Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
I know it has been way too long since I updated this story … sorry about that. The excuse, I'm afraid, is rather tired and used. I knew where the story needed to go but I didn't know how to get it there. And then, all of a sudden, light bulb moment! Gosh, I love that feeling. I hope you enjoy reading about what happens to poor John.
Mary was pacing outside of the bathroom door while Sherlock sat stoically on the edge of the freshly made bed (made by Mary, that was).
"Would you relax?" he asked with a roll of his eyes.
"No," Mary snapped. "My husband is in there and he's in no condition to be bathing by himself."
She felt her face turn red as Sherlock's eyebrow went up fractionally.
"Shut up." She snapped and returned to her pacing. Sherlock sighed.
"He'll be fine, he's a doctor. He knows what he's doing."
"Then why are you here?" Mary asked, glancing worriedly at the door.
"Because I'm his friend."
"And I'm his wife. Wife trumps friend."
"Normally I'd agree but in this instance, I have a bit more experience than you."
"Not that again," Mary groaned, looking up at the ceiling.
"But it's true."
"No. It's. Not." Mary said, her lips in a tight line.
"Yes, it is. You're living in denial."
"Denial, me?"
"Yes, you."
"I don't know what to do with you anymore, Sherlock!" Mary exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm sick of you trying to push your way into this."
Sherlock felt, somewhere deep inside, a slight pang of hurt. It was something Mrs. Hudson had said on the day of the wedding and he'd scoffed at. However, the as the day progressed, Sherlock realized all too clearly what she had meant.
Who leaves a wedding early?
The best friend, of course. They left early to slink into a corner and mourn their loss.
And now Mary was saying he was pushing his way into this – he was trying to be considerate, kind even, and he was being too forceful? How was he expected to be John's best friend when his wife never gave him any time to do it? This is what friends did … wasn't it?
Seconds later, that pang of hurt was replaced with a pang of determination and he gave an unemotional stare at Mary. Though he didn't give a verbal answer, his actions spoke loudly. He wasn't going anywhere.
Mary made a sort of guttural noise.
"You're impossible," she said. "I'm going for a walk."
With that, she stalked out of the room. Sherlock smiled to himself when he heard the door slam and he stood, knocking on the bathroom door.
"John, are you okay?"
"Mhmm." was John's reply. He had almost been asleep when he heard Mary yelling and he had also heard the door slam, which he knew couldn't be good.
"You should probably come out now," Sherlock called. "The heat's not good on your fever."
John sighed, knowing Sherlock was right.
"I'll be there in a minute," he called back, coughing afterward. He sighed again before pulling himself out of the water, goose bumps appearing as the cold air met him.
With shaky legs, John wrapped his dressing gown around himself and went back to the bedroom. Sherlock watched him stagger towards the bureau.
"Mary's gone for a walk."
"I heard."
"How do you feel?"
"Exhausted."
"Hmm," Sherlock said, pursing his lips. "Get dressed, I'll make us some tea."
He stood up and left the room. John, grateful for the quiet, proceeded to get dressed but not before texting Lestrade.
[sent 15:45] Get Sherlock a case. NOW.
[received 15:45] Why? Is everything alright?
[sent 15:46] Please, Greg. I'll explain later over drinks – my treat.
John hoped tempting the DI with a free beer or two would encourage him to act quickly. Sure enough, a moment later a text came through with confirmation that Sherlock would soon be getting a case and John sighed happily, pulling a shirt on over his head before crawling back into bed.
Sherlock came into the room a few moments later, a tea tray with cups and a plate of biscuits on it. He'd just set it on Mary's side of the bed when his mobile vibrated. He glanced at it, frowning.
"What's wrong?" John asked in a tired voice.
"Nothing." Sherlock said. "Not important."
He put his mobile back in his pocket and held out the tea cup to John.
"Who was it?" John asked, taking the cup.
"Lestrade. Something about a case."
"A case?" John asked, trying to look interested. "Anything good?"
"Double murder in the East End."
"So why not go? Sounds right up your alley."
"I'm not leaving you," Sherlock said, sipping his own tea. "Especially now that I've finally gotten rid of Mary."
"Sherlock, don't talk about her like that."
"Sorry." Sherlock said, not sounding sorry at all. John sighed.
"You should go," John repeated. "I'm just going to go to sleep. You'll probably be able to solve it and be back within an hour. Lestrade was saying just the other week how much you've been helping him lately – he's swamped and you solve cases quickly."
Sherlock didn't reply.
"Please, Sherlock?" John asked. "I know you want to."
Sherlock still didn't answer.
"Can you get me some applesauce?" John asked suddenly.
"Applesauce?"
"Yeah, it's good for an upset stomach; one of the four foods in the BRAT diet."
"The what?"
"The BRAT diet, it stands for bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast. All bland foods that are easy to eat."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but proceeded to leave the room again.
[sent 15:52] Send a picture and there's fish and chips in it as well. Convince him.
Sherlock returned with a bowl and handed it to John, who recognized a small flaw in this plan. Now that he had it, he actually had to try and eat it. Determined, John swallowed the first spoonful and Sherlock's mobile vibrated again.
"Lestrade again?"
"Yes."
Sherlock opened the picture and frowned.
"Interesting …" his voice trailed off and John knew then that the ploy had worked.
"You should go," John said for the third time. "And while you're out, can you pick up some rice and bananas?"
Sherlock glanced up at John.
"I'm not your wife," he said, standing. "Mary can get them. I'll text her from the cab … you're sure you'll be okay?"
John nodded.
"I'll be fine. I'm going to sleep."
"Text me if anything changes."
"Absolutely anything and you'll know." John promised.
"And I'll be back later to check on you."
John nodded.
"Good luck."
"I don't believe in luck, you know that. Besides, I don't need luck."
John subtly rolled his eyes.
"Fine, enjoy then."
"Plan to."
Sherlock tightened his scarf and left. John heard the front door close and he let out a tremendous sigh of relief. He put the applesauce down and closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't be sick anytime soon. His wish was in vain and soon John found himself dry heaving painfully. As much as he didn't want to admit it, John knew he shouldn't be alone in his condition but he didn't want to ask Mary or Sherlock to come back to him, lest the arguments start all over. So, he called the only other person he could think of: Mrs. Hudson.
His old landlady was at the flat as quickly as John knew she would be. The minute he'd opened the door, she'd made a *tsk* noise and ushered him back to bed. John let her take his temperature and give him medicine and she tucked the blankets around him, turned the light off, and closed the door. Feeling pleased by her approach, the doctor closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Mary and Sherlock arrived home around the same time – the crime scene had been a ridiculously easy deduction and Mary had run into a friend on her walk, which prolonged her absence.
"Where were you?" Mary greeted Sherlock coldly.
"Case."
"And you just left John?"
"He said I should."
"And you listened? Did you not see how sick he was? What were you thinking, leaving him alone?"
"I was thinking that he was a grown man and could manage to sleep by himself."
"And yet you felt the need to come back, not to mention hover when I had everything under control!"
Mary unlocked the door and barged in, Sherlock following.
"Did you pick up groceries?" Sherlock asked, ignoring Mary's previous statement. "I sent you a text."
"No!" Mary exclaimed. "I did not. I sent you a text back telling you to pick up the groceries if John asked you for them. You were so intent on helping I figured I'd let you help."
"I'm not his errand boy."
"Neither am I!"
"Will you two pipe down?" Mrs. Hudson met them at the junction between the entry way and the sitting room. "John is finally asleep and I'd like to keep it that way."
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock exclaimed.
"John called me, said he was ill. I came right over and found him in quite a state. I'm surprised you went out, Mary. He really shouldn't have been left alone."
Mary glared at Sherlock.
"No, he shouldn't have. I'll go check on him."
"Me, too." Sherlock said, taking a few steps towards the bedroom.
"No, you will not." Mary said firmly.
"Yes, I will."
"No one is going anywhere." Mrs. Hudson cut in. "I don't know what's going on between you two but I guarantee that it's not doing John any good."
"I completely agree, Mrs. Hudson," Mary said, moving forward again. "Sherlock has clearly overstepped his boundary and needs to learn that I'm John's wife, I can take care of him."
"And Mary needs to realize that sleeping with him doesn't mean she's the most qualified."
"I'm his wife. I know him best."
"I've known him longer. I fail to see how you can know him better than me."
"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there." Mary scoffed. "Excuse me, I'm going to check on John."
She took a few steps forward but was stopped by Mrs. Hudson's arm.
"No," Mrs. Hudson said firmly. "I'm going to take care of John until you two can figure out how to act like sensible adults."
"Not a chance - "
"Absolutely not - "
"I don't want to hear it," Mrs. Hudson interrupted. "Both of you, out, now."
She took each of them by an arm and led them to the door. Once they were outside, she locked the deadbolt. Feeling rather accomplished, Mrs. Hudson held her head high and went to make sure John was still sleeping.
I know this feels slightly out of character but I had to get Mrs. Hudson in here somehow. I hope it worked as well as I wanted it to. Thanks, as always, for your support. Please review and I hope to have updates soon!