I think I'm a little overdue in my well-wishes, but to the 3 whom I've dedicated this to, hope you're all well and better now! (yes, you should all be better by now -.-")
"Molly; here."
Molly looked up, sniffing hard, to two pieces of tissues that were at level with her eyes. Her gaze ran upwards; from the tissues to the fingers holding them to the arm and up to Sherlock's calm face.
"What's this for?" she asked, frowning at him as he took a seat beside her on the grass patch.
"To wipe your nose with, obviously; you're a sight to behold," he said, referring to her red nose and bloodshot eyes, due to hours of sneezing her (metaphorical) head off.
She rolled her eyes and took them, muttering a 'thank you' to him, and blew her nose. Then Sherlock took out a bottle of liquid medicine and a plastic spoon from his jacket pocket and handed them to her. "Drink this."
She obeyed, and grimaced at the bitter taste. When she was feeling slightly better and confident that her nose would not suddenly itch, she clarified her earlier question, her voice nasal, "No, I mean - why're you being nice? The tissue papers, and the medicine. Do you want something?"
"Can't I help you in times of need?"
"I didn't need your help."
"You didn't, but obviously your nose and immune system do."
Molly wiped her nose with the tissues while Sherlock stared at her. "Yes?" she asked after a moment.
"You are right; I do want something."
"You do?" she said worriedly, not knowing how she could help him, given her current state.
"Yes." He looked out to the horizon and the setting sun. "I want you to get well soon."