Here's a long chapter because you all are so lovely :)

Somehow, John had been able to fall asleep again. He took it as a sign that maybe he was on his way to getting better. But Sherlock must also have been feeling at least slightly better because the next thing John knew he was being woken up by him.

Sherlock was just staring at John when he groggily pulled himself out of unconsciousness. He jerked back. "What are you doing?"

"You were snoring," Sherlock said simply.

"Yeah. So, what?"

"It was keeping me up."

"Again, I say 'so, what?'"

Sherlock sighed heavily. "I want to go to sleep too."

"Is that the only reason you woke me up?" John was so tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep when they were on their previous case either and he'd gotten practically no sleep the night before. That, combined with being very sick, made him very tired. And being very tired combined with Sherlock made for a not happy John.

"Yes. If I go to sleep before you then we can both go to sleep." Sherlock, of course, thought that this solution only made the perfect sense.

John sat up a little and got right in Sherlock's face. "You listen to me. If you wake me up again I will kill you. You are not the only one who is sick here, if you haven't noticed, and I need my sleep too. If you wake me up again it better be because you're dying."

A small flicker of surprise crossed Sherlock's face before he backed away with a "Hmmm"

John knew he shouldn't but he asked it anyway. "What?"

"You make a very good doctor but you are a very poor patient. I find it interesting that you are so tolerant of others' illness but you are very intolerant of your own."

Leave it to Sherlock to learn something from an insult. He calmly laid back on the couch and closed his eyes. John tried to come up with something clever to say but all he came up with was "whatever." He laid back against the couch but he was so riled up it took him a while to fall asleep and he knew Sherlock was a sleep before he could find his way back to sleep. Sherlock had gotten what he wanted, as usual.

A few hours later, the sun was setting and evening was approaching. John woke up and felt so good that he thought he might actually be able to eat something. He tried to drink water and it stayed down. The past day without water caught up with him and he had to stop himself from guzzling the water down he was so thirsty.

Sherlock was still asleep on the couch and he was glad for it. Things were so quiet. John was careful as he got off the couch and made his way to kitchen, being careful not to make any noise that might wake Sherlock. John was not surprised to find that they did not have any food that was appropriate for people who were coming off food poisoning to eat.

He briefly thought about what to do. He actually felt hungry. It was a weird hunger; he felt like he was starving and that he was nauseous at the same time. But since the hunger was actually more prominent than the nausea he figured he should eat. But he really didn't want to go to the store; he felt pretty good now but his stomach was very unpredictable and he wasn't sure when that might change.

But he knew that no one else was going to go and they literally had nothing that would be safe for him or Sherlock to eat, though it would probably be awhile before he decided to eat. John threw on the first thing he could find, just to be presentable, and made his way to the small pharmacy not too far from their flat. It wouldn't have a good selection like the grocery store would but it would be enough for what he needed.

John tried to shop as fast as he could. He had felt pretty good at home but now that he was dressed, out, and walking around he was feeling weaker and sicker by the moment. Even though he threw items in his basket as fast as he could, barely even looking at what he was buying, he stomach decided to do wild things the minute he stepped in the store and he still ended up having the use the toilet before he left. Was this ever going to end?

Sherlock woke up while John was gone. As much as he had wanted to sleep he was now almost as glad to be awake. His sleep had been fitful and he'd had the strangest dreams. He partially attributed it to the sickness and partially to the absurd television that John had wanted to watch. With John gone, he quickly turned it off and delighted in the silence. He wasn't sure that he wanted to sleep if his mind was going to do such strange things. It was one thing to be sick but he didn't want it to affect his mind. He had not known that sickness could impact his mind in that way and even though it was in unconsciousness it was still unacceptable.

He found that he didn't feel any better than he had when he had gone to sleep. This dreadful day was never ending. He was freezing cold and his body ached and he pulled the blanket tighter around him. He'd been able to stop the unpleasant symptoms that he had been experiencing but they had lead to other ones. His stomach was no longer nauseous but it cramped viciously as did his lower stomach as well. And now there was no relief from it, not even a brief moment of it.

He thought for a second that John might have been right. After all, if he wasn't here, then he had felt well enough to go out, and Sherlock knew that he didn't feel well enough to go out, no matter what the cause. He just had wanted to stop all of his body's disgusting urges. It was all so horrible he had just wanted it to stop. He started to sit up when he heard John coming up the stairs but his head start to spin so much that he put it down quickly; he wouldn't want John to see and start questioning him about it.

John came in with a couple of bags and saw that he was awake. "Oh, you're up. I went to the store, if you feel like anything." He didn't ask Sherlock if he wanted anything; Sherlock knew that John knew better than to ask that. He saw John stumble a little and could see that John was still feeling poorly himself.

John went back to his bedroom and changed and came back, another blanket in hand. He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water, some crackers, and a cup of Jello. It looked revolting. "You're actually going to eat?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Amazingly enough I have an appetite. Do you want anything?" he said waving the food towards Sherlock. He backed up from it and grimaced.

"No."

"I bought some soup and popsicles too but I don't feel well enough for that."

"Stop talking about food."

"Still not feeling any better?"

"Not really."

"You should drink some water. You'll be able to keep it down now."

"No," he said closing his eyes. He was unbelievably still sleepy. His mind also felt strange; groggy and just kind of heavy. He didn't like the feeling at all.

It was late, the middle of the night, when John heard Sherlock calling his name. The flat was bathed in darkness and was quiet except for Sherlock's cries. It seemed to take forever for John to find his way out of his foggy sleep state of mind, mostly because he didn't want to find a way out of it. He'd actually found his way to sleep, deep sleep, and he didn't want to come out of it. He'd spent the whole day taking care of Sherlock while taking care of his own sickness and he was not happy to be awoken now since Sherlock was undoubtedly too lazy to get something for himself and wanted John to get it.

John didn't even open his eyes when he spoke. "Sherlock, whatever it is that you need, get it yourself. I'm sick too you know and I need my rest. I thought I made myself pretty clear earlier."

"John…please." That's when John noticed it. Sherlock's voice sounded strange, different than usual. It sounded weak and a little…panicked? John's eyes flew open and he saw in the darkness that Sherlock was sitting in the floor against the couch.

John turned on a lamp and got up to help Sherlock get back up on the couch. "Sherlock what are you doing on the floor?" John helped Sherlock off the floor and Sherlock let him which told John that something was wrong. "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel right."

John was instantly into doctor mode. "What are you feeling? Are you having different symptoms than you were?"

"My head, it feels so heavy, like everything is just spinning. I was getting up to go to the bathroom but I was so dizzy, I had to…sit down."

"You fell down," John said it as a statement not a question. Sherlock was in the floor; he wouldn't have chosen to sit down there. This was bad.

"Yes," Sherlock admitted.

"Is your stomach pain worse than it was?"

"No. Not really. I just feel strange. My mind, it isn't working right"

Sherlock looked feverish and when John put his hand on his forehead it was hot. "I'm going to get the thermometer and take your temperature." John got up on his own weak and shaky legs but managed to make it to the bathroom and back. In his head he was running through a list of food poisoning complications and what might be ailing Sherlock at the moment. Why hadn't Sherlock just listened to him earlier? Now he was really sick.

When John got back to Sherlock he was sitting in the same spot. His eyes were just kind of glazed over and he was staring off at nothing it seemed. It wasn't like when he was deep in thought; there was nothing in his eyes right now. John put the thermometer in Sherlock's ear and waited the three seconds it took for it to take the reading. John froze when he saw the reading: 40.3

He tried hard not to panic. He had to do something now. Fast. "Sherlock, you have a really high temperature and we need to get it down now." He grabbed Sherlock's arm and slung it over his shoulders to help lead him to the bathroom. He wouldn't even try to convince Sherlock to go to the hospital; he knew that was a lost cause. And truth be told this was quicker.

It must have been a site to see him half lead, half drag Sherlock to the bathroom as he stumbled himself. But somehow his own illness was forgotten and he managed to get the two of them back to the bathroom. "John, what are you doing? I just want to lay down."

"I know you're dizzy but your temperature is 40.3. We need to get it down now." John stood Sherlock by the tub and ripped off his dressing gown and pyjama shirt. "I need to get you cooled down and this is the fastest way."

"I'm already so cold," Sherlock complained but John was able to get him to lower himself into the bathtub.

"I know and I'm sorry but this is for your own good. Its this or the hospital" He turned the cold water on full blast and let it shower down on Sherlock. He knew that that last comment would be enough to stop Sherlock from protesting John's treatment but he did feel sorry for Sherlock. He just lay there, shivering as the cold water rained down on him. He scrunched up on himself and pulled his arms to his chest looking very young.

John bent down to the tub and reached a hand out to cover Sherlock's eyes from the water. John wanted the water to be falling on Sherlock's head but he looked really pitiful just sitting there as water hit him in the face soaking and weighing down his curls.

They sat there like that for a long time and John was also shaking now from the cold before Sherlock asked "How much longer John?"

John knew if Sherlock was asking he was feeling at least a little better and more like himself. John looked at his eyes and they didn't seem to look quite so hazy and he didn't look as lethargic. "Are you feeling better?"

"Well, I'm freezing and soaked so in one sense, no. But my mind does feel a little better. A little clearer. It was so strange. I never knew sickness could affect my mind that way."

"That was scary, huh?" John knew that he wouldn't admit it but it bothered Sherlock a lot that this fever was slowing his mind down and making it hard to think. The physical symptoms of the past 24 hours were bad enough but they had not affected Sherlock's ability to think. He could deal with physical problems but not mental ones.

But Sherlock didn't answer, just kind of shrugged. John reached over and turned the water off. His stomach made an ominous sound and he stopped. Now that things were calming down a bit, his stomach was demanding to be paid attention to. In the moment he had been able to forget his own physical state. It was how he survived medical school and his shifts in the hospital. He could forget his own physical state in the moment a patient needed him.

He leaned over quickly to the toilet just in time to get sick. So, much for the dinner he tried to eat, if you could even call it that. When he was done he looked over at Sherlock. "Sorry."

Sherlock just kind of shrugged again. He might feel a little better but John could tell he wasn't feeling good yet. He wondered how much the shower had brought Sherlock's fever down. He handed Sherlock a towel. "Here. I'll go get you some dry pyjamas and you can change."

He brought a set of pyjamas back to Sherlock and helped him as he stood and got out of the tub. "The good thing is that soon that medicine you took should be wearing off and you'll be able to get sick again."

Sherlock looked at John like he was crazy. "And that's a good thing?"

"Yes, believe it or not. Your body needs to get rid of whatever poison you ingested. Without it being able to leave your system its just setting in your body. That's probably why your fever is so high. Trying to kill off whatever it is."

Sherlock looked thoughtful, no doubt remembering the advice that John had given him that he had ignored. But he said nothing.

"You'll be able to walk back to the living room?"

"Of course." Sherlock said, like it was ridiculous to think otherwise. Obviously, he was choosing not to remember their stumble down the hall.

"Alright then," John said turning and starting to leave.

"John."

"Yes?" he said stopping.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

John went to kitchen while Sherlock changed. He got a glass of water and a popsicle from the freezer. When Sherlock came back he handed them both to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at John but before he could say anything John interrupted him. "It will help lower your temperature."

For once Sherlock didn't argue. He drank the water and ate the popsicle (a sight John thought he would never see) and shivered the whole time. "How do you feel now?"

"Better but not good. My mind feels clearer but still foggy and I'm still really dizzy. And freezing."

John got the blanket and gave it to Sherlock. "You shouldn't cover up too much but you can put this on. I'm going to take your temperature again." The thermometer read 39.5. It was still high but it was on its way down. "You're temperature is still high but its going down which is good. I'm going to get you some medicine to take while you can still keep it down."

When John came back, Sherlock took the medicine and drank the glass of water without complaint. A compliant Sherlock-this was not something John was use to. He either really felt horrible or the fever shook him up more than he wanted to admit. John guessed it was a combination of the two.

John sat down in the couch beside Sherlock. He was exhausted. This event had taken away the small amount of energy he had. He knew he needed to get some sleep soon because Sherlock would soon be experiencing unpleasant symptoms and would undoubtedly be waking John up again. He turned the lamp off and was settling into sleep when Sherlock spoke.

"I'm sorry."

It not only startled John because it had been quiet and he wasn't expecting Sherlock to speak but also because he didn't expect to hear those words from Sherlock. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. You were right."

John couldn't believe it. Who was this man sitting beside him, because it wasn't the Sherlock he knew? "I said what I did before because it was the truth. Its not like I wanted you to suffer."

"I know that John." He said it like it was obvious but he was the one who had not listened to John's advice. He closed his eyes and settled in, obviously trying to ignore John and forget the fact that he had just apologized.

John smiled. Sherlock had not only apologized but had also admitted that he was wrong and John was right. John wouldn't say that getting sick was worth it but it was definitely a silver lining in this whole thing. He had taught Sherlock a lesson. This sickness was a strange thing indeed.

One more chapter left for this story. Hopefully, our boys get well soon!