"le-strade, why you keep looken for key? Told ya I's melted em," Sherlock slurred. Lestrade would have laughed at Sherlock for his delirious babbling, but Lestrade is finding it hard to laugh when he is cuffed to a delusional detective who is sick with fever. Back at the Yard Sherlock had been spinning around like one of those toy tops Lestrade's dad used to get him when he was a kid. Lucky for him Donavan had volunteered to drive them home…after she helped Anderson upload the video of Sherlock making a fool of himself online. The press was going to be fanatic about that. Lestrade couldn't help but hope that they didn't know where Sherlock and John were now staying. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled into this thing along with them. The press are more dangerous than any serial killer.
"Sherlock I don't feel like being stuck to you for the rest of my life. I know I have an extra key somewhere in this stupid flat, but after you 'redecorated' they seem to have been misplaced," Lestrade hissed through his teeth. Sherlock lifted a hand to his mouth, giggling like a madman. Lestrade made a mental note to call John back and have him bring the detective some kind of medicine to snap him out of this. It was starting to scare the DI. He's never seen Sherlock unable to keep himself in check. Sherlock had always been so proper so stuck up. Now he was just babbling away about anything and everything. Including something about Mycroft and an old girlfriend Lestrade really wished he could erase from his memory.
"Want elp?" Sherlock asked, tripping over his feet and bringing Lestrade down on the floor with him. Sherlock started laughing as Lestrade smashed Sherlock under his weight. Lestrade had no idea what was so funny about getting flattened.
"No, Sherlock, I don't think you'll be much help," Lestrade sighed, lifting himself from the cackling detective. Sherlock frowned at him, regaining some of his control again. Maybe he was snapping out of it now.
"I am very helpful, Lestrade. I am quite skilled in the manner of observation. I-" Sherlock stopped and looked around the room, his expression changing back into its insane smile. "I's …you see dat? I think was a…a… strade, what we doin here?" And now he's gone again. Lestrade had hoped too soon. Sherlock had left Lestrade with his other self again…yippy. He needed to get Sherlock occupied on something other than babbling about nonsense.
"Yeah, ok, Sherlock, why don't you play with this," Lestrade said, tossing a rubix cube at the detective. Sherlock's delusional self-stared at the small block and grinned evilly at it. Lestrade smiled as the child-like detective fiddled with the toy. That had been easy. Lestrade walked around the flat, pulling Sherlock behind him. "I am going to have to get a better place for my keys," Lestrade grumbled, searching through a cupboard. Sherlock remained silent except for the click clack of the rubix cube he was so deeply involved with. Lestrade would have to remember that for the next time he needed Sherlock to keep quiet. Lestrade was just searching through a few pockets, when he felt his arm tug downwards. Lestrade looked down, expecting Sherlock to be rolling on the floor laughing, but the detective wasn't. No, instead Lestrade was shocked to find that Sherlock had broken from his delusional mind and was back to his usual look, except for the part that he was shaking on the floor. Lestrade kneeled down by his friend, fear bubbling inside him as he stared at his friend, who was too pale for words.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Lestrade asked him. Sherlock's eyes dragged up to Lestrade's, but quickly turned away. Lestrade looked over Sherlock, noting that he shivered on and off again. He must be having hot and cold flashes or something like that. Lestrade, deciding to give up his search, yanked Sherlock up and dropped him onto the couch to rest. Sherlock curled up into a ball and Lestrade dropped a blanket over his body after checking Sherlock's temperature again. it was a little hotter, but not too much. Sherlock looked at Lestrade, frowning as his body shook uncontrollably.
"Lestrade, put me out of my misery," Sherlock groaned, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead wish a shaky hand. Lestrade laughed, shaking his head.
"I would to save myself from any more of your diluted babbling, but John would kill me," Lestrade stated. Sherlock let out a dramatic sigh and stared at the blank ceiling, lifting his hands into their usual prayer like position.
"Sherlock, I'm back! I have some-" John grew silent as he stared at the cuffs around Lestrade and Sherlock's wrists. John opened his mouth and shut it quickly.
"I don't want to know," John sighed, bring a bag of medical supplies over to the both of them. Lestrade quickly told John about Sherlock's episodes and reported the fever. Sherlock of course, denied the whole scene. John pulled out a bottle of thick purple liquid and slipped a spoonful into Sherlock's mouth before the detective could argue. Sherlock gagged at the horrible test as the liquid entered his mouth. "Sleep," John ordered, ruffling Sherlock's sweaty black curls. Sherlock didn't even bother arguing with John. He most likely could tell that John would not let Sherlock have his way this time. Lestrade watched as Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing deepened.
"Will he be alright?" Lestrade asked. John brushed the sweaty hair from Sherlock's face and nodded.
"Yeah, he should be his same old annoying self by tomorrow morning," John sighed, staring at the peacefully sleeping detective. Lestrade frowned and rubbed at his face, he had a feeling his hair had grown greyer from these past few hours.
"Then again, I think I like the delusional Sherlock Holmes better," Lestrade teased. John chuckled and turned his attention to the cuffs that rested tightly around Sherlock and Lestrade's wrists.
"Um so do you need me to get the key?" John asked, nodding at the cuffs. Lestrade shook his head.
"No, we're going to need a lock smith to come over. Sherlock apparently melted them in an experiment," Lestrade sighed with a huff. John stuck his hand into his pocket, fishing out a pair of keys. Lestrade frowned at them and then at John questionably.
"Figured that I'd keep the spare so Sherlock wouldn't destroy or lose them," John sighed. Greg let out a sigh of relief and held out his shackled hand.
"Good old Dr. Watson, you saved us again!"
Here is the continuing part of Sick. Hope you all like it!
