Chapter 2! Yay! WOW at the follows, favourites and reviews! You lot are the best!
I had meant to update a few days ago, but as luck would have it, I got sick! It delayed posting, but at least it inspired a few upcoming chapters!
Disclaimer; still don't own anything.
To say that John had no desire to get out of bed the next morning would be an understatement. As far as he was concerned he could lie there until he died which, with the way he currently felt, couldn't be too far off. He felt as if he didn't sleep at all last night, even though he knew from the stiffness in his neck that he had slept for hours. His head pounded loudly in his ears and he had the overwhelming urge to cough. He swallowed and cleared his throat only to find that it felt as if it were on fire. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. He slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the bright sunlight from his window and turned to the night stand, checking the time. 8:47 AM. It felt much earlier than that. Time was moving oddly again, or was it him? He couldn't tell.
Despite not wanting to get out of bed, he forced himself to sit up and set his feet on the floor and grab his clothes, sluggishly pulling them on. He was a soldier, he wasn't about to let a little sore throat and a headache get to him.
After a few minutes he made it downstairs only to realise that every bone in his body was beginning to throb with a dull ache.
"Morning, John." Sherlock greeted him, seeming surprisingly more chipper than usual.
John looked up as he passed him.
"Hmm? Yeah, good morning." he yawned widely, his throat burning all the more.
He took a quick looked around the kitchen and found that the food they had in did not sound very appetising at the moment. His stomach grumbled unpleasantly at the sight. Just tea then. He was fine with that. He pushed some experiments out of the way and washed his mug in the sink, thankful to find that Sherlock had already put the kettle on.
"Lestrade finished the case this morning." Sherlock announced, picking up a newspaper and sitting down on the sofa to read, sipping at his cup and laying it the coffee table.
John nodded, plopping down in the nearest chair with his warm tea in his hands.
"Yeah, good. That's good."
"He had a couple of cold cases that he wanted me to look over. None of them were particularly interesting. However a potential client of mine may stop by later and your medical expertise may be of use. That is, unless you have to work today?"
John sighed and rested his head against his fist.
"Yeah, shift starts at 10:00. I've got just enough time to shower."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and studied John for a few moments, looking at him in the way he looked at a victim when he was on a case. It made John very uncomfortable being on the receiving end of that glare.
"You have a headache." Sherlock said finally, proud of his deduction.
John nodded and rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah. Nothing I can't handle."
"Why don't you take something? Paracetamol?"
John almost laughed. Sherlock telling him to take paracetamol. Usually it was the other way around.
"Yeah, thanks. I'm fine." He assured, standing to his feet. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water melted away the aches and pains in his joints and the crook in his neck. However, the cough and sore throat persisted to be a bother. He quickly dried and dressed when his watch alarm went off, warning him he only had twenty minutes to get to work.
He walked out of the bathroom and saw Sherlock preparing to play violin by the window.
"Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone." he warned before he shrugged his coat on.
It took all he could to focus when he arrived to work. He could hear his head pound in his ears and the urge to cough never seemed to go away. It caused him to lose his train of thought several times and soon became highly irritating.
And suddenly there was a knock at his door.
"John?" Sarah peeked in, chart in hand.
He looked up and swallowed, only it felt as if he had swallowed boiling water.
"Yeah?" He croaked, grasping at his throat.
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"Are you feeling okay? You seemed a bit off when you came in today."
He scoffed, but that hurt too.
"I'm fine, just...a little under the weather, that's all."
Sarah licked her lips.
"I'm guessing you have a sore throat?"
John coughed into his hand, the movement causing his head to pound.
"Yeah. I don't have stuffed sinuses or anything, I'm just a bit...tired."
Sarah pushed her eyebrows together.
"I want to take your temperature. If it's any higher than 38° I want you to go home."
He sighed and rested his head against his hand.
"I still have patents to see."
She shook her head.
"I'll take care of it. You don't need to take care of the sick if you're sick yourself, John. You know that."
"Yeah, I know."
Sarah pulled out a clean thermometer and passed it to him.
"Go ahead."
He swallowed and stuck it under his tongue for a few moments and waited until it beeped to give it back to Sarah.
She looked down at the thermometer and frowned.
"39.2°." She announced, turning it so he could see.
John bit the inside of his cheek.
"Not good, I see."
Sarah nodded in agreement.
"Not good indeed, Dr. Watson. Go home and rest, John. Don't worry about anything here."
John nodded.
"Alright. I'll try to repay you somehow."
"Fine by me. But for now just focus on getting better, yes?"
"I'll try." he tried to laugh but it only came out as a cough.
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, I would also prescribe a nice tea with a little honey, maybe some cough syrup. Don't forget to bring that fever down."
John tried to laugh again, this time with better result.
"I'll keep that in mind."
He grabbed his coat and welcomed the warmth of the heavy fabric. He hadn't noticed how cold he had been before until now. A wave of dizziness swept over him and his vision fuzzed. He suddenly felt very tired and felt like collapsing.
He really needed to get home.
A/N; everything I'm putting John through is from a mixture of a couple of my own experiences being ill.
I feel so evil...
