Sherlock woke up later than was usual for him, when he went to be at all that is. The night before he felt run down and somewhat tired. So after trying to ignore it and experiment for a few hours after John had turned in, Sherlock went to bed as well. When he woke up it was already 11am and John had left the flat. He'd left a not for Sherlock telling him he was out running errands and wouldn't be back until dinner. He also told him to destroy the flat while he was gone.
Sherlock's throat hurt when he swallowed and his head ached. In fact everything ached. He decided he needed tea, perhaps with a bit of honey? So he made his way slowly to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. He pulled down a mug from the cabinet and sat at the table to wait for the water to boil. When he'd prepared his tea he made his way to the couch. Wrapping his dressing gown tightly around him Sherlock sat down and drew his legs up under him. It was then that he realized he had quite a chill. He hunched in on himself as he sipped his tea.
He picked up his cell and texted John. When will you be back? –SH Then he picked up John's laptop off the coffee table and went online. After a couple of minutes Sherlock heard his text tone. He immediately grabbed his phone and opened the message. Left note. Taking care of some things. –John John's response irritated Sherlock. Why would John leave the flat for the day today of all days?! He needed him! He felt rubbish at the moment. John, his doctor, was always on about his habits and his health. But the one time Sherlock actually wanted his assistance John decided to run errands! Unacceptable!
Sherlock sent another text. What time?—SH John's cell went off and he pulled it out of his pocket with a sigh. He knew Sherlock must want something and wouldn't be leaving him alone until he got it. However, when he opened the text he started to feel a bit worried. Sherlock didn't usually ask or say things like that. He sent a reply. By 7pm. Why? Is everything alright? You haven't blown anything up have you?!—John
With slight irritation and a roll of his eyes Sherlock responded The flat is perfectly in tacked John.—SH This sent a warning going off in John's head. Sherlock hadn't said he was fine. He could be shot and still insist he was perfectly fine without batting an eye. The fact that he didn't meant that something was definitely wrong. Sherlock what's the matter? Do you need me to come home now?—John Sherlock had to admit he was a bit taken aback by John's response. How did he know something was wrong? Interesting. Now how did he respond to John's question? Did he wish the doctor to return now? Did he truly want his friend's help? Yes John was his friend though he wouldn't say so out loud. He did feel awful at the moment and John could do something about that if he were here. But if he said yes would John truly stop what he was doing and come back to the flat now? There was only one way to know. I do not….feel well John if you must know—SH
John had to wait several minutes for a response before his phone dinged. When he read the text alarm bells went off for him. Sherlock must feel really rubbish if he were admitting to being ill. He had all but asked John to come home. So he immediately replied I'm on my way. Be there in 20—John When Sherlock saw John's response he felt inexplicably relieved. He had finished his tea by this point so he put his mug on the coffee table. He'd found in the past few minutes that using the laptop intensified his headache and it was hard for him to think properly as well. So he shut it off and set it aside. Checking the time on his phone, he calculated the time John would arrive. He was still terribly cold and could not control his shivering. At this point the cough started.
Sherlock must have drifted off for a short while at that point because the next thing he realized John was next to the couch with his hand on his shoulder trying to wake him. John felt a twinge of unpleasantness when he arrived in the flat to find the detective curled in a ball on the couch shivering violently. His feet were moving before he realized what he was doing and he was on his knees at Sherlock's side. He called him softly and shook his shoulder a bit. John was glad Sherlock had asked him to come home. He couldn't have imagined coming home tonight to find his friend like this knowing he'd been suffering alone all day.
Speaking of his friend, at that moment Sherlock's eyes slowly began to open. John stopped shaking him and waited for his eyes to focus somewhat before saying "Hey. I'm back. How are you feeling?" After a slow blink Sherlock said, "John…You're late. It's been 30 minutes." John had to chuckle at that. It was just so very Sherlock. "Sorry about that mate. But I'm here now. So are you going to tell me what's the matter or do I have to guess?" John said this with a kind smile. Sherlock gave a bit of a pout to him before sitting up on the couch. "I feel unwell John. Obviously." John sighed, "Yes I understand that Sherlock. That's why I'm here. But I need more to go on than that if I'm going to help. Data Sherlock. Symptoms." It was Sherlock's turn to sigh, "I'm cold. Chills. Sore throat. Headache. Muscle Soreness. Does that suffice John?" Smiling at the detective he said, "Yes that'll do. Well first things first. Let's get you back to bed. Come on."
Getting Sherlock under one arm and helping him off the couch, they heading for his bedroom. When they got there John told him to lay down. "Alright I'm going to get you some paracetamol and the thermometer. Be right back." Sherlock just nodded into his pillow. John was back in about 2 minutes and sat on the bed next to Sherlock. He held out the thermometer. "Let's get your temp, yeah?" Sherlock parted his lips a bit and let John put the thermometer in his mouth. A minute or so later the thermometer beeped. "102.7 degrees. A bit not good. Here take these." John gave Sherlock the glass of water he brought and 2 paracetamol. He accepted them and took the pills. He tried to hand the water back to John but he was having none of it. "Nope. Sherlock you need to drink that. You don't want to add dehydration to your problems." The two had a small staring contest before Sherlock consented and drank the rest of the water. "Thank you.", John told him as he took the glass back. "Alright. Try and get some sleep. I'll check on you later. Call me if you need anything though, yeah?" His answer was no more than a fain mumble. With that John headed for the bedroom door.
Just as he was pulling the door closed he heard his name. "What is it Sherlock?" he asked walking back to his friend's side. Sherlock was silent for a few moments then said, "It's still too cold John." The doctor could see that he was huddled under his duvet in the fetal position, shivering. John felt like a bit of an ass for not noticing before. He struggled for a minute with what to do. On the one hand Sherlock had just taken paracetamol so his fever should come down soon so giving him an extra blanket until it broke wouldn't hurt things too much. But on the other hand right now Sherlock DID have a decent fever which extra blanketing would do nothing to help. After another second of thought John came to a decision.
He got up from the bed and said, "Ok. I'll go get you a blanket. Give me a second." John went to the linen closet and grabbed a wool blanket heading back to Sherlock. Back at the detective's side he pulled back the duvet and wrapped him in the blanket. Then he tucked the duvet back around him. "There. That a bit better?" Sherlock burrowed down into the bed before sighing out a yes. "Good. Then get some sleep. I'll stay here for a while." He walked around the bed and settled against the headboard on the other side. Now he may have simply imagined it then but John was almost certain he saw a tiny upturning of Sherlock's lips in that instant.