Thanks to MapleLeafCameo for looking over this for me and making some good suggestions. Also, I don't own them so I can't profit from writing about them.
With the curtains drawn closed against the sunshine, the room was dark. Any remaining outside noise was muffled by the hum of a humidifier. Two figures lay buried under a duvet. The shorter of the two men began to stir.
After months of sharing the same sleeping space, John had become accustomed to Sherlock's snoring. With clogged sinuses the detective's volume level had increased dramatically. Rubbing his own stuffy nose, John shook his lover's shoulder with a free hand.
"Sherlock," A soft grown answered him, "Sherlock love, you've got to turn onto your side."
Instead of moving from his back to his left side so he was facing away from John, Sherlock moved towards his doctor.
"If you start snoring again don't blame me when I smother you with a pillow," John warned.
Sherlock snorted as much as he could with a nose full of mucus. "There are two reasons why you would never follow through with such a threat."
"Oh really?"
"Yes," Sherlock answered smugly. "The first reason is because you love me too much and would be upset should anything happen to me. The second is you simply don't have the energy or strength right now to hold the pillow down hard enough."
Before John could come back with a snarky remark he was forced to grab a tissue to cover a sneeze. He then tossed the used item into the waste bin before grabbing another just in case. Sneezes always seemed to come in pairs and John was once again glad he had thought to buy tissues with calendula. The end of his nose was sore enough as it was.
He looked back to his bed partner and saw Sherlock drinking some water from a glass John had forced him to keep nearby. This was the third day the two men had been sick with a bad head cold. The first few days they had both been stubborn and continued to work as normal.
It wasn't until Sarah had pushed him out the clinic's front door, with the command he not return for at least three days, that John had given in. A call directly after, from Lestrade complaining about Sherlock sneezing on evidence had been enough to get John to the crime scene and forcibly drag the complaining genius home.
The struggle had ended when a coughing fit had let Sherlock more exhausted then before. Taking advantage of the seconds he had, John flagged down a cab and shoved his lover inside.
Once back at Baker Street the two men had trudged up the stairs to their flat, dropped their coats onto the sofa and headed into the bedroom. John had handed the dirty glasses to Sherlock to set in the sink and told him to get fresh ones. While alone in the bedroom, John had made certain all the used tissues were in the waste bin and pulled off their sheets. By the time Sherlock returned, the two men were able to put on fresh sheets.
Sherlock wanted to drop into bed right then but John had told him he wasn't allowed under the duvet until he had eaten, taken medicine and cleaned off the crime scene germs. With little grumbling, Sherlock had stripped and headed to the shower. While Mrs. Hudson's chicken soup heated on stove, John had quickly sent Lestrade a text telling him Sherlock was unavailable until further notice and shut off their mobiles.
After eating and taking medicine, John put Sherlock to bed and made certain the humidifier had water before showering himself. By the time he got back to bed, Sherlock was dozing. They'd been able to sleep for nearly ten hours before the detective's snores had woken John up.
Looking to his left, John saw Sherlock looking at him.
"What?"
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock said, "I asked if you wanted to have sex."
John knew he must have misunderstood because of the state of his fuzzy head. "I know I must have heard you wrong. It sounded to me like you just asked me if I wanted to have sex."
"Well I wouldn't mind a reduction of the stress on my body right now caused by this ridiculous cold and the rush of oxytocin that accompanies orgasm-"
John cut Sherlock off, "Well if that isn't seduction at its best I don't know what is. After all, the lovely song of the humidifier and the germ infested tissues that have missed the waste bin really put a romantic feel on the bedroom. And if that wasn't enough you could open the curtains and let the medicine bottles colour the walls."
"Yes John, I think you've made your point." Sherlock scowled. "I hate feeling sick."
"I'm not exactly having fun myself."
Sherlock grunted.
"Why don't we get up, use the toilet, take some more medicine and try and sleep a little more?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to complain.
"I know you want to be dashing about showing everyone how brilliant you are but your body needs to rest no matter what you think."
John leaned into Sherlock's side.
"And if we feel better later we can watch some Doctor Who while we're snuggled up on the sofa."
Sherlock reached over for John's hand. "Then, if we feel better tomorrow, can we have sex?"
Chuckling, John answered, "If we are feeling better tomorrow, I promise I will ravish you until you come not once but twice."
Sherlock gave a quick kiss to John's cheek before getting out of bed. "Well then, you had best see what Mrs. Hudson has left in our refrigerator while I use the toilet. We must do what we can to recover from these viruses as quickly as possible."
John smiled as he followed Sherlock out the door and made his way to the kitchen. Once they were healthy again he had every intention of planting the idea of sex up to three times a week to fight off colds into the genius' mind. Granted there were those who disagreed but if it got John sex during a case then he was all for it.