the heat of the water; it was soothing, as was the presence of his lover. Gregory began to rub his neck and shoulders, relieving the tension that had built up over the day.

Mycroft nearly fell into a doze for a time, until his nose inevitably began to tickle. He tensed up, and he could feel Gregory applying more pressure to his shoulders, thinking him overwrought. He had no tissue or handkerchief and had no choice but to cup his hands around his nose and sneeze into them.

Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftish! Hehmmmpftishooo! Hehmmmpftishooo!

“God bless you, love! You poor thing.” Gregory nuzzled into the back of Mycroft’s neck and kissed him, trying to offer him as much comfort as he could. “I wish I could take this away from you, love. I hate to see you suffer so.”

“I would not wish this on anyone, Gregory,” Mycroft said, sniffling. He rubbed his nose.

Hehmmmpftishooo! Hehmmmpftishooo!

Mycroft sneezed and shivered, despite the warmth.

“God bless again, love,” Gregory murmured into the back of his neck.

“Thank you, my dear,” Mycroft said, still sniffling nearly constantly.

“All right love, time to get you out of this bath. You clearly need your medication and some tissues.” Gregory kissed him gently, and then helped a sniffly Mycroft out of the bath.

[Tassielli]

Ok so I'm not really a commenter.

I've been following this thread the whole way and I love it. I don't know why I haven't commented on it yet because I check constantly for updates (because you are so frickin' awesome with quick updates and I love you for it)

I finally decided to comment because you seriously deserve so much appreciation for this. You post so often and it's always so good. I love love love reading it.

And oh my god there needs to be more mystrade in the world. Especially on this forum (because sneezy Gregory. Oh my god its my favorite). Thank you so much for everything you write.

And now I'm gonna be a little bit pushy and ask for you to continue making Greg sneezy. I love it when you torture him

[cally]

Ok so I'm not really a commenter.

I've been following this thread the whole way and I love it. I don't know why I haven't commented on it yet because I check constantly for updates (because you are so frickin' awesome with quick updates and I love you for it)

I finally decided to comment because you seriously deserve so much appreciation for this. You post so often and it's always so good. I love love love reading it.

And oh my god there needs to be more mystrade in the world. Especially on this forum (because sneezy Gregory. Oh my god its my favorite). Thank you so much for everything you write.

And now I'm gonna be a little bit pushy and ask for you to continue making Greg sneezy. I love it when you torture him

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much. Thank you for taking the time to leave such a lovely comment. I shall endeavour to continue to torture Gregory.

As a show of faith, I present you this: (way too long and mushy)

131. cement

A few weeks after Gregory started showing symptoms, he began feeling a bit worse. At first he thought he had caught a cold; he was feeling rather miserable.

Eventually, he realised it was just more hay fever symptoms.

It was hard to feel miserable, work for Scotland Yard, and be in a relationship with a Holmes, especially one who was the British government, and one who had a lifetime of experience with hay fever. However, he did his best to keep the additional and somewhat troubling symptoms from Mycroft.

His eyes had begun to itch an awful lot. The pills that Mycroft pressed upon him each evening alleviated most of it, but like the sneezing, by the end of the afternoon, he was getting itchier and itchier, and with increased amounts of sneezing. This in turn wasn’t helping his inflamed sinuses. It felt like someone had packed cement in them, and it seemed that all the sneezing in the world couldn’t loosen the contents deep in the pockets under his eyes.

One afternoon, he had enough, and took his paperwork home with him. This way he could sit in Mycroft’s home office by himself with a box of tissues, and have no one be the wiser. Little did he know that Mycroft had the same idea.

He had just gotten himself settled with a glass of whisky, his files, and a box of tissues, when he began to sneeze, as if on cue.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

He blew his nose and wiped his streaming, itchy eyes and tried to focus on his paperwork. He was able to succeed for a while, but the itching never ceased. It was like having chicken pox as a child, where itching only made it worse. He grabbed a handful of tissues and succumbed to the sneezing; a fit of sneezes that left him bent over, breathless, with his eyes streaming once again.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo! SHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

“My goodness Gregory, God bless you!” Mycroft Holmes was leaning against the doorway, arms folded. He did not look pleased.

“Mycroft. Whad are you doig here?”

“I believe the appropriate response in this situation is ‘thank you.’”

Gregory opened his mouth to respond, but instead had to quickly duck his head, sneezing once again.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

“God bless you again, Gregory.” Mycroft crossed the room to the couch where Gregory had situated himself. He sat down next to him and handed him a crisp and fresh handkerchief. Gregory sometimes wondered where they seemed to appear from.

Gregory took the cloth as if it were a lifeline. “Thag you,” he managed to croak out and blew his nose.

A few minutes later, he was finally able to breathe enough to carry on a conversation.

Mycroft studied him the way Sherlock studied a corpse or a crime scene. It was a bit unnerving. “How long did you plan on keeping this from me?”

“The fact I snuck out early from work?” Gregory tried to make a joke of it.

“Gregory, you know very well what I am talking about.” Mycroft looked worried, but also something else. He looked disappointed.

Gregory sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing, love. Really.”

Mycroft glared at him, his eyes a cool steel grey in the light of the room. “Fourteen sneezes in five minutes is not nothing. The fact that your right eye is twitching like a jackrabbit is not nothing. The fact that it looks like you’ve been weeping is not nothing, Gregory. The dark circles under your eyes are not nothing either for that matter.”

Gregory felt a pang in his heart. He hadn’t realised that by keeping this to himself he was also hurting Mycroft as well. ‘Wasn’t he the one that was always going on about communication and honesty, he thought.’ He felt very sad all of the sudden.

Gregory reached over and took one of Mycroft’s hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you.” He sniffed, and rubbed his nose with his other hand.

“Gregory, you are not, nor will you ever be a burden to me.” Mycroft’s voice came very close to catching in his throat.

“I’d kiss you right now, but I’m going to sneeze, so you’ll have to wait a moment.” Gregory barely got the words out before he quickly turned away from Mycroft.

HuhhrahhhSHHhooo! HuhhrahhhSHHhooo!

“God bless you, my dear.” As Mycroft reached up and wiped the allergic tears from Gregory’s face, Gregory nearly flinched from the gentle touch pressed to his sinuses.

Mycroft frowned. And then he spoke. “While I am troubled by your increasing symptoms, it is common. There is a different medication we can try, one that has a decongestant in it; that should help your sinuses. The difference in medication may also help your eyes. I know of your reluctance to take the pills, Gregory, but all I ask is that you try this. For me,” Mycroft added quietly, as if it were paining him to say so.

Gregory nodded, and then pulled Mycroft toward him and kissed him. Mycroft reciprocated the kiss, and then pulled Gregory down toward him, the way that Gregory did so many times for him.

This wasn’t a situation that he often found himself in, but for once, he wanted to be the one giving comfort. He settled Gregory against his chest and kissed his gorgeous silver hair, carding his fingers through the tresses, trying to ease whatever discomforts the detective inspector, his detective inspector had.

[Spoo]

“I’d kiss you right now, but I’m going to sneeze, so you’ll have to wait a moment.”

Quite possibly my favorite fetishy line of dialogue I've ever read.

These drabbles make me endlessly happy!

[Tassielli]

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Gregory.

Just Gregory.

Holy mother of Jeezes

That was amazing. Thank you so much. That was great. Can I have more?

Oh my god. Thank you

[cally]

Quite possibly my favorite fetishy line of dialogue I've ever read.

These drabbles make me endlessly happy!

You're moving me to tears, stop.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Gregory.

Just Gregory.

Holy mother of Jeezes

That was amazing. Thank you so much. That was great. Can I have more?

Oh my god. Thank you

You're very welcome. There will definitely be more (once I've slept).

[matilda3948]

Awww...this last one was and #129 were above and beyond your usual level of amazingness Such sweetness.

[ID2006]

Love love love Lestrade sneezes

[AngelEyes]

cally, on 10 March 2014 - 08:35 PM, said:

“I’d kiss you right now, but I’m going to sneeze, so you’ll have to wait a moment.”

Quite possibly my favorite fetishy line of dialogue I've ever read.

I totally agree!!!

Mycroft crossed the room to the couch where Gregory had situated himself. He sat down next to him and handed him a crisp and fresh handkerchief. Gregory sometimes wondered where they seemed to appear from.

Mycroft is magic. Obviously.

Mycroft studied him the way Sherlock studied a corpse or a crime scene. It was a bit unnerving.

So Holmse-ian.

You make me crazy happy!

[cally]

Awww...this last one was and #129 were above and beyond your usual level of amazingness Such sweetness.

Thank you so much. I'm not quite sure where it came from; I got all mushy.

Love love love Lestrade sneezes

You make me crazy happy!

I do endeavour to make everyone here happy.

[cally]

Here's a little bit more snuggly/mushy Mystrade feels.

132. inflamed

Mycroft felt miserable, although he would never admit it to anyone. He was congested, sneezy, and his sinuses felt very inflamed. In fact, the right side of his face felt swollen and puffy.

He was returning from a meeting, a meeting where he had spent considerable effort keeping himself in control; keeping from sneezing and sniffling. He was in the town car now, and was ever grateful to be able to finally blow his nose. He winced at the discomfort and at the fact that the fierce tickle in his nostrils and sinuses had failed to be alleviated.

Hehmmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

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

Mycroft snuffled into his handkerchief. “Apologies. Thank you, Anthea.” His voice was nearly two octaves deeper; he sounded terrible.

“You’re welcome, sir.” Anthea kept on texting. Or playing Words with Friends. He wondered who else had the time to play games with her. Sherlock, probably.

Mycroft lowered his rather damp handkerchief and rubbed his sinuses with his knuckles. He visibly flinched as his knuckle hit the sensitive spot right below his right eye. His eye watered and leaked and he quickly swiped away an allergic tear before sneezing again.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

“God bless you again, sir.” This time Anthea did put her mobile down. She studied Mycroft carefully and sighed.

“Apologies,” Mycroft said.

“Sir? How long have I worked for you?”

Mycroft glared at her from within the confines of his handkerchief.

“We both know the answer to that question, Anthea.”

“Yes, sir. But if you will permit me to say Mr. Holmes, there is no need to stand on such formality with me. There is also no need for you to . . .”

“Have you been speaking with Detective Inspector Lestrade again,” Mycroft interrupted.

Anthea did not answer; they both knew the answer to that question as well.

133. insubordination

It was only then that Mycroft realised that the car had changed direction.

Anthea had returned to her mobile. “The car is bringing you home. You can work from your home office for the remainder of the day. You look as if you could use the rest.”

Mycroft wanted to snap at her for her insubordination, but he had a feeling that she was not the only guilty party in this.

When they arrived at his townhouse, he found Gregory waiting for him. “Not a word,” Gregory said. “You need some looking after.”

Mycroft huffed and then sneezed; apparently a moment outside today was a moment too long.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish!

“God bless you, love. Come with me.” And Gregory led Mycroft up the stairs.

Once they got to their bedroom, Gregory started to undress the British government. Mycroft swatted his hands away. “I can manage myself, Gregory,” he started to say, breath hitching, and then turned to the side to sneeze yet again.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftishooo!

“God bless you again! Love, let me help you. Please.”

Mycroft scowled and removed his suit and put on his dressing gown, pausing only to blow his nose once more.

“Gregory, what is the meaning of all this?”

“Myc, you look terrible. The right side of your face is swollen for Christ sake. It practically looks bruised. You need some rest, a decongestant; and someone to care for you. There’s no reason why you can’t take some time to care for yourself.”

“Gregory, I have things that need to be . . .”

“No. No you don’t,” Gregory interrupted. He was cross. “Anthea and I have taken care of everything. For this afternoon, you are going to allow me to take care of you. You are going to rest. You are going to take some medicine and you are going to allow me to just hold you. Otherwise, the next step is to involve John which means involving Sherlock, and I know you don’t want that.”

Mycroft sighed. He turned and saw that Gregory had clearly taken time to plan for this. There was a box of tissues and a stack of handkerchiefs on the night stand, along with medication boxes, a teapot, and what looked to be some sort of icepack.

Mycroft was as moved as he was possibly able to be, but still was willing to put up a fight. He was about to lecture the detective inspector on what happens when issues of national security are mishandled, but instead found his breath hitching for the umpteenth time that day.

Hehmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftishooo!

Gregory handed Mycroft a fresh handkerchief. “God bless you, love. Now get into bed. Please.”

Mycroft sniffled wetly and allowed himself to be steered toward the bed. He paused and dramatically sneezed again, sighing at the indignity of it all.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftishooo!

“God bless you. God bless you. God bless you. God bless you.” Gregory kissed Mycroft on the forehead and settled them both on the bed.

“Thag you, Gregory.” Mycroft sighed and blew his nose so he could speak clearly.

Gregory smiled at his lover’s predicament. “It’s no bother, love.” He handed him a cup of tea and some pills. “These should help. And then we’re going to ice your sinuses and see if that can help the swelling.” Gregory then put his arm around Mycroft and snuggled him in, kissing his forehead.

Mycroft quickly brought his hand up, covering his nose.

Mmmpftish! Mmmpftishooo!

“Apologies, Gregory.”

Gregory chuckled. “God bless you again! You poor thing. Now rest, please. For me.” He kissed Mycroft again, attempting to be as comforting as he could.

Mycroft sniffled and nodded, and softly kissed Gregory back.

Mycroft settled back after taking the pills and Gregory set the mask/ice pack on the right side of his face, taking care not to put too much pressure. Once Mycroft was as comfortable as possible, he began to rub his neck, easing away the tension. And if the British government allowed himself the simple comfort from his lover, and happened to take a bit of an afternoon nap, no one was the wiser.

[Spoo]

Oh my goshhhh. The caretaking! And Mycroft's reluctant-turned-defeated acceptance. I love ittttt.

[cally]

Oh my goshhhh. The caretaking! And Mycroft's reluctant-turned-defeated acceptance. I love ittttt.

He resigned himself to the very fact that he could not get out of this. The car wouldn't take him anywhere, nor would Gregory allow him to do any work (at least initially). The British government works too hard and needs some respite.

[AngelEyes]

The British government works too hard and needs some respite.

Mmmmm. Indeed.