Author's note: When someone is talking on the phone, it will appear in italics. Just saying.

Listen to Your 'Transport!'

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not." John pushed Sherlock back onto the sofa. "You're sick, Sherlock, and it's about time you admitted it. With the appalling lack of food and sleep you get, it's no wonder you caught something your immune system couldn't fend off. Drink your tea."

"John," the detective rasped, "I don't see why you're so concerned. It's a transport problem; it'll figure it out itself."

"That's not how it works." John clenched his fists in exasperation. "What your 'transport' needs is for you to rest and actually eat something!"

"For the 573rd time, I don't eat while I'm on a case."

"Much more of this, and I'll take you off the case!"

Sherlock's phone vibrated on the coffee table. He snatched it before it could skitter off the edge, bringing it to his ear.

"Lestrade!" Seeing John glowering, he smiled.

"You sound terrible," the DI commented.

"Nothing serious," he brushed it off.

"Yes, it is-"

He rolled his eyes and held up a hand to silence his friend. "Did you find their headquarters?"

"Right where you said it would be. I've got police cars surrounding the area as we speak. I would ask you to join us, but since you're obviously sick…"

"I told you, I'm-" he was interrupted by several harsh coughs- "perfectly fine."

"Yeah," Lestrade was clearly not buying it, "you sound like the pinnacle of health. Look, don't come if John doesn't think you should. It's raining buckets over here."

"John's fine with it." The detective smirked evilly.

"I am not and you know it!"

"I can hear John, you know."

"On our way," he croaked, hanging up.

"You're not going anywhere." Crossing his arms, John shot his friend his signature I'm-an-army-doctor-so-don't-mess-with-me look. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "NSY can handle this one on their own. You're burning up and you shouldn't be out in that weather. Now. Drink. Your. Tea."

"I'd rather-"another cough- "not." In a flash, he sprang from the couch, dodged John, and sprinted for the door, coughing violently.

John took off after him, knocking over a stack of papers. "Get back here, you stubborn git!" Yeah, because he always obeys you… he thought futilely.

Down the stairs they dashed, Sherlock bolting out the door and slamming it in John's face.

Mrs. Hudson emerged from her flat, hands on her hips. "Now, what's all this commotion about?"

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson!" John wrenched open the door… in time to see his friend collapse onto the sidewalk.

"Sherlock!"

JWJWJW

Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter one! This is inspired and modeled after one of my all-time favorite ACD short stories. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Updates will most likely be far between, but they will come. Thanks for reading!

~JillianWatson1058