Hello slash friends. I'm back! I hope you all had a brilliant X mas and New Years. :D xxx. Anyway I'm writing this to get back into writing things. Do not despair I will update Kings of Infinite Space soon...honestly. Basically this story is a serious of drabbles each chapter corresponding to a letter of the alphabet. Hope you like it.
A if for Alphabet Spaghetti
Sherlock was ill. More ill then he had been in his entire life. It had started of innocently enough, wading into the Thames to collect a key piece of evidence for the latest case, he had thought nothing of it till he was laying on the sofa later with John and he felt slightly dizzy and had a distinctly odd feeling in his nose. That became a sniffle, then full blown flu. He spent the next few days in his pyjamas and blue dressing gown, becoming more and more irritable.
John was the one trying to nurse him back to health, his boyfriend given the impossible task of convincing him that no, he really was not dying.
'Take these' John instructed, trying to hand Sherlock a glass of water and some flu tablets.
'No, they slow me down' Sherlock refused, even we John tried to pin Sherlock down and force him to swallow the tablets, Sherlock simply spat them out.
The flu continued its assault to Sherlock's body. He had a runny nose, a blinding headache, sore throat, he felt sick and lethargic, all he could do all day was lie on the sofa all day with his head in John's lap. The more John tried to force Sherlock to take some medicine the more Sherlock refused.
'You've lost a lot of weight, you really need to eat something' John cooed running his hand through Sherlock's curls. He rooted around the kitchen's cupboards searching through various scientific experiments for something remotely edible.
Sherlock however, was not playing fair. 'You know I cannot eat John, it will slow me down'
'Please Sherlock' He found a loaf of bread and a tin of alphabet spaghetti.
To a chorus of violent coughing he made tea.
'What is this?' Sherlock poked at the spaghetti with the edge of his fork.
'Spaghetti on toast, my mum used to make it for me when I was ill'
'Why is the spaghetti in the shape of letters?' Sherlock asked, genuinely confused.
John shrugged 'It's just a bit of fun Sherlock' He watched as his boyfriend began to play about with the spaghetti pieces.
'F...U...C...Sherlock that is not funny' John scolded, but Sherlock grinned. The food soon turned cold, with the toast becoming soggy under the tomato sauce.
'That's it Sherlock, I've had enough, all I have tried to do the past few days is take care of you, it's impossible!' John folded his arms over his chest in annoyance. Sherlock frowned, he had upset John, he was a difficult man at the best of times and the flu had only made him worse. He continued to move letters about on the toast. When he was finished he pushed the plate along the table so it was in front of John. One slice of toast read 'Sherlock is sorry' the other 'Sherlock loves John' John smiled the 'I think you're mental but all is forgiven' smile. John got out of his chair and fetched the flu tablets and a glass of water.
'Please' he pleaded. Sherlock winced but took the medicine, opening his mouth afterwards so John could see he had swallowed them. They kissed gently and spent the rest of the evening watching crap on TV.