A/N: Because Yogurt (a nice reviewer :)) asked for a sick Sherlock and since I have a nasty cold myself I wrote a little fluff piece. Hope it is not to bad and roughly what Yogurt had in mind.

Sniffles

His own stupid body was betraying him. He had woken up with a pounding headache, a stuffed nose and a sore throat. By the time he had forced himself out of his bedroom and onto the coach his ears had started to ache too.

Completely miserable, he sprawled on the sofa and waited for John to wake up. The man was a doctor after all, he would know what to do. By the time John came down the stairs, the tickle in his throat had became a cough and a violent sneeze ripped though him. With a disgusted sound, Sherlock wiped his nose on the sleeve of his dressing gown.

A packet of handkerchiefs suddenly appeared in his vision, "Please use these, far more hygienic than your sleeve."

Sherlock crumbled, but took the offered package anyway. And really, how much stuff could be up there? He needed to perform an experiment on the capacities of the nose as soon as he could think clearly again. John had thrown the old head out months ago, so there was space in the fridge for a new one. The tissue was discarded on the floor and John was in front of him with a basket and his medical kit.

"Used handkerchiefs go in here." He said and wriggled the basket, before putting it on the ground beside the sofa. "Now let's see what's wrong with you" John said and thoroughly examined Sherlock. The detective in turn thought that John could do with a better bedside manner and wondered how he managed to keep his job at the surgery. Which led to Sherlock moaning and growling through the examination.

"Looks like you've got a mild middle ear infection." John said and started rooting through his bag, pulling out a small green bottle. "This'll help against the pain and the infection. Lay down."

There wasn't much, that Sherlock could do against John, when the doctor ordered him around in this kind of voice, so he complied. He was trembling slightly and John placed the warm blanket over him, before pushing curly hair from the ear. "It's cold," he warned, but that wasn't warning enough. The stuff wasn't just cold it was freezing and the feeling, when the drop slowly rolled down into his inner ear, was so uncomfortable, that a shiver ran up his spine and he would have jumped up in alarm, had John not held him down.

"What the hell is this?"

"Auralgan, it helps with the pain and the swelling." John explained and continued to press Sherlock down, "You need to lie still for a few minutes to make sure the drop is sufficiently absorbed."

"Boring."

"I'll turn on the telly and get you a tea, when you're done."

Sherlock mumbled something unintelligibly and stared at John, slightly annoyed. The doctor just chuckled and turned to leave. Another sneeze broke free, before Sherlock had the chance to lift his hand, not that he would have, and hit John right in the back. Sherlock suppressed the smile and hoped that John would get sick too, he had certainly earned it.

The whole day past in a bored daze. He was regularly dosed by John with Tylenol and cough syrup, but luckily the disgusting ear drops stayed in place. The program on the telly was as dreadful as usual, but now the added headache and the sandpaper feeling of his eyes made it even more irritating. So, when he snapped at John more often than usual, it was totally not his fault. The flu and the telly had made him do it.

In the evening John approached him again with that small green bottle and Sherlock did the only logical thing: he clasped his hands over his ears and told him no.

"If you led it fester, you could go deaf." John told him. The bastard even had the guts to smile. "You don't want to go deaf, do you?"

"I don't care, this stuff is vile."

"You can have a lollipop, if you're brave." John said, still smirking, because that usually worked with his younger patients and damn if Sherlock hadn't acted like a child the whole day. Wanted to have tea, moaned at the pain, growled at the TV and threw his used handkerchiefs on the ground. And John would not pick them up.

Sherlock needed to think on that offer. He always liked that particular kind of candy. It had helped him immensely, when he had stopped smoking and he hadn't had one in a while.

"Is it red?" he asked, not yet freeing his ears, but at least reducing the pressure.

"Is there any other kind?"

Reluctantly he removed his hands from his ears and laid down, tensing already in anticipation of the cool liquid sliding down is auditory canal. As expected a shiver ragged up his spine at the odd sensation and again it was John's hand on his shoulder that kept him down.

"Now that wasn't that bad." A small tap on his shoulder left Sherlock alone again, if only for a while, because John returned with the promised lollipop. And no, there was no glee in his eyes, when he unwrapped it and placed it in his mouth.

By the time he had finished and had thrown the stick on the floor, right next to a discarded handkerchief, John had pushed cotton into his ear and wanted him to go to bed.

"But it's still light out."

"You're sick and your body needs all the rest it can get."

"Rest is dull."

But John in his doctor-mode was more stubborn, than even Sherlock on a bad day and seconds later he was hauled up. The room swam for a moment, the sudden shift in position made him dizzy, but John's arm was secure around his waist. The few feet to his bedroom exhausted him already and he welcomed the bed and cursed his legs.

He detested being sick. The blanket was pulled securely around him and Sherlock watched curiously as John moved around the room, pulled out a book and moved a chair closer to the bed. Only when John had sat down and had placed his feet on the mattress, crossed at the ankles, did Sherlock ask what he was doing.

A faint plush spread over John's features, "Well, my mother used to read to me, when I was sick, thought I'd do the same for you."

Sherlock turned on his side, pulled his legs close and stared at John, no one had ever read to him, when he was kid. His parents had left him in the care of the rather distant Nanny, whenever he was sick and he therefore Sherlock had never admitted to being sick in the first place. This was a nice change of things and even though he was still shivering with a slight fever, his heart warmed at John's offer. "I don't mind." Sherlock said and pulled the blanket closer. With John's voice calm and steady in the background, he drifted to sleep.

The End