It's barely 3 a.m. when John awakens. The sound of coughing and a rather bad sneezing fit is coming from Sherlock's room. Johns sighs as he gets up. " I told him he was out in that rain too long. I told him he would get sick, but nope."

As he walks into Sherlock's room, and he flicks on the light. "Sherlock reacts like a vampire. " Turn the blasted thing off!" Sherlock shields his eyes.

John isn't paying any attention to Sherlock as he heads out. " I'll get you some cold medicine."

"I'm not sick!" Sherlock says between coughs.

"Yeah, tell that to your cold, Sherlock."

When John comes back, Sherlock is pacing the room. " My brain is clogged and won't work. If I lay down, my nose gets too stuffy, but if I sit up, it's all runny. Is it warm in here? "

John touches Sherlock's forehead. " You are burning up. Back to bed." John guides his friend back to the bed.

" Didn't you just hear me? I get worse!" Sherlock whines, but flops down dramatically.

John rubs his own forehead. " Your such a drama queen."

A frustrated Sherlock looks at John. " Well, heal me."

" I thought you weren't sick.," John says, trying to suppress his giggle.

Sherlock huffs and rolls his eyes. " I can't be sick, but if I am, I need to be cured quickly. I don't have time to be sick."

John simply shakes his head at the restless Sherlock. " Take the medicine twice, every six hours. No more than two pills, got it? There is also some cough medicine in the loo. If that cough continues to keep you awake, take it. I'm going back to bed."

"What? You're leaving me!"

" I'm pretty sure all you have is a cold." John yawns. " If your fever gets higher or you feel worse, and I mean your actually worse not because your bored, then wake me up."

The minute John turns his back, Sherlock whines.

" Did you just whine?"

Sherlock nods no. John lets out another sigh and leaves.

Not long after John's eyes flicker open and he sees Sherlock staring back at him. " What the hell?"

"Oh good, you're awake!"

" Do you know how creepy that is?"

Sherlock pays him no mind and sits on his bed. "Just make yourself at home," John says, sarcastically.

" Thank you."

" I was being sarcas- oh never mind. Are you feeling worse?"

" Yes and no. I don't feel better, yet I don't care. I think I took too much medicine." Sherlock puts a finger to his mouth. " Shhh, don't tell John."

John rubs the sleep from his face. "How much did you take? "

"Five pills, I think."

" Anything else?"

" I might not have used a spoon for the cough syrup."

"What did you use?"

"My better judgment."

John groans.

" Seems my better judgment was not the better choice."

" You're probably high. I can take you to the A&E, if you want."

" I don't think I took a life threatening amount." Sherlock pinches John's cheek. " You're very pretty, don't tell John I said that though."

" I am - okay. Who am I? Just wondering."

" Lestrade, of course. I knew you were a bit clueless, but to not know who you are? Tsk, tsk."

John leans over to touch Sherlock's forehead." Your still a little hot, but not like before."

" That's not what you usually say." Sherlock snorts.

" I don't even want to know."

Sherlock gets into the bed and snuggles close to John.

" Right when I think this can't get any more awkward."

Sherlock giggles. "This brings back memories."

Sherlock's face turns sad. " I'm sorry I used you in those early days. I used your attraction to me to my advantage. John would be so disappointed in me if he knew. It's just I'd do anything for a fix or a case back then. It's just I didn't think highly of you. You were a means to an end. Trust me, I'm paying for my sins. Surely you've seen me around John, right? You must know I'm suffering. I'm in your shoes now; I'm in love with someone who doesn't love me."

He kisses John's shoulder. " Care for a pity fuck?"

John's completely frozen by his confession.

He regains enough composure to croak out a 'no'. John looks over at his friend to see he has passed out. John carefully maneuvers himself out of his own bed. He rubs his temple. This was definitely information overload. He goes out to the kitchen and hunts down a beer. As he gulps it down he replays the night's major confessions.

1.) Lestrade and Sherlock were former lovers. How did he not see that?

2.) Sherlock was in love with him. How did he really not see that?

Then there was option number three: Sherlock was obviously very sick and over medicated, so could he really take anything coming out of his mouth seriously? Until he gets more information about Lestrade and Sherlock's past together, he decides that it's all just misunderstood nonsense.

But deny as he might, a seed has been planted in his head.