After getting Holmes to bed, I went to fetch a cloth, and a basin of cold water. He'd definitely not done himself well with going out on the stakeout.

"Hasshoo! HaiSHOO! 'tCHOO! EpptNgxNxT! W-Wa-... Ah... Hah... HATCHEW! HeEptTCHOO!" Holmes' sneezes rung throughout the flat so loudly, I was almost certain that they could be heard down the street. "Watsod..." His tired voice groaned. I grabbed the cough syrup from my bag and entered his room to find him laying under the covers, handkerchief pressed to his nose. "Heh... huh... H-h... W-Watso- Ah...Ugh." He removed the handkerchief from his nose and gave me a look of utter exhaustion, which I exchanged for one of sympathy.

"Come now, Old Boy, I've brought you medicine." I held up the bottle in my hand and poured some into a spoon.

At the sight of this, my friend drew back under the covers. "Watsod, stay away frob be with that FOUL liquid!"

"Holmes, it will help!"

"Help? That will berely put be to sleep, add leave a rather udpleasant ta...Ah..." The handkerchief was brought to his nose once again. "Hih... Ih... EeeetCHOO! This godawful tickling is bessigg with be..." He blew his nose wearily. I chuckled slightly as his earlier remark. Wouldn't that be nice, Holmes sleeping.

"Oh, just take the damned medicine!"

"No." His flat out refusal I found to be- I must admit -quite comical, were it not so utterly irksome.

"What can I do to get you to take it?"

"Dothigg." He snuffled stubbornly. "Dothigg id this world will bake be wadt to willingly put that disgustigg liquid anywhere DEAR by bouth."

I sighed frustratedly as Holmes crossed his arms, looking much like a stubborn child, for that's exactly what he was. A sick man is no better than a child, and Sherlock Holmes showed that sentence truth thoroughly.