As it turned out, what Sherlock had stubbornly told himself was a cold, seemed to be something worse. And by something worse, he guessed that it was flu. Stomach flu, which was the reason he was again knelt over the toilet, hands braced against the cold porcelain, struggling to catch his breath and quell the nausea.
It had gone past sundown by the time he'd arrived to Mycroft's apartment, and a tilt of his arm to check the time now showed that it was just past midnight. No wonder he felt so tired.
A knock on the door would have startled him, but seeing as how one did not announce the man that rounded into the en suite, Sherlock flinching hard enough to unsettle his stomach again wasn't unexpected. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and glared up at Mycroft, pulling himself into a slightly more dignified position. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"
"Why?" Mycroft asked. "I have seen it all before. In worse circumstances, usually."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, falling onto his backside to slump against the cabinets. "And still similar symptoms. Drenched in sweat and draped over the toilet." He rubbed at his mouth vigorously, hiding the wry smile, and thumped his head back against the cabinet. "What are you doing here, Mycroft?"
"Can't I come check on my sick little brother?"
Sherlock scoffed. "It's past midnight and you haven't changed for bed."
"Sick, yet as perceptive as ever." Mycroft stepped into the bathroom. "I was working, if you must know. I heard you vomiting down the hall." The tap ran for a moment and he held a cup of water down to him.
Sherlock sighed slightly, but took it with still trembling fingers. "Sorry that I can't heave more quietly." He swallowed a few more mouthfuls, scraping his tongue against his teeth. "I need a toothbrush."
"I'll have someone fetch one."
"Right. As if you'd have extra ones here." Sherlock pushed himself, wobbling, to his feet. "No one ever stays here overnight."
"By that respect, you'd have no reason to have extras, either."
"Mm." Sherlock swallowed another gulp of water. "Not true. John has a spare, so does Mary. And I keep others in case the Janine situation happens again."
Mycroft sighed. "Of course you would keep toothbrushes for your fake girlfriends, boyfriends, and one night stands."
"Of course. It's personal hygiene." He wrinkled his nose. "I definitely wouldn't want to kiss them if they didn't brush their teeth."
Mycroft smiled slightly. "Of course not. How could I think otherwise?"
"I don't know." Sherlock set the cup down and washed his hands painstakingly, drying them on his pyjamas. "I'm going back to bed."
"I should think so," Mycroft replied. "I'll have some of your things brought over from Baker Street."
"Who said I was staying?" Sherlock muttered, although he knew it was true; he wouldn't go anywhere if he ran the risk of making a fool of himself. The stomach flu needed to edge off, just a little, before he could trust his stomach enough to put himself into a cab. Unless Mycroft offered a car. Which he wasn't.
"Maybe a day or two away from the toxic waste dump will help to improve your state of health."
"My flat is clean," Sherlock retorted. "Mrs Hudson cleans it."
"Right. Well. You got sick from somewhere."
Sherlock tottered his way back to the bed, somewhat irked by his brother dogging his every step. And yet he said nothing about it, irritation only outwon by the urge to get back into the warm bed that was waiting for him.
He did speak, however, once he had collapsed back into the bed in question. "Are you gonna stay there all night?" he intoned, voice muffled into the pillow he had dropped his face into.
"Pardon?"
Sherlock groaned softly, turning his head. "I said, are you going to stand there all night or did you want to get under the covers as well?" he asked sarcastically.
"Doubtful, little brother." Mycroft stepped away. "I'll bring up some tea."
"You know, I keep forgetting you actually know how to make tea," Sherlock muttered, tugging on the blankets. They seemed to be caught beneath his feet, tangled amongst his wobbly legs.
"Yes, well, I don't have a housekeeper like some people."
"She's not my housekeeper." What was really going on with these blankets? He was two seconds away from giving up here and letting the sweat just freeze to his exposed skin in the seemingly cold room.
"Says the man who can't cover himself up with a blanket." There was a sharp jerk and the feel of the blanket finally being untrapped as Mycroft pulled it away. The pull almost sent Sherlock rolling, and he grumbled at his brother even as Mycroft tucked the blanket around his shoulders.
"Careful," he griped, fingers reaching up to replace Mycroft's on the blanket. He pulled it closer around his neck, and pressed his face into the pillow to let out a shallow breath.
"Do try to be careful, Sherlock."
"Silence, Mycroft, I need silence. I'm trying to sleep. I'm sick, remember?"
"Yes... I'll get that tea." Footsteps moved away from the bed. The door opened and closed.
Sherlock finally relaxed into the blankets, and maybe groaned a tiny bit. He was miserable. If this really was some type of flu, he could sick from anywhere between twenty-four to one-twenty-hours, ranging from a one day to potential five day flu, and he couldn't stay here for five days...
He was dying, wasn't he? It was that simple. This was punishment for all of his sins. Being sick, clearly dying, under the eye of his brother.
... Well, maybe not, but with the way his stomach ached and his head throbbed...
Sherlock groaned again and wrapped his arms around his pillow, pulling it up close to his body.
"How is it that you get sick when Mary and I are both out of town?"
Sherlock crashed into bed, breathing heavily through his nose. "Dunno. Good timing?" After his midnight excursion, he had slept the rest of the night. Only to have illness kick back in the moment he was awake, vomiting coupled with stomach cramps that were just bordering on this side of 'severe'.
He'd just come back from the bathroom when he noticed the notification on his phone, and he'd clumsily pressed redial for John to answer with a question instead of his usual, customary greeting.
"Sherlock," John chastised.
"Fine, bad timing." Sherlock rolled over onto the blankets, slinging his free arm over his stomach. "How'd you know I was sick, anyway?"
"Mycroft rang me."
"Of course he did." He blew out a breath through his teeth and huddled down further. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep and worse still, the medication he'd taken wasn't staying down. Brother in question hadn't been in much, though, so that was a plus.
"So, the stomach flu?"
"I guess so." Sherlock swallowed. "Vomiting, cramps. All of that."
"Well, you've been there before. Are you drinking enough?"
"There's tea."
"Have some plain water too," John said. "Medicine?"
"I'm sure I've thrown it all back up." Sherlock stretched out and then curled up around the blankets again.
"Don't double up. And try to keep it down if you can."
"Great advice," Sherlock hissed. "God, this is miserable."
"Sorry we're not there."
Sherlock laughed humorlessly. "I figured you wouldn't be able to... nag me," he said, rolling over, "since you weren't here."
"Great to be appreciated."
If smiling didn't take so much energy, he might have just then. "You know what I mean... gotta sleep, John," he continued, knowing it would get him off the phone even if he wasn't sure he'd sleep.
"Right. Get your sleep. Call me if you need anything, alright?"
Any potential sarcasm was lost beneath the pain. "Uh huh." He tossed his phone onto the mattress once they'd disconnected, and kicked the bundled up blankets away from his feet. He was cold and hot at once, sweaty and shivering and he hated it, hated it. It was the same old symptoms, every time he got sick, be it flu or food poisoning, and there was nothing to make it better except let it run its course.
John was lucky, though, that Sherlock had held it together enough on the phone so that he hadn't just incoherently babbled into his ear. (He'd done that before on a high fever... and sleep deprivation.)
"Well done."
Sherlock winced, groaning again when the flinch sent pain radiating throughout his body. "Go away."
"Just checking in."
"Check-in somewhere else- ow. Oh, God." With the arm that he'd been holding the phone to his ear with now free, he wrapped both arms around his stomach, jambing his kneecaps up.
"Hot water bottle?"
Sherlock hated how good the idea sounded. But he couldn't help but nod, ducking his head into the pillow and regulating his breathing through his nose. Which he kept doing - in, out, in, out, through the shuddering and the reflexive swallowing - until Mycroft walked back into the room.
He squinted his eyes open, looking at the water bottle Mycroft was offering. He slowly unwound his arm from his stomach and swiped it from his brother, shoving it against his stomach. "Thank you, now go-"
Sherlock crashed to a halt as Mycroft put his hand on his forehead.
Suddenly he was seven years old, sick with an ailment that had taken him out of school, and his mum was sitting on the bed next to him, her hand on his forehead to check for the fever.
His eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing against his cheeks as the warmth from the water bottle and Mycroft's hand sank into his skin. "... That's not accurate," he mumbled, and didn't reopen his eyes.
"True," Mycroft allowed, pulling away. "You have a thirty-seven point five, if I'm not mistaken."
"... You're not mistaken." He squirmed slightly. "'s just a low-grade," he muttered.
"Yet you're still miserable. Sleep, Sherlock."
He pushed himself further under the blankets, into the wrinkling sheets and the crumpled up pillow and splayed his fingers against the bottle and tangled his free hand into his shirt. "Don't tell me what to do," he muttered.
Mycroft might have laughed. Only just. (But maybe Sherlock was sicker than they thought.) "Of course not, little brother. I wouldn't even try."
A/N: These Holmes brothers are literally the best. I literally need more Holmes brother in Series 4. And we still need sick!lock in Series 4. Or detox!lock. Or, well, you know. xD Someone (Mycroft or John or Mary) taking care of this detective.
Stay tuned for upcoming chapters!
