Title:Influenza
Rating:PG
Warning:Nothing to warn of, but if something is brought to my attention, this will change.
Notes: This fanfic was requested of me by an anonymous person. So, anon, here you go. This was edited slightly for punctuation and grammar because my beta doesn't watch Sherlock.
Summary: Sherlock gets the flu, and John has to take care of him. It turns out Sherlock can't really keep his cool when ill.
The flu. Sherlock had the flu, of all things. One would think that Sherlock, the man with such a keen power of deduction, would keep himself well and rested. But no, Sherlock did not, and that left John to care for him. Sunday night, the fever came.
"John? John. Get the thermometer."
Sherlock sounded stuffy and whiny, so John grabbed the thermometer that he was sure to not have touched human or animal remains and headed to Sherlock's bedroom. John slowly opened the door, and almost giggled at what he found. It was Sherlock, wrapped head to toe in warm clothing. He kicked a blanket off himself before sitting up.
"Sherlock? Are you alright?"
The sick man looked at John as if there were a bird on his head. John knew the man was ill, he could hear it in Sherlock's voice. But, honestly, John just liked to mess with Sherlock.
"Of course I'm not alright. I have probably what is a high fever, chills, and I'm sweating."
John set the thermometer on Sherlock's side table and went to the kitchen for a cold pack. Even from the kitchen, the doctor could hear Sherlock whining to himself.
"Sherlock, don't try to move around. Stay in bed and rest. Doctor's orders."
A loud groan echoed through the flat. John rolled his eyes. He grabbed an ice bag from one of the drawers next to the refrigerator, and opened the ice box. John subconsciously ignored the human tongues left in a jar to scoop ice into his ice bag. He twisted the cap closed tightly as he entered Sherlock's room.
"You know what I say, John? Screw the bloody doctor."
John smirked, because it was absolutely adorable how Sherlock got angry when he was sick. But both he and Sherlock knew that, in the end, it was all in good fun. John was used to Sherlock's remarks, especially after dating him for almost a year.
But it was John who made the first move, because Sherlock surely wouldn't have. Somehow, John fell hopelessly in love with Sherlock. Someone that knew Sherlock would have probably thought "well, that is just absurd, because Sherlock would use the power of deduction to realize that something was up with John." But after being consulting detective partners with Sherlock for so long, John figured out how to hide things from his friend. But after a while, John got sick of pretending, and just asked Sherlock on a date once and for all. Sometimes, John thinks back to that first date. But Sherlock shifted, and brought John back to attention.
"You'd enjoy that though. There's no fun in that!"
Sherlock groaned loudly at John. He rolled from his back to his side to face John.
"Just take my bloody temperature and make me well again."
John sighed, but stuck the thermometer in Sherlock's mouth. The man tried speaking, but was promptly shushed.
"No speaking while the thermometer is in your mouth, Sherlock. It makes the reading inaccurate."
Impatiently, Sherlock waited until the thermometer beeped. John took it from Sherlock's mouth, and looked at it. He shook his head.
"You have a fever. No more kissing until you get better."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, and John raised an eyebrow in response.
"You are very unkind when you take control as a doctor."
John kissed Sherlock's forehead despite his own orders. Sherlock tried lifting his face to catch John's lips with his own, but failed.
"It used to be my job, Sherlock. Now I get to take care of you. Can't have too much fun on the job!"
Sherlock sighed loudly, and attempted to roll out of bed. A firm hand pressed against his chest as to stop him.
"No, Sherlock, you have the flu. Stay in bed, and I'll make you some soup. Just get some rest."
"When you're sick, I'll treat you just as unfairly."
"Sherlock, when I get sick, I take care of myself. I'm a doctor."
Sherlock made a face at John and puffed his pillow up.
"Fine. When you need my expertise on something, I'll deny you of affection just as you've done."
John smiled lovingly at Sherlock, and shook his head.
"I'm sure you will, Sherlock. I'm sure you will."