I decided to do my first real Sherlock sick!fic and have chosen to make it a multi-chapter! I usually would make Sherlock the sick one, but I decided to challenge myself and make John the sick one instead. I only hope it pays off (crosses fingers). First chapter is a bit short, sorry about that, I just consider it an epilogue anyway. Hopefully they will get a little longer. I will update as soon as I can, but I have no set schedule.

Disclaimer; yeah, I don't own anything.

Well, without further ado, here it is!

John felt like death.

There was literally no other explanation for it. He was tired, weak, a bit cold, and dear lord did he mention tired? He nearly fell asleep at his desk in the surgery (again) and only the thought of going home and resting kept him awake. He checked his watch every few minutes but time seemed to slow down and hours felt like millennia. Finally – after what felt like eternity – the clock said 8:30 and his shift ended. He grabbed his coat off of the rack and put it on with a deep sigh.

"You alright there, Dr. Watson?" The receptionist asked, tapping her pen against the table.

He put on a fake smile and rubbed his neck.
"Yeah, just a bit tired."

She scoffed and ran a hand through her hair.
"I understand that completely. Can't wait to go home and kip by the fireplace myself...Oh dear, I'm making myself tired. Have a good night, John."

John laughed.
"You too, Gloria."

He waved and made his way outside in a hurry, hopping in the first empty cab he saw. he quickly muttered his address and focused on not falling asleep on the way home.

Upon arriving to Baker Street he fished through his wallet and passed a couple quid at the driver and slowly made his way up the stairs. When he got up there he had only two things on his mind. A) he was going to make himself some tea, and B) he was going to sleep. For a very long time.

When he reached the top of the stairs he saw Sherlock staring at the wall where he had papers and photos lined up for his latest case.

John sighed.
"I see you've been busy..." He mumbled, heading to the kitchen to make his tea.

Sherlock hummed a reply and continued to focus on the paper covered wall.

John rolled his eyes and cleaned off the stove and turned on the kettle.
"You could clean up your mess when you're done experimenting, y'know." He grumbled, rinsing out empty test tubes and throwing away mouldy cheese.

"Busy." Sherlock huffed, looking through a case folder.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"You didn't have a case this morning. When did Lestrade come by?"

"After you left, obviously."

John sighed and poured some water into his cup, grabbing a tea bag and setting it in the freshly boiled water.

"Milk and sugar for me." Sherlock called out with a little more volume.

John rolled his eyes.
"You could ask."

"I just did." Sherlock said defensively.

Seriously? He was too tired for this.
"That wasn't asking, Sherlock, that was demanding."

Sherlock sighed.
"Can you put milk and sugar in my tea?"

Oh, close enough. John poured a second cup, put milk and sugar in it, and passed it to the detective.
"There. Drink your tea and keep the noise down. I'm going to bed."

He set his empty cup in the sink and walked to the door.

"John?" Sherlock asked, causing him to turn around.

"Yeah?" He mumbled. He was just so tired...

"It's only 9:00." Sherlock pointed out, as if it were significant.

John sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"I'm...I'm tired, alright? I just need some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

A/N; again, sorry about the length. Will grow longer as plot progresses.