His head was very heavy and his knees felt like made from jelly, but he was much more himself than half an hour ago. The long hot shower makes miracles. John entered the living room and realised his eccentric flatmate is already up sitting on the sofa deep in thoughts about God-knows-what.
„Morning" John mumbled and carefully walked towards the kitchen to have his morning cuppa. His head was still spinning a bit, but he was sure he could manage. The kettle clicked and John sat at the table lifting the papers.
„You are ill." John almost fell down from the chair - he didn´t hear Sherlock coming to the kitchen. He was now standing at the table watching John very intently.
„You are ill, indeed." Sherlock repeted - and it was not a question - just a simple statement.
„No, I´m fine. I´m just tired, becouse SOMEBODY was bored and felt the need to practice Tchaikovsky´s violin concerto till 3 in the morning so I didn´t have much sleep, did I?."
Sherlock didn´t move an inch and was still starring at John.
„No, you didn´t sleep very well, but I doubt there is Tchaikovsky to blaim. Your hair is dampf but you never wash your hair in the morning so you must have felt uncomfortable after the all night sweating and decided to take a hot shower, maybe you hoped it would help to free your blocked nasal cavity too and it worked for a while. You even took some medication, I heard you look in your medical bag, I guess it was some ibuprofen sice you´re allergic to paracetamol. And than - of course- you look ill. Pale, red eyes, running nose, flushed cheeks. So, obvious-you are sick. Go back to bed."
John Watson was a very patient man. Actually anybody who wants to live with Sherlock Holmes must be incredibly patient. But at some point, even John started to loose it. And this was one of those moments. He hated being seen though and through not being able to hide anything. No privacy at all.
„Or maybe I just took the shower because-I don´t know - I am fanatic hygiene-fan? Or I wanted to drown myself in the shower? For God´s sake, Sherlock! Why do you even care. Let me give you a little piece of advise - Mind your own bussines and don´t try to pretend..."speaking he furiosly stand up from the chair and than, suddenly, everything went black.
Of course Sherlock saw this coming. He knew John is about to faint seconds before it happened. John´s unconscious body safely landed in Sherlock´s open arms and was carefully lowered down to the floor. The first two buttons on John´s shirt were opened and his legs were propped against the chair.
The first thing John saw after he woke up was his friend´s frowning face in a very close proximity, because Sherlock was kneeling beside him.
„Sherlock?"
„John...Don´t worry. You were unconscious for exactly 8.5 seconds and I don´t anticipate any long time effects. Can you follow my finger, please." Sherlock showed his middle finger right before John´s eyes as in a standard neurological exam moving it right, left, up and down. John was a bit confused, but obeyed.
„Good. Neurologicaly intacted. Well obviosly there are many things wrong with your brain, but we´ll consider this a pre-existing condition."
„Sherlock, what the hell is going on?" John finally managed to form a sentence.
„Hmm..." Sherlock now pressed his fingers against John´s carotid and checked his clock.
„Basicaly - you fainted and I´m taking your pulse to see if there is any real danger. Hmm...elevated. You need to calm down, John."
„OK. This is just ridiculous. I have to go to work. My head was spinning a bit, but I just need a proper breakfast and I´ll be as good as new." John replied and struggled back on his feet. But he was stopped by a storng hand on his shoulder, which pressed him back to the floor.
„Easy, easy. You know what will happen if you try to get up to early and too fast, don´t you, DOCTOR?"
John had to admitt he still felt very weak. Maybe getting up wasn´t such a great idea after all.
„You know, John, I always thought you are not this obvious. You know how I hate people being obvious." Sherlock continued.
„Sorry, what?"
„You know, this whole cliché thing about doctors being the worst patients, I hoped you would be more original - or at least innovative...Well one can´t have everything. At least promise you will go straight to bed."
John was still pinned to the floor by Sherlock´s strong grip so he had no real chance to refuse, but somhow bed sounded very pleasant right now. He nodded.
„Fine. Ready to get up now? Very slowly. Let me help." Sherlock stretched one hand to help John up and the other hand was ready behind John´s shoulder not really touching him but ready to steady him if there was the need. He led John slowly to his bedroom watching his every step.
„Get changed. I´ll be right back." Sherlock said and left John sitting on the bed.
A few minutes later Sherlock was happy to find John in his pyjamas lying under the duvet.
„Finally." he commented and placed a mug of steaming tea and John´s medical bag on the night-table. Than he sat on the bed next to John and made the most bored face he was capable of.
„I hate to do this. But sice you are clearly uncapable of taking care of yourself, I have to. So please be honest and quick, I have other things to do than this mother-henning you. So tell me what hurts?"
John was a bit shocked. But he felt really sick and honestly, it was great to have someone asking and caring.
„Head, spine, muscles. And I have chills."
„What about nausea? Dizziness?"
„Oh yes. So what is it ,doctor Holmes? Do I have a cold?"
„Come on, John. Don´t be such a teenager. We both know you do. The question is how to ease your symptoms the best. Open up."
Sherlock retrieved a digital thermometer from John´s bag and placed it under his friend´s tongue. They waited a few silent moments till the thermometer beeped and Sherlock checked the reading.
„38.6. What medication are you on?"
„Iboprofen, 400mmg an hour ago."
„OK, that should do the trick for now. I´ll be back in two hours with another dosage and some lunch. Try to get some sleep I´ll be downstairs so if there is anything just text me."
He got up to leave the room and John felt his cheeks blushing and it was not just the fever.
„Thank you, Sherlock." he said weakly.
„You´re welcome. I´d be lost without my blogger."