This is an old fic I wrote many many years ago in response to a prompt from someone. I'm surprised I actually still have it. My laptop has stopped working and it looks like computer will soon follow, so I'm trying to upload all my old files online somewhere so I don't lose them. This was meant to be in 4 parts but I can't be bothered uploading 4 different documents so here it is in one go. My writing wasn't as good years ago so sorry if it sucks. And naturally, I won't be continuing.
The first time was during a very difficult case. Every inmate of a high security prison had mysteriously gone missing, and naturally Lestrade called in Sherlock and John. As always, Sherlock solved it with ease, and his deductions eventually led them to an abandoned warehouse. John wasn't all too surprised when they found the mangled bloody corpses of the inmates scattered across the floor, conveniently disposed of. However, what he did find surprising was Sherlock's reaction.
John was busy scanning the room for any inmates that might still be alive when he suddenly heard Sherlock fall to his knees beside him.
"Sherlock, what is it?"
Sherlock muttered something incoherent, probably along the lines of "feel dizzy" then proceeded to collapse to the floor completely. To people who had never met Sherlock Holmes before, this might not have seemed shocking given the gruesome state of the bodies before them. But John knew full well that Sherlock wasn't the kind of person to get squeamish. No matter what the state of the body, Sherlock would always carry out his deductions with an incredible amount of enthusiasm.
Later that night, when Sherlock had regained consciousness and was safely back in 221B Baker Street, he immediately engulfed himself in yet another experiment. John stood in front of Sherlock with his arms folded, patiently waiting for an explanation. A few minutes passed and Sherlock said nothing.
"You want to tell me what that was back there?"
Sherlock still didn't look up. He simply continued staring intently at some unknown substance through his microscope. John let out an aggravated sigh and walked away. It was true that Sherlock was not the kind of person to feel ill at the sight of blood, but the corpses had been in a far worse state than any they had seen previously. Furthermore, the foul smell and heat might also be responsible for Sherlock's sudden fainting. In any case, John wasn't going to get any answers out of him so he pushed his concerns to the back of his mind.
The second time was a few days later, during a far more boring case; At least in Sherlock's opinion. He hadn't wanted to take the case at first, calling it mundane and trivial. He finally was convinced into taking the case when John made it very clear he couldn't put up with anymore of Sherlock's crazy experiments.
A large amount of money had been stolen from a bank and the money was very simple to track down, but the armed criminals that had taken it were not so easy to deal with. John soon found himself running along stretching corridors, desperately trying to find where Sherlock had run off to (while taking down some of the thugs along the way). When John finally found Sherlock lying on his back collapsed in an empty room, John feared the worst and thought he might just collapse himself. John ran over to Sherlock and immediately checked him over. He was shocked to find no blood, no visible wounds anywhere. John tried to gently shake Sherlock awake. After a few minutes passed Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at John with a dull expression. He clearly wasn't fully conscious yet. It was at this point when John finally lost it. He took Sherlock's face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. Sherlock's was burning up with a fever.
"Sherlock, please! Snap out of it! I can't lose you!"
After that, John waited for the ambulance crew to check Sherlock over. He tried to ignore the muttered conversation between Anderson and Donovan. He thought he heard them say something like "I knew they were together!" but chose to dismiss it. Sherlock discharged himself from the paramedics care and began to briskly walk away from the crime scene. He muttered something about the case not being worth his time and the police being unbearably incompetent, and then ordered John to follow him. Like always, John simply walked after him trying to keep up.
When they returned to Baker Street, John considered questioning Sherlock about his second fainting episode. This wasn't like Sherlock at all and what possible reason could he have for passing out this time? But then John remembered the overly affectionate way he had pressed his hands against Sherlock's flushed cheeks. And then there was the strange response he had blurted out in panic. "I can't lose you." Why on earth had he said that? If John wanted to discuss the fainting with Sherlock, he would inevitably have to discuss his reaction as well. John glanced over at Sherlock, who was sprawled out across the sofa, his eyes closed deep in concentration. He took this as a subtle message that he didn't want to discuss it either. So to save himself any awkwardness he once again pushed his concerns to the back of his mind.
It was the third time it happened when John could no longer deny that something was seriously wrong. The day after the bank break-in case, John had left Sherlock alone in the flat that morning to get shopping. They were out of milk (as well as a great deal of other things) yet again, and Sherlock was definitely showing no signs of intending to get it. When John returned he found Sherlock in his dressing gown lying on his side on the floor, his body surrounded by broken glass from his various science equipment. John rushed forward in a panic leaving the shopping discarded by the door.
"Sherlock, can you hear me? Please answer me!"
John's eyes widened when he saw the same pale complexion and flushed cheeks from the two previous times. Something was wrong. Something was most definitely wrong.
He struggled to get Sherlock off the floor and to the sofa. Even after he made his best friend as comfortable as he could, Sherlock was still showing no signs of waking up. John pressed a cold damp towel to Sherlock's forehead, desperately trying to bring his fever down. He could tell Sherlock was severely dehydrated. But he couldn't call for an ambulance could he? Sherlock would surely go mad if he woke up in a hospital bed. There was Mycroft. But maybe that was even worse? After all, the Holmes brothers seemed to have a very tense and strained relationship.
In these few minutes of panic, a very strange idea came across John's mind. He wasn't sure how or why but John suddenly found himself drinking a large amount of water without swallowing, then leaning over Sherlock trying to pass the liquid on through mouth to mouth. Sherlock's eyes slowly opened as he felt water entering his mouth, and John's lips pressed against his own.
"John..."
Sherlock murmured weakly, water running down his chin. John didn't care how awkward this seemed. He was too relieved.
"Thank God...you woke up."
Sherlock spent the next few hours resting on the sofa with John sitting close beside him. John was eager to get Sherlock seen to but his flatmate was adamant that it wouldn't be necessary. During this time, John reflected on recent events and realised he had started falling in love with his best friend. When Sherlock's fever had finally cooled down and he was fully awake, John sat down next to him. He knew the following conversation was going to be awkward but it had to be said.
"Why didn't you tell me? You are obviously ill."
"Being a doctor I thought you might of noticed."
John winced at the sarcastic comment. But he wasn't letting this pass.
"Listen, about that kiss..."
"No need to explain John. You did it because I was dehydrated. I am actually very grateful."
"Yes, but I could of just as easily poured the water into your mouth"
Sherlock said nothing. He simply gazed down at the floor, as if he wasn't really listening. John sighed. He was going to have to spell this out.
"Do you ever take notice of what other people say? About us? How they all imply we are an item?"
"As I have said before, people do little else but gossip idly. I've heard similar rumours regarding my brother and Lestrade."
John gave Sherlock a quizzical look. It was unusual for him to bring up Mycroft or talk about people's relationships. Was he purposely trying to change the subject?
"Let's not go into that... Do you ever think maybe there is some truth in what people say? Maybe they are right about our relationship?"
Sherlock continued to stare down at the floor, never once making eye contact. John forcefully turned Sherlock's face to look at him.
"Are you listening? I am trying to say I love you."
John then leaned forward and gently kissed Sherlock. But Sherlock didn't pull away like he expected. Instead, he made an effort to kiss back before slowly leaning back. They stared at each other for a while before Sherlock broke the silence.
"Your theory might be right. Although I don't usually take any interest in rumours and gossip from other people, there are always some cases where there is some truth behind them."
There was an awkward pause before Sherlock rolled in his eyes in frustration.
"I am trying to say I love you too."
John slid his arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close. Sherlock lent into his touch, his head resting against John's shoulder.
"Does this mean you will see a doctor for me?"
Another awkward pause. Then a sigh. Then Sherlock broke the silence again.
"OK"
They both smiled and held each other's hand. A simple gesture but with a strong meaning. No matter what it was that was causing Sherlock's fainting, they would both be fine.