Cally's Sherlock drabbles #2 [81/221] (28 September 2017)

[Skyler]

Your writing is always fabulous! I'm always so excited to see your work, and you most certainly did not disappoint today! Poor Gregory... <3

[matilda3948]

Oh, it's always fun when you post a new drabble! I know you're working really hard on other (much less fun) things. Take care of yourself!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Happy to see you back writing! I've missed your fics. Love seeing a soggy, sneezy Greg.

[cally]

I've been away from the forum for what seems ages due to insaneness in my own life, but I come back just in time to see you are back! Yay! Sorry things are not good right now. Hugs! But your writing is still/always wonderful! Do not worry about that!!!

Thank you. It means a lot to me to read this.

Hope writing made you feel a little better. This latest drabble definitely brightened my day.

But your writing is still/always wonderful! Do not worry about that!!!

I completely agree. You're writing is excellent.

*blushes* Thank you.

Your writing is always fabulous! I'm always so excited to see your work, and you most certainly did not disappoint today! Poor Gregory... <3

Thank you. Yes, poor Gregory indeed.

Oh, it's always fun when you post a new drabble! I know you're working really hard on other (much less fun) things. Take care of yourself!

Thank you. I really am not doing much of anything right now, sort of waiting to find out what's going to happen. I really should post a blog post to explain it all.

Happy to see you back writing! I've missed your fics. Love seeing a soggy, sneezy Greg.

Thank you. I could always toss him in the Thames next (again!)

Again, thank you all for your kind words. It really does mean so much to have all your support and well-wishes.

This next piece is actually based on when I went to London in early May. It was really nice, but the entire time I was there, all this pollens-floaty stuff was everywhere. It was stuck to me, in my hair, all over my clothes. My eyes were so irritated it was ridiculous (and of course somehow I managed to forget my glasses, so I was in my contacts the whole time which didn't help)! My nose was awfully itchy too, and I was really hopeful that I would sneeze, but of course no. The rest of the city was far luckier in that respect, and I was terribly jealous.

I have no idea what it was, but it was terribly annoying/distracting at the same time!

13. May

Mycroft Holmes detested early May. Every year without fail, right around the early May bank holiday the trees of London would practically explode with tiny floating bits of pollen. This year was no exception he noted, glaring out the window at the detritus drifting through the air. Just watching it made his nose itch and he gave the offending appendage a harsh rub.

With a sniff, he turned away from the window, glad that he had been able to work from home today. Mycroft was certain that just walking to the car would have set him off for a good hour at the very least. He debated returning to his paperwork, when he heard the front door open and close. With a smile, he went out to welcome his partner home.

When he made his way out into the entryway, he found Gregory standing, waiting. Mycroft was about to head over to him, but was stopped by the older man. “Don’t come any closer, love. I’m covered in floaty bits of pollen,” he said. Mycroft wisely stopped in his tracks.

“What happened to you, Gregory?” Mycroft asked, his nose twitching.

“I was chasing a suspect in Hyde Park. Everything’s bloody covered in this stuff, especially in the ahhh hehh parks,” he managed to get out before sneezing violently into a loosely formed fist.

Heh’HRDSCHHhhhhooo!

“God bless you, Gregory,” Mycroft said in surprise. Gregory wasn’t one to succumb to seasonal maladies, but he also didn’t tend to end up covered in acres of pollen either.

“Thanks,” Gregory said, sniffling wetly.

Frowning, Mycroft removed his handkerchief from his pocket. Taking a step closer, he tossed it to the detective inspector. “You should undress. Let me get a bag for your clothing,” he said, rubbing at his eye. Just being in close proximity to the allergen was beginning to affect him.

Gregory nodded as he blew his nose and Mycroft quickly went to fetch something suitable for his partner to put his coated clothing in. He found a bin bag and headed back out toward foyer, pausing a moment to stifle a series of ticklish sneezes into his wrist.

Heh-hhhmmpftish! Mmmmpftish! Mmmmpftighx! Mmmmpftx!

Sniffling back the moisture, he joined Gregory again, and slid the bag over to him. Gregory raised an eyebrow at him; he could see that Mycroft was already suffering, despite keeping his distance. He quickly undressed down to his pants, tossing everything else into the bag and closing it up.

“I should take a shower,” he said.

Mycroft nodded. He sniffed again, trying to keep himself under control, but the irritation was too strong. He brought his hands up to cover his nose, sneezing harshly.

Hehhh-hhhmmmpftish! Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh! MmmpfTIGshooo!

“God bless you, love,” Gregory said emphatically. “Why don’t you take another pill while I get cleaned up, ok?” He could see that his lover was doing a valiant job of trying to keep in control, but he knew from experience that Mycroft could only hold back so long.

“Thank you. My apologies,” Mycroft murmured, heading up the stairs. He could feel the feathery tickles deep inside his nostrils again and paused, grabbing onto the banister. Panting, his breath hitched erratically as he built up to a punishing fit of ticklish sneezes. He was glad Gregory was behind him; he could feel his warm hand splayed out on the small of his back, steadying him through the fit.

Ah….hah……heh…..heh…..hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Hhh……heh………hhhmmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Mmmpftish! INGHtighshooo!

“God bless you again, love,” Gregory said softly.

“Thank you, my dear. Please do excuse me,” Mycroft said, sniffling wetly. They had made their way upstairs and with his wrist pressed to the underside of his nose, Mycroft quickly made his way to the box of tissues on his nightstand.

“I’m sorry love,” Gregory said before heading into the ensuite and getting into the shower.

Mycroft sank down onto the bed and blew his nose. He wiped at his watery eyes and took a moment to compose himself. Tossing the tissues away, he rose and headed into the ensuite to get his antihistamine.

The ensuite was steamy, as Gregory showered away the day. Mycroft opened the drawer where the pills were kept, and pulled out the foil package. As he was about to remove a pill, he was startled by one of Gregory’s trademark loud sneezes as the shower was turned off.

Huh’huhrahhhSHHooooo!

“Goodness, God bless you!” Mycroft said worriedly as Gregory stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist while Mycroft swallowed down the pill.

“Thanks, love,” Gregory said. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me.” He paused a moment. “Are you ok?” In the time he had been showering, Mycroft’s eyes had become incredibly red, puffy, and irritated looking.

Mycroft nodded as their eyes met in the mirror, and he had to turn away to sneeze again, his breath hitching almost comically in the reflection.

Hng’ISSH! Hng’mmpftish! MmmmINGHtighsh! Hehhhhhhh………INGHtighshOOO!

“Christ! God bless you! Come sit down, love.” Gregory directed him back into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. He then went and pulled a soft handkerchief from the bureau and brought it over to Mycroft. Still clad in his towel, he sat down next to his lover and gently wiped a stray tear away.

“Thank you, Gregory. Again, my apologies, my dearest.” He reached over and squeezed Gregory’s knee before blowing his nose once again, rubbing his nose forcefully with the cloth before tucking it away in the pocket of his trousers.

Mycroft was then aware of Gregory’s eyes on him, almost as if was studying him and committing him to memory. With a sigh, the ginger-haired man rubbed his eyes again.

“Myc, are you sure you’re ok? I’ve never seen your eyes like this.” Gregory’s voice was filled with concern, as he gently reached out and cupped his lover’s cheek.

Mycroft rubbed at his still irritated nose, making a concentrated effort not to touch his horrifically itchy eyes. “I believe whatever is floating through the air is causing this. It happens every year, unfortunately. My eyes tend to get incredibly irritated looking, but it is not painful.”

“It looks awful, love,” Gregory said sadly.

Mycroft was about to reply, but instead gasped out a pair of wet sounding sneezes, quickly turning to the side.

Ahhhh…..heh’TISHoooooo! Heh’MMMPFTISHooo!

“God bless you again, love.”

Before he could pull the handkerchief from his pocket, Gregory was handing him a few tissues. “Thank you,” Mycroft said softly, dabbing at his nose.

Gregory put his arm around him and pulled him close. “You’re welcome, love. I wish there was more I could do,” he said.

Mycroft leaned into the embrace. “This is enough,” he whispered.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I think the floating pollen is a great idea. Around here it is cottonwood. But where I grew up it was oak. Likely a tree of some kind in London. And you are spot on with even people who don't have allergies become affected. Bless Gregory for trying not to track it through the house and still Mycroft can't escape. Love Mycroft trying not to itch his eyes. Poor baby!

[Skyler]

Oh my gosh this is perfect, I love that both of them were affected

[cally]

I think the floating pollen is a great idea. Around here it is cottonwood. But where I grew up it was oak. Likely a tree of some kind in London. And you are spot on with even people who don't have allergies become affected. Bless Gregory for trying not to track it through the house and still Mycroft can't escape. Love Mycroft trying not to itch his eyes. Poor baby!

Whatever it was, I was literally covered in it while I was there! So Gregory had his work cut out for him I'm sure, trying not to get it everywhere and trying to keep Mycroft from having a reaction as best as he could.

Oh my gosh this is perfect, I love that both of them were affected

Thank you! It seemed to be rather potent!

14. In the rain

​This is based on this image making the rounds on tumblr this week.

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade stood in the rain, his back to the crime scene he had just stepped away from. He was cold, wet, and completely exhausted. This case, these kinds of cases always tore him apart. His shoulders slumping downward, he stopped to shove his hands in his pockets in an attempt to try to keep a bit of his body warm.

He was unsure how long he stood there for, frozen in time, until he was aware of someone calling his name; Donovan. Her hair was sopping wet, the curls heavy and dripping with water. “Are you ok?”

Sighing, he nodded. He wasn’t ok, not really, but nothing Donovan could do would solve that right now. She looked up at him and could see that this case would haunt him. Unsure what to say, she reached out and squeezed his arm before turning and walking back toward the crime scene.

He looked upward into the night sky, wanting to rant and rave at a God he wasn’t sure he believed in, especially after nights like this. If tears mixed in with the rain coursing down his face, well the weather covered all manner of sins.

With a final ragged sigh, he began to walk with no destination in mind. Less than a minute later, a black town car had slowed beside him, and Lestrade didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of him wanted to keep walking, to run as fast as he could away from all this, but he was far too responsible for that. So he stopped walking and got into the waiting car.

Sniffling, Lestrade shivered from the cold and tried his best not to drip all over the interior of the car and its other occupant. Mycroft Holmes looked his partner and lover over wordlessly, his face not betraying the emotions he was currently feeling. He could start and stop wars with a word or a glance across a room, but there was little even he could do to stop the evil lurking in the hearts and minds of others. He only hoped that his presence could help soothe whatever ailed his Gregory.

Shuddering again, Lestrade gasped out a pair of harsh, violent sneezes.

Huh’hrahhhshhhhooo! HRDSCHHhhhh!

Reaching into his pocket, Mycroft pulled out his pressed handkerchief and handed it to the inspector. “God bless you, Gregory,” he said quietly.

Lestrade nodded his thanks and then wiped his face and blew his nose. Shoving the damp cloth into the pocket of his raincoat, he leaned back against the leather seat and sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He could feel Mycroft watching him, reading every line on his face and deducing the outcome of the day, even if he had been briefed on it already.

Mycroft remained quiet; the only sounds came from the rain beating a tattoo on the hood and roof of the car and the soft purr of the engine as they drove through the wet streets of London. After a few moments, he finally reached out and took Gregory’s chilled hand in his warm one. Gregory gripped his hand tight. Neither of them let go.

[AngelEyes]

Is it terribly awful of me if I'm a bit enamored of the month of May? The reason for which you completely epitomize in your drabble May. Glorious. If it helps I do feel a bit guilty...

And this last one. The picture is beautiful. And you paint the story behind the scene so well.

He looked upward into the night sky, wanting to rant and rave at a God he wasn’t sure he believed in, especially after nights like this. If tears mixed in with the rain coursing down his face, well the weather covered all manner of sins.

This is such a poignant paragraph. Eloquent and vivid. So much feeling.

With a final ragged sigh, he began to walk with no destination in mind. Less than a minute later, a black town car had slowed beside him, and Lestrade didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of him wanted to keep walking, to run as fast as he could away from all this, but he was far too responsible for that. So he stopped walking and got into the waiting car.

And this is so perfectly Greg. It absolutely suits his character. And I totally know how he's feeling, been there a time or two myself.

Much love as always!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

I had seen this picture and thought it deserved a story to go with it. You wrote a beautiful one. It captured the dark mood wonderfully. Your depiction of Greg's ambiguity about seeing Mycroft while feeling so low is very realistic. Thank you for a fabulous fic!

[cally]

And this is so perfectly Greg. It absolutely suits his character. And I totally know how he's feeling, been there a time or two myself.

Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the last piece.

I had seen this picture and thought it deserved a story to go with it. You wrote a beautiful one. It captured the dark mood wonderfully. Your depiction of Greg's ambiguity about seeing Mycroft while feeling so low is very realistic. Thank you for a fabulous fic!

Thank you. I really liked the picture and wanted to try to do something that expressed how unhappy Lestrade seemed.

15. dramatic

Mycroft had been gone for a week, a week far too long to be separated from his husband. He was terribly glad to be back home, but wishing it was in better circumstances, as he was rather spectacularly unwell. He felt utterly miserable and wretched. He had so much work to catch up on, but it was nigh impossible to focus on any of the briefings he was supposed to be reading. He piled them up and put them on the bedside table. Maybe after a cup of tea he would be able to focus again.

He plucked yet another tissue from the box beside him and blew his nose. Mycroft hated being reduced to this, using tissues. It was the only reasonable choice at this point, as he had gone through five handkerchiefs in the first twenty minutes of being awake. And not to mention resting in bed when he should be working; it was simply intolerable.

With a dramatic sigh that would have rivalled the likes of Sherlock, he sat up fully, head swimming with the effort. His sinuses throbbed and he gasped out a series of violent, wet sneezes that were completely uncharacteristic to his normal sounding stifles.

Heh……hhhmmmmpTNSGH! ING’ISHHHHHOOO! Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! TNSGH’SHHHH!

“Oh love. God bless you,” Gregory said as he came in with a cup of tea for his husband.

Mycroft grabbed yet another handful of tissues and tended to his nose. “Thag you, by dear,” he croaked out. “I ab sorry by hobecomig was not bore memorable,” he added softly, his nose obviously terribly congested.

Picking up his mug of tea, he took a soothing sip. Mycroft could feel the seemingly ever-present tickle within his nostrils build up again and he quickly put the mug down and grabbed a fair handful of tissues. As his breath hitched, he buried his nose within them and sneezed harshly, unable to contain the expulsions in volume or restraint.

Hehhhhh’TNSGH’SHHHH! Heh’NNNG’SHHHHH! Huh’Hng’ISSHOOO! Ahhhh’TISHOOO!

“God bless you again,” Lestrade said, frowning.

“Mmmm. Thag you, dearest.” Mycroft sighed and blew his nose yet again. The poor abused appendage was starting to become rather red.

Gregory rummaged about in the bureau for a moment, and returned with the softest handkerchiefs that Mycroft owned. “Here, love. These should be a bit gentler on your nose.” He sat down beside his husband and squeezed his arm. “Can I get you anything else?”

Snuffling into one of the silk handkerchiefs, Mycroft shook his head. He detested being ill, but at least now he had someone to look after him.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh poor Mycroft! He seems particularly frustrated this time. Good luck Greg!

[squealofapproval]

Awww~! I missed your writing a lot while I was off-forum, and it's great to read more of it! You really are talented and just guhh these drabbles are amazing.

[cally]

Oh poor Mycroft! He seems particularly frustrated this time. Good luck Greg!

Frustrated and ill, not a good combination for Mycroft.

Awww~! I missed your writing a lot while I was off-forum, and it's great to read more of it! You really are talented and just guhh these drabbles are amazing.

Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying.

16. composing

Bright June sunlight illuminated the flat. The weather for once was gorgeous and warm and the city was alive with flowers and greenery. Sherlock was uninterested in that, of course. He was composing; well trying to compose. He put his pen down, and rubbed at his eye.

Crossing to the window, he began to play again, more slowly this time, listening to, feeling the music. Sherlock committed the notes to memory as he played, eyes closed. Suddenly, he paused and directed a violent sneeze into his shoulder.

Hngxt!

Sherlock sniffed and rubbed at his nose. This was intolerable, the hay fever. He mentally cursed his brother; he obviously blamed him although it wasn’t his fault biologically of course. He turned back to the music stand and made a few notations. Frowning, he put the violin back on his shoulder and played again for a moment, closing his eyes.

As he played, he was unaware of the CCTV camera turning in his direction. Sherlock sniffled again, trying to keep the irritation from increasing while he played a few more notes. The distraction proved too much for the consulting detective and he quickly put the violin down and sneezed harshly, cupping his hands around his nose.

Hngxt! Hngxtshhoo! HngxtISSSshhooo! Hngxtshhi!

Sherlock sniffed and rubbed his nose in annoyance. He wondered if there were any tissues; he was probably going to need one before long. He was about to remove his mobile to text John, when it buzzed within the pocket of his dressing gown.

He quickly removed it, hoping that it was Lestrade contacting him with a new case. A juicy murder would be quite welcome right now. He was sorely disappointed when he read the text.

God bless you, brother mine. –MH

Sherlock rolled his eyes and quickly pulled the curtains closed.

[stargazer]

Very cute.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

LOL! Mycroft can be such a stalker sometimes. Of course he was probably feeling just as crummy as Sherlock, so he just had to check on him. Where was John? The next room and Sherlock was just going to text him?

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! I love this theme!

[cally]

Very cute.

Thanks!

LOL! Mycroft can be such a stalker sometimes. Of course he was probably feeling just as crummy as Sherlock, so he just had to check on him. Where was John? The next room and Sherlock was just going to text him?

Of course, Mycroft is feeling just as miserable. Poor lamb. I've continued this, but no, John wasn't in the next room.

Aw! I love this theme!

Thanks!

17. boring

Sherlock flung himself onto the couch, rubbing at his eyes. He left his arm across his eyes. He was unsure how long he was there on the couch; he may have even dozed off. It wasn’t until he heard the rusting of bags that he stirred.

John had arrived back home, from the shops presumably. Boring; no wonder he deleted it, he thought. With a dramatic sigh, Sherlock sat up and ran a hand through his unruly curls. Sniffling, he peered over at what John had bought; milk, bread, eggs. Boring. Dull.

Sherlock could feel the ticklish irritation returning and he swiped at his nose in annoyance before gasping out several sneezes.

Hehhhngxt! HngxtISSSH! HngxTISHssshh! HngxTISHssshhoo!

John peered up from the inside of the fridge where he was putting away the groceries. “Bless you, Sherlock. Alright?”

Sniffing damply, Sherlock hummed his response absently. He was too itchy and irritated to care and he rubbed at his eyes.

John rolled his eyes at the non-response. He finished putting the groceries away and after an additional moment of searching, he found a half-empty box of tissues and brought them over to the consulting detective.

Sherlock grabbed a handful and noisily blew his nose. John rolled his eyes at the sound, but soon realised it was probably due to the congestion. He suddenly felt bad for his friend; it seemed every year that it got worse for him.

“Tea?” John asked.

Snuffling into his tissues, Sherlock nodded.

John headed back into the kitchen and filled the kettle. While it heated, he got two mugs down and the milk out of the fridge. He looked out into the living room when he heard a startled gasp.

Heh-ehhhhh-hhhhhngxtsh! Hngxtissshoo!

“Bless you!” John called.

He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. The kettle clicked off and he began the calming ritual of tea making. Once done, he brought the mugs out to the sitting room and handed one to Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said quietly, his voice at least two octaves lower than normal.

John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock, who immediately curled up on the couch, his head in John’s lap.

John chuckled at the antics and took a tip of tea before putting it down and carding his fingers through the unruly curls. Sherlock hummed in pleasure; he would never admit it to anyone but the sensations were truly pleasurable. While it didn’t alleviate the symptoms, it did help take his mind of his utterly stuffed up nose and itchy eyes.

John alternated tracing patterns on Sherlock’s scalp and drinking his tea. It was nice; the flat was quiet apart from the sounds of traffic on the street outside. Sherlock was close to dozing again when his nostrils twitched and he pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, stifling the ticklish expulsions.

Heh-huh-Hngxissshh! HngISHxt! Hng’ISSH! Hngxissshh! Hngxtisshhh! HngISSHOOO!

“Bless you!” John reached over for the tissues and handed a few to Sherlock, who had managed to sit up.

“Thags,” he mumbled congestedly.

“You’re welcome,” John said. He looked Sherlock over; his eyes were red and irritated looking. “Can I get you anything, Sherlock?”

Sherlock shrugged, sniffling. He reached for his tea and swallowed a mouthful. He was tired; hay fever seemed to drain him more and more each season. He was feeling so drained and debilitated by it he was seriously considering asking Mycroft for advice. He was the one who had been suffering for so long and had managed to come out the other side being able to function in the world.

He sighed dramatically and put his head back down in John’s lap. He steepled his fingers under his nose and went into his Mind Palace. There were considerations to be made.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw! Poor Sherlock! He MUST be desperate if he's considering asking Mycroft for help!

(Plus, Sherlock curling up on John's lap and John petting Sherlock's hair for comfort. I will never, ever get tired of that.)

[stargazer]

John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock, who immediately curled up on the couch, his head in John’s lap.

John chuckled at the antics and took a tip of tea before putting it down and carding his fingers through the unruly curls. Sherlock hummed in pleasure; he would never admit it to anyone but the sensations were truly pleasurable. While it didn’t alleviate the symptoms, it did help take his mind of his utterly stuffed up nose and itchy eyes.

I just love scenes like this. Glad John was finally there to make Sherlock feel a little better.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Poor baby. I love how Sherlock seeks out John's lap when he doesn't feel good.

[cally]

Aw! Poor Sherlock! He MUST be desperate if he's considering asking Mycroft for help!

No kidding, right?

I just love scenes like this. Glad John was finally there to make Sherlock feel a little better.

Well, he'd be lost without his blogger.

Poor baby. I love how Sherlock seeks out John's lap when he doesn't feel good.

Comforting head rubs are comforting.

I've been struggling with my real life writing, so I was encouraged to write something enjoyable to perhaps get my brain functioning. I'm not sure if it worked, but I guess I will see when I go back to my lit review (7 months of my life on one chapter, please someone shoot me now).

18. hell

Mycroft was in the midst of hayfever hell. He was constantly altering between being completely congested or horrifically drippy. Right now, he could hardly breathe with how clogged his sinuses were.

Sniffling pathetically, he picked up the next document for review. Across the room, his husband was sprawled out across the couch, engrossed in a novel. It was the weekend, but England never slept. So, while it wasn’t exactly quality time, they were at least sort of spending time together.

As he read on, the bridge of Mycroft’s long nose crinkled, and he stifled a sneeze.

H’Mmmpfx!

“G’bless,” Gregory murmured, not looking up from his book. It wasn’t the first blessing he had offered that afternoon, and most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Mmmpfch!

“And again.” This time, the detective inspector did glance up. He frowned as he watched his lover struggling to keep in control; his nose was visibly twitching and even from where he was sitting he could see that Mycroft’s eyes were red and watery. Fretting, he pondered what to do as Mycroft’s eyes fluttered shut before he succumbed to another pair of sneezes, which he smothered against his wrist.

Heh’tish! Hng’ISSH!

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

“Thank you my dear. My apologies for disturbing you,” Mycroft replied, sniffling past the congestion. He plucked a tissue from the nearby box, dabbed at his nostrils and immediately regretted the action. His breath audibly hitched and he buried his nose into the tissue, sneezing harshly.

Gn’TNSGH’SHHHH! Heh’TNSGH! Hehhhhh’TNSGH’SHHHH! Huh’Ishoooo!

“God bless you again!”

Reaching for the tissues again, Mycroft nodded his thanks. He made every attempt to blow his nose, but it was difficult with how congested he still was. Sighing, he tossed the tissues in the bin, and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Gregory put his book down and crossed the room to stand behind Mycroft. He put his hands on Mycroft’s tense shoulders and began to rub circles into the tightened muscles.

Mycroft sighed again and relaxed into the touch. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to relish the warmth and love being provided by his husband.

The moment was short lived as Mycroft could feel the irritation building again. He sniffed futilely, trying to hold back the pressing need and desire to sneeze. Gregory felt the change in Mycroft’s posture and gently gripped his shoulders as his partner shuddered out several harsh sounding sneezes, his hands cupped around his nose.

Heh’INGHtighsh! MmmpfTIGish! Heh……huh’mmmmpTNSGH! HDSCHHhhhh!! Heh’TNSGH! Heh’IMPFTIGH’ish!

“Oh lovey. God bless you. And again and again.” Lestrade pulled out one of Mycroft’s softer handkerchiefs from the pocket of his jeans. “Here, love.”

“Thank you my dear,” Mycroft said, pressing the soft cloth to his nose. He blew his nose, relieved that this last bout of sneezing had loosened the congestion some. When he was done, he sank back in the chair again, drained.

Gregory frowned again. He hated seeing his lover like this. “Let me make you some tea,” he said, hoping that Mycroft would be comforted by the act.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

You do such a good job describing Mycroft and his misery. It makes me feel so sad. Maybe Greg should book a vacation for them to the desert. Arizona is nice. Oh wait, too much sun! Mycroft would freckle. He can't win.

[cally]

You do such a good job describing Mycroft and his misery. It makes me feel so sad. Maybe Greg should book a vacation for them to the desert. Arizona is nice. Oh wait, too much sun! Mycroft would freckle. He can't win.

I pretty much have described how I've been feeling lately, minus the sneezing. I've felt pretty miserable lately, either ridiculously congested or terribly drippy and gross and just ugh. It's the frustration I feel that I take out on poor Mycroft.

19. uncontrollable

Mycroft squeezed his husband’s hand. “I would love some tea. Thank you, Gregory.”

The older man placed a kiss on top of Mycroft’s head and went off to prepare the tea. Mycroft leaned back in his chair again and rubbed his throbbing, aching sinuses with his thumb and index finger. While the sneezing was inconvenient and somewhat annoying, he would prefer it to the pain and pressure that filled his sinuses when he was having a particularly harsh flare-up. Like he was right now.

Sighing, he made an attempt to blow his nose again. He could breathe a bit easier now, certainly better than earlier in the day. He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and resumed reading the file he had set aside a few moments ago.

About ten minutes later, Gregory came in with a tray containing a pot of tea, cups, and a plate of biscuits. “Here we go, love,” he said, smiling.

Mycroft returned the smile. “Thank you, dearest,” he said as he rose from his chair. His sinuses protested the movement and he was barely able to bring his wrist up in time.

Heh’Mmmpfx!

He knew that this was barely the start and quickly reached for the handkerchief in his pocket. Mycroft cupped it within his hands just as the ticklish, uncontrollable sneezes burst forth.

Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . huh’ING’SHHHHH! Gn’ingxxishhh! Huh’ngtshhhooo!

Gregory looked over, concerned. “God bless,” he began, but was cut off as Mycroft continued to give into the frenzied sneezes. He quickly made his way over and placed his hand on Mycroft’s back, murmuring blessings.

Huh’ING’SHHHHH! Tish! Heh! --Ah-hehhhh Aah! Heh’INGHtighsh! Heh’TSSSCHH! Hng’ISSH-OOO! Ahhh-hent’ISH! Heh’NGISH! NGISHOOO!

By the end of the fit, Mycroft was drained, shaking, and damp-eyed. His husband led him over to the couch, got him seated and brought him another handkerchief and a box of tissues. “God bless you, love. You poor thing,” Gregory said gently, resuming rubbing soothing circles on his back.

With trembling hands, Mycroft accepted the fresh handkerchief and blew his nose as carefully as possible, not wanting to trigger another fit. His sinuses ached considerably, and he was going to need to take something for them sooner rather than later. He was about to mention this to Gregory, when the man in question huffed out a loud sneeze of his own.

Huh’huhrahhhSHHooo!

Mycroft looked over at him in surprise. “God bless you, my dear,” he said.

Gregory sat there, a hand clamped over his mouth and nose, unsure if he would be repeating the action. He sniffed experimentally and was about to thank his partner, when he found himself gasping out another sneeze.

HDSCHHhhhhooo!

“Goodness! God bless you again, Gregory!”

The detective inspector sniffed again, and reached for the tissues on the coffee table in front of them. He swiped at his nose with a handful and then shoved them into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he said. “Apparently it’s catching,” he teased, a glint in his eyes.

Mycroft looked at him suspiciously. Gregory wasn’t one to suffer from hayfever, but, like many people, wasn’t exactly immune to the days when the pollen count had soared.

“You went outside,” Mycroft finally said.

Gregory nodded, finally pouring the tea from the teapot he had brought in. “I have a case file I need to review at some point, so I ran out to grab my briefcase while the water was boiling.” He handed a cup of tea to Mycroft and set about pouring his own.

They sat quietly enjoying their tea, sharing small smiles and intimate glances. Mycroft rubbed his sinuses with his free hand, wincing slightly. Gregory frowned at the action. He should have noticed before, he thought sadly. He could definitely see it now; Mycroft’s sinuses were puffy and swollen looking. He put his tea down and rose from the couch. “Be right back,” he said.

Mycroft nodded absently, apparently lost in thought.

A few moments later, the older man returned. He handed three pills to his husband. “This should help,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner.”

Mycroft looked at the pills. “Dearest, if I take these I won’t be able to finish working.”

Gregory sighed. “Are you actually getting all that much done as it is? I know you’re in pain, even if you’d never admit it.”

Mycroft cocked his head and considered his options. Gregory was correct; he wasn’t getting much done, the sinus pain and pressure had seen to that. With a sigh, he swallowed down the tablets with the remainder of his tea.

Smiling smugly, Lestrade settled back on the large couch, half laying down. He reached out for Mycroft and pulled him down so that the younger man was reclining up against him, keeping his head elevated on his chest so he could breathe easier.

Mycroft got as comfortable as he was going to get and immediately began to relax when he felt Gregory’s warm fingers rubbing the back of his neck. With a soft sniffle, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the touch.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Well it's probably for the best that Mycroft just surrender to Greg's tender ministrations. We do not want him making decisions impaired by a sinus headache or sinus meds. Love how Greg knows just what is needed. Who says he doesn't observe!

[AngelEyes]

Poor Mycroft. Those uncontrollable fits are sure rough. But, mmmmm.