For my dear friend TheGameMrsHudsonIsAfoot, who is currently feeling poorly - Get Well Soon my lovely.
John coughed, rubbed his chest, coughed again.
"Can't you keep it quiet John; I'm in the middle of a really delicate experiment with this necrotising muscle."
"Thanks for that, Sherlock." The doctor croaked back as he tried not to scald himself with boiling water. Tea made, and honey added to his hot lemon, he deposited Sherlock's drink at his elbow and shuffled through to the sanctuary of his armchair with his own.
Sherlock lifted his head and listened – yes, he could hear the faint wheezing of John's chest as he tried to get air into his lungs without coughing. He realised his friend was fighting a losing battle, as another fit of coughing overtook him, this time preventing him from drawing breath.
The younger man moved fast, removing the cup of hot liquid from his friend's hand, putting it to one side. His eyes swiftly deduced the other man, seeing he had a headache, blocked nose, and the tightness of his chest was obvious in the way he unconsciously rubbed his chest.
"Why are you this sick? You shouldn't be coughing like this; it's not as if you're a smoker." Sherlock whittled fretfully, chewing his lower lip.
"That has nothing to do with it." John wheezed "Why should you think it does?"
"But John – surely you can see you have bronchitis!"