John get's sick
Chapter 1
Sherlock was looking at the news, thinking. Lestrade wanted him in his office after the lunch and he was waiting for John to lunch. But John was closed on the bedroom.
"John?" Sherlock called.
No sound came from the room. Sherlock put the newspaper on the seat and went to the room. The door was closed, so he knocked at it.
"John? Are you there?"
"Yes, Sherlock…"
"Come on, Lestrade is waiting. We need to lunch."
John opened the door.
"I was dressing. Let's go."
They went to a restaurant.
"I think this case will be very simple. The girl was waiting for the boy, but the boy was with the other. This one killed the boy, because he had a girl… you know. Basic, John! Basic."
John wasn't listening.
"John! Are you listening to me?"
John was gazing at Sherlock, but was obvious that he wasn't listening. His eyes were shiny, but it wasn't normal. His face was too pale and he was some kind of afraid.
"John, are you alright?" Sherlock held his friend's wrist.
He was too cold…
"What? Sorry, I wasn't…" John murmured.
"Nothing… I tell you later. Now, are you okay?"
"Oh…yes, I'm fine. I only…"
"No, you're not fine. Your skin it's cold, you're too pale, and you're gazing at me, not listening…"
"I don't want to bother you… We need to go to Lestrade…"
Sherlock was divided: he needed to solve the case, tell Lestrade about the murderers; but John wasn't very well… he couldn't let his friend…
"Sherlock, go to the office. I go home. Okay?"
John could feel Sherlock's dilemma.
"But, what are you feeling?"
John closed his eyes. Sherlock could see his friend nausea. He hated to be sick, that was terrible… it was very rare, by the way. Sherlock was strong and diseases were afraid of him.
"John…"
"It's nothing, Sherlock. I only need to rest. I don't want to cause you trouble… And I'm fine. Trust me, I'm a doctor."
So, if it was too bad John would say? True? John would notice if it was too bad. Sherlock wouldn't need to be so worried.
"So, go home, John. See you later." Sherlock said goodbye, leaving John in the restaurant.
Minutes later, John left the restaurant and went home. The place was near 221B, so it was no need of a taxi. When he get to the room, he felt to the bed. He was exhausted. He wasn't well. He could feel, he was a doctor and he knew. It was a very hard flu. He needed to go to the doctor (he couldn't medicate himself, nor be examined by himself). But he wanted to help Sherlock… he loved to be in the investigations. He was sick for a week or two, he couldn't precise. But it was getting worse and he feared pneumonia.
It could be the cold, the rain… he was a lot of time in the rain some weeks ago. Sherlock was stronger, but he couldn't tell his friend: "Sorry, I can't help you here, because I would be sick." No. No. No!
And he fell asleep.