I had tossed and turned in bed for way too long, trying to get myself comfortable. I had gotten up to get more blankets, and tried propping myself up against more pillows. I tried laying on my left side, then my back, then my right side, and even my stomach. But no matter what I did, I could not get warm or even remotely comfortable. My throat was dry and itchy, and my head felt like it would explode from all the pressure. No matter what I thought about, I couldn't fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and the bones in the human body. The latter almost always works.

I'd just decided to put my head where my feet should be and prop my feet up on my pillows when my phone went off. I can hear your teeth chattering clear from the sofa. –SH

Sorry to disturb you. I'll try to suffer in silence. –Molly

That's not what my concern was. –SH

Then why did you text me? –Molly Sherlock's motives were always a mystery to me. You think he wants this, but he doesn't. He wants that.

It's my fault you're so sick. You've taken care of me the past month, now it's my turn to take care of you. –SH

My breath caught in my throat, Sherlock seemed to actually care about my wellbeing.

I was typing back, You don't need to. –Molly but before I could hit send, there was a soft knock on my door.

"Come on in." I croaked. God, my throat hurt so badly. Sherlock entered carrying a tray holding a mug of tea almost big enough for me to swim in, a steaming bowl of some form of soup, and a various choice of pills.

"I did some research on your symptoms since I'm not a doctor. Those are the top recommended combination of meds for you to take. The soup is still really hot, so please don't burn your mouth. I would think it would help warm you up a bit though." Sherlock said all this too fast, I could barely follow what he was saying. Or maybe that was just my sickened mind not doing its full job. I was feeling a little light headed.

I muttered a small thank you as he set the tray next to me.

"May I ask why you're in bed backwards?"

"Can't you figure it out on your own?" I managed a small smile.

His face scrunched up in thought. "No. At least I can't come up with any logical reason you're attempting to sleep this way."

"Maybe the reason is illogical." I replied.

The look he gave me was priceless. "But everything has logic to it."

I chuckled at how naïve he was and sipped my tea. It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared. I downed all the pills and looked up, hoping he had satisfied his need to help me out and would leave. I didn't really like him seeing me all gross and bedridden.

He just looked up at me expectantly, "Are you going to eat your soup? It's chicken noodle."

"Not hungry," I was actually a little bit hungry, but I knew Sherlock couldn't cook. I groaned as I thought about the inevitable mess I'd have to clean up in the kitchen since he decided to try his hand at cooking. There had been one incident already where I'd walked in the door earlier than usual to find him covered head to toe in flour after unsuccessfully trying to mix up some cookie dough.

Sherlock looked concerned, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." I turned over.

"Are you sure? You don't look fine." He asked. I felt the weight of the tray being lifted off my bed, and I heard him set it on my bedside table with a soft, dull thud.

I didn't answer, but pulled the blankets tighter around me when I was once again overcome with a fit of chills.

"Are you cold again?" Sherlock asked, but after a moment of consideration added, "Never mind. Obviously you are."

I chuckled, but it soon turned into another coughing fit.

"What can I do?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing," I muttered. "I'm going to be fine. Just need to tough it out."

I felt another weight on my bed and a rush of cold air as the covers were lifted up. I turned my head and watched wide-eyed as Sherlock crawled in beside me.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously. I was in bed… with Sherlock.

"I am sharing body heat. Obviously. To warm a person's body, one is to remove their clothing and lie next to the person, making skin-to-skin contact. Then cover both of their bodies with blankets. You should know this Molly. Survival 101." Sherlock said, pulling off his shirt.

I tried to stay focused, but it was somewhat difficult with Sherlock next to me… in bed… without a shirt… "Sherlock… I appreciate the gesture, but I do not have hypothermia. Therefore you can keep your clothes on. Just sit for a second and think about what you're doing. Please Sherlock, I'll be fine."

He remained silent for a moment, and then seemed content to just wrap his arms around me and pull me tightly against his warm chest. I closed my eyes. If this was a dream, I didn't want it to end. Finally, I was comfortable.

I could feel the meds start to kick and I slowly became more and more drowsy. I was just starting to drift off when I heard him say, "Good night Molly. Sweet dreams."

"G'nigh…" I managed to get out. I was so tired, and my mouth and brain weren't working together. I was finally warming up and I had never been more comfortable in my life. If this was how I was going to get treated when I got sick, I needed to get sick more often.

I thought I felt Sherlock press his lips against my forehead softly, but I'm pretty sure I dreamed that. He may have been willingly to cuddle with me to keep me warm, but I was sure he wouldn't bother with any form of "sentiment" and kiss my forehead. That wasn't something Sherlock would do.

I've been on a roll lately. c:

You guys should feel lucky I haven't been making you wait as long for the next chapter.

I just had a lot of spare time today...

Next chapter will be up as soon as it's done!

Leave your reviews! Good or bad! Thanks! c: