When John woke up that morning and went down stairs, Sherlock was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a thick doona, sniffling. Alarmed, John rushed over to him. "Are you alright, Sherlock?" he asked, worriedly, pressing his wrist to Sherlock's forehead.
Sherlock swatted his hand away. "Don't be daft John. I am perfectly alright," he responded, his voice sounding thick.
"Sherlock! You've got a fever; you have to go back to bed, no buts, doctor's orders. I'll call the clinic; tell them I'm taking the day off. Now, up to bed with you, I'll be with you in a sec with a nice hot cup of tea," John fussed, shooing Sherlock away.
Grumbling, Sherlock complied, complaining all the way. Well, he wouldn't be Sherlock if he didn't.
Grinning, John picked up his cell and dialled the office, praying Sarah wouldn't be there. He started fixing Sherlock some tea as he did so. "Hello, Sarah speaking. How may I help you?" Sarah answered politely.
"Ah, hello Sarah, John here. Just wanted to let you know I won't be coming in to work today," John said, cursing his bad luck.
Sarah would not be lenient. "Oh. Hello John, I'm afraid that you can't do that. We are quite packed today," She said, her voice clipped.
"Then get another doctor! I told you, I can't come in today!" John huffed, pressing the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he added sleeping pills to Sherlock's tea.
"Well, we can't. So either you come into work today or get fired."
"For God's sake Sarah! Fine! I quit!" John growled angrily into the phone, frowning.
He knew that was rash, but he was fed up with Sarah being bitchy. He hung up and shoved it roughly back into his pocket, carefully carrying the tea to Sherlock's room.
"Here you go, Sherlock," John said, sitting on the edge of Sherlock's bed, and handing him the drugged cup of tea.
"Thanks," he muttered thickly, taking a deep drink.
John could feel his jaw muscle moving out in irritation, unable to help it. He was so riled up! He felt like he could shoot that damn smiley face on the bloody wall! John looked to the side, fists clenching. He closed his eyes and taking deep breaths.
A soft hand hesitantly touched his arm, making John open his eyes and turn to face Sherlock. He had a sleepy expression on his face, and, glancing at his cup, John saw he had drunk all of his tea. "John?" he asked sleepily, looking completely adorable.
"Yes, Sherlock?" John asked softly, placing his hand on Sherlock's on his arm, his anger instantly vanishing.
"Please don't leave me," his eyes were already drooping shut, and his voice was barely a whisper.
John smiled. "I won't, I'll be here when you wake," he promised, repeating the same words Sherlock had said to him when he was drunk.
A small smile ghosted Sherlock's lips before he let out a soft sigh and fell asleep.
Stretching out into a more comfortable position, John settled himself so he wouldn't get cramped up. Grabbing Sherlock's hand, he idly started playing with Sherlock's long fingers.
John started upright from his near-sleep and glanced at Sherlock. He was still sleeping, his expression peaceful. Wondering what had woken him, he carefully inspected the room. There was a pile of fresh cookies on the bedside table.
John smiled; Mrs Hudson must have come in and put them there. As John reached out to grab one, he noticed a note beside the plate. Frowning slightly, he grabbed it instead, holding it up to his face so he could see in the dim light.
'Dear Johnny boy and Sherlock Holmes,
I do hope Sherlock gets better soon and that you do not catch his cold, Doctor. Flu's are fickle things and we don't want them spreading. I hope you enjoy the cookies, I spent hours slaving over them, so I hope they taste nice!
p.s. I tasted one (or a few actually) so they are not poisonous, contrary to what you might think! Please enjoy and tell Sherlly that I hope he gets better soon!
John stared at the note in shock, then back to the cookies. He didn't know if he wanted to eat them now, knowing that his sister had made them. Although, she did say she had tried a few…
Tentatively, he reached out and took one, holding it to his nose and sniffing. It smelt alright. He took a tiny bite and made a noise of startled surprise. They were good! Great even! He moaned softly as he took a larger bite of the chocolate chip goodness.
He savoured the taste in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue a few times before swallowing.
He opened his eyes with a start, realising he had close them; the cookie was so good.
Grabbing another cookie, he lay back down, and ate it bite by bite. He absently grabbed Sherlock's hand again. Sherlock suddenly pulled him up the bed with surprising strength, making John cry out in surprise. He pulled John up against his body and cuddled him like a teddy bear.
Sherlock's eyes were still closed and John gave a mental shrug, Sherlock letting out a deep sigh.
John really badly wanted to do three things:
1. (and most important) he needed to pee. Really bad.
2. He wanted to kiss Sherlock on those perfect lips of his.
3. He wanted to eat more cookies. They were so delicious.
Even thinking of them made his mouth water. Mmm…
Every time John moved, Sherlock would move with him, adjusting so he was comfy, and tightening his hold on John.
John's muscles were getting cramped and he hoped Sherlock woke up soon so he could stretch.
It was as if Sherlock could hear his thoughts, even while he was sleeping, for as soon as the thought crossed John's mind, Sherlock stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "John?" He asked; his voice sleepy and thick.
"I'm here, Sher," John said soothingly, stroking Sherlock's hair.
Sherlock smiled, then, as if realising John was cramped in his embrace, reluctantly released John. John stretched out immediately; smiling as he muscles trembled and felt a heap better. Then he sat up, crossing his legs and staring down at Sherlock.
Sherlock sniffed, and seemed to smell something, because he frowned in confusion. "Ah!" John exclaimed, "Harry brought over some cookies for us and hopes you get better soon," John explained, reaching over and handing Sherlock a cookie.
He studied the cookie for some time. "They're not poisonous, are they?" He looked so sweet and innocent, John couldn't help but smile.
"They're not, trust me. I had a few," John chuckled.
When Sherlock still looked dubious, John sighed and leaned down, taking a bite out of the cookie. "See?" He said, swallowing, "not poisonous."
Sherlock licked his lips, eyes still on John's, and John wondered if he knew that he was doing it. Because it looked really sexy. John stifled his groan and grinned as Sherlock took a tentative bite out of the cookie. His eyes widened in surprise, then he moaned, his eyes shutting as John's had done.
John felt himself harden, but tried desperately to ignore it. It didn't help that this gorgeous hunk of man in front of him was lying down and moaning.
John shook away the mental image that had crept into his head and smiled at Sherlock as he opened his eyes.
"John?" Sherlock asked; his voice curious.
John became weary. "Yes, Sherlock?"
"What did you put in my tea?"
John hid his grin, of course Sherlock had noticed. "Oh, nothing really, just some sleeping pills."
Sherlock nodded his head, as if it all made sense now. He opened his mouth to say more, but then his eyes darted to the door and then closed, head lolling to the side and faking sleep.
Surprised, John frowned, then turned to face the door just in time to see Mycroft enter, and embarrassed looking Greg trailing behind, his face red.
John grinned, things were going good then, if a little fast. He felt a pang of jealously that they had already become so intimate in such a short period of time, but pushed it away. Sherlock wasn't ready to go that fast yet.
John raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "Ah, yes. Straight to the point as always, John," Mycroft commented, subconsciously wrapping an arm around Greg's waist and bringing him closer to Mycroft.
"I just came to see how my little brother was doing, you know how concerned I get over him," Mycroft said, a faraway look coming into his eyes.
John chose his words with care, absently picking up Sherlock's hand to soothe himself and rubbing small circles on the palm with his thumb. "I can assure you Sherlock is safe with me, Mycroft," John said, smiling a hello to Greg.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at John and Sherlock's hands, but didn't otherwise comment. "Yes, well, I know that he is safe with you, but I cannot help but worry. "
John became confused. "What do you mean 'you know that he's safe with me'?"
Mycroft chuckled. "It is very obvious, John Watson, that you care very deeply for my brother, even love, and that you will never let any harm come to him," he explained in a voice that told John it should have been obvious.
It struck John by how similar the brothers are. John cleared his throat, pleased by the compliment. "That is all, we shall leave you now, John. Goodbye, and take care of my brother," Mycroft said.
Mycroft paused in the doorway and looked back at Sherlock. "And next time, brother, do not be so obvious. Your breathing was too hard and too loud, be quieter next time and take deeper breaths."
John chuckled as Sherlock snapped his eyes open and glared at his brother's retreating back. Greg waved goodbye, grinning ecstatically, and John waved back.
"He's annoying," Sherlock murmured childishly, frowning.
"Go back to sleep Sherlock, you'll be better by tomorrow."