Chapter 10: Sick day

John sat at work as his stomach slowly began to churn uncomfortably. He felt his forehead, he was getting sick and needed to go home so as to not risk getting some of his patients sick; he asked one of the other doctors in the clinic if she'd mind covering his appointments for the day and after he informed the secretary he made his way home. He slowly walked up the stairs to 221B, carefully as he didn't want to further upset his unsettled stomach. As he opened the door to the flat he walked in on Sherlock wearing his black neck tie like an eye patch, a cut off broom handle in his hand, kicking the air and screaming "Arrr, You'll never catch me alive!" in a pirate-y voice as Isabella wiggled around in John's seat laughing. John stopped dead in his tracks, he felt as though his smile would split his face in two, but he couldn't control it. Sherlock turned to find John standing in the doorway and immediately straightened his posture, pulled the tie down off his face so it hung at his neck; his mouth hung agape, embarrassment evident as he struggled to find words. Sherlock looked like a deer caught in head lights.

John couldn't help but laugh, Sherlock took the slightest step back. John looked at Sherlock, he almost seemed insecure. "So this is the infamous game of pirates I keep hearing about from Mrs. Hudson?"

Sherlock scowled slightly.

"I'd ask if I could play, but I'm a bit under the weather, mind keeping it down a bit?" John did his best to smile a supportive smile to let Sherlock know there was nothing to be embarrassed about, John found the whole thing rather endearing.

"You're sick?" Sherlock moved closer to John, embarrassment forgotten as he placed the back of his hand to John's forehead.

John laughed slightly as he removed Sherlock's hand from his forehead, "Sherlock, I'm fine. I just need to get some rest. Besides, I'm the doctor here, not you." He teased.

Sherlock watched as John went and lay down on the couch. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a nap?"

"Yes, but why on the couch?"

"Because Isabella sleeps upstairs in my room too, and I don't want her to get sick."

Sherlock understood that, "Yes, obviously, but why on the couch?"

"Well, where else am I supposed to sleep?" John was starting to get irritated, headache kicking in.

"Take my room."

John and Sherlock stared at each other for a few moments as Isabella wiggled in her seat, giggling up a storm, "I can't take your room."

Sherlock almost seemed offended, "Why not?"

"Because, Sherlock, because," John was definitely stalling, "it's messy."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "The entire flat is messy John. I hardly see why that matters. Besides, my room is definitely the tidiest."

John almost laughed as he desperately thought up as many excuses as he could, "I can't sleep in your bed though; I could get you sick too!"

Sherlock scoffed, "Oh please, I hardly sleep anyway. Just use my room until you're feeling better and I can get Mrs. Hudson to wash my bedding later."

"You really think Mrs. Hudson will just do your laundry for you?" Sherlock shot him a look that screamed 'really?' John could see there was no point in arguing, his headache was too much for him now, he raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed it, trying to ease some of the pain away. "Okay, fine, fine I'll take your room." Sherlock smiled then bounced off into his room, John followed with a very confused expression on his face.

Sherlock returned from his room holding a long rectangular black box just as John was about to enter, "I'll be needing this later, and I didn't want to have to wake you to fetch it."

"I'm sure you could have gotten in and out of your own room without making too much noise."

"It was under the mattress."

"Oh?" John furrowed his brows as he looked from Sherlock to the bed he was supposed to sleep in, "What else is under the mattress?"

"Nothing of importance." Sherlock guided John into his room and gestured to the bed, "Sleep, feel better. Don't worry about Isabella." Then in an instant Sherlock disappeared from the room and John was left alone in the genius's bed room. John stood awkwardly for a moment, taking in the sights and smells. He had been in Sherlock's room a few times… the last time was not a good occasion. Mrs. Hudson had been very good about it, didn't expect him to clear out Sherlock's stuff. He went in the room once in an attempt to help Mrs. Hudson, but had barely breached the threshold when he had to turn and leave, in the end they never did clear out even half his stuff; which in retrospect was a very good thing. Now he stood in the room, and took some time to absorb all the sights and smells that came to him.

The room was actually very clean, and natural light flowed in through the window. This room was considerably nicer than his, and he kind of was excited to sleep in the larger of the two rooms. It smelt very strongly of Sherlock though, it almost bothered him just how much enjoyed the sent. Then John realized, he needed to go up to his room to get his pajamas. With a sigh he walked out of the room and Sherlock stopped him at the end of the hallway, "What are you doing?"

"I need my pajamas."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow then gently pushed John back towards his bedroom, "I'll go get them, you go lay down."

"Sherlock, I'm not a child"

"Go lay down John!" Sherlock spoke over him as he ran up the stairs to John's room.

"You don't even know where they a-"John began to argue, but Sherlock reappeared with John's favorite pair of pajamas in his hands. "Ah, well apparently you do."

Sherlock handed John the pajamas then again lead him to his bedroom, "Go, sleep." Sherlock then closed the door after John had entered the room. Hands akimbo on his hips, Sherlock then turned his attention to Isabella pulling the neck tie back up over his eye, "Well, Bella the Brave, what have yee to say for yerself and your dreadful attempt at a mutiny?" Isabella laughed at Sherlock's best pirate voice.

Awkwardly, in Sherlock's room, John changed into pajamas. He then moved over to the bed, he was almost tempted to check what else was under the mattress but decided that he really didn't want to know, so he hesitantly got under the covers. The pillow smelt very strongly of Sherlock. Since no one was around John inhaled the scent deeply. It wasn't long before John fell asleep.

John didn't know how long he had slept, but he felt much better, so much so that when he was suddenly being jerked awake by his eccentric flat mate he didn't even mind. "John! John! I know I told you to sleep, but wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

John sighed as he slowly sat up, Sherlock still shaking his shoulders, "what is it?"

"Are you cognitively functioning yet, John? I don't want to have to repeat myself."

"Ugh! Sherlock!" John looked directly at Sherlock, tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows, "Sherlock, what. Is. It."

Sherlock saw a twinkle of murder in John's eyes, he decided that John was probably awake enough to hear what he had to say; "Isabella said her first word." Sherlock was beaming and he ran out of the room, expecting John to follow, which he quickly did.

John, still in his pajamas, entered the living room to find a very unimpressed Mycroft Holmes holding his baby daughter Isabella. Sherlock seemed to read the curious expression on John's face because he leaned close to John and muttered, "I thought it would be funny."

Mycroft scoffed, "yes, how entertaining. Please, Sherlock, let's get back to business."

Sherlock walked over to him while rolling his eyes and kneeled next to Isabella and encouraged her to say it again. John watched as Isabella laughed then announced, "dull." Sherlock looked so proud and John couldn't help but laugh as Mycroft grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, how lovely. Now, back to what I was saying, I have information that could lead to Moriarty's right hand man."

"Really?" John was almost excited before Sherlock scoffed and shook his head.

"He doesn't even have his name."

"No, but I do have information on a rendezvous he has with one of their main assassins."

"Dull." Isabella laughed and began to wiggle where she sat on Mycroft's lap and he rolled his eyes as he sighed.

"That's the context in which she used it earlier." Sherlock was beaming, he was so proud. John laughed into his hand, it was pretty great.

"Sherlock." Mycroft admonished.

"Well, we already crashed one of those meetings and it just turned out they were just going to kill the thief anyway, not to mention Sherlock ended up getting a concussion." John said as he shrugged, "what makes you think this will be any different?"

"We don't." Mycroft admitted as he tilted his head up in an annoyed, yet still very arrogant gesture, "but at this point we simply must look into every lead."

John crossed his arms and nodded, he then turned to face Sherlock and gave him the 'pay attention' look. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but faced his brother anyway, "Fine, Mycroft, we'll look into it. All though with all the King's horses and all the King's men at your disposal, one would really think that you'd be quite capable of looking into the matter."

"Yes, well," another of Mycroft's grimace-smiles, "I really haven't the time with the riots in- well, you don't really need to know about that, very hush-hush."

John and Sherlock shared a look, "Yes, Mycroft we all know you're very powerful." Sherlock scoffed releasing a laugh from John's lips. Sherlock smiled at the reaction.

"But I'm going to go back to sleep, I'm still quite tired; nice to see you Mycroft." John turned back towards Sherlock's room and closed the door after him.

"So John's sleeping in your room now?" Mycroft said with his brows raised, Isabella looking up at him in a sort of awe.

"He's ill and as he shares a room with Isabella, and does not wish to get her sick as well, it only makes sense that he would take my room as I rarely use it." Sherlock stated as he picked Isabella off Mycroft's lap.

Mycroft tentatively rubbed his hands together as though they were dirty and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it; giving Sherlock a smug look as he placed a file on the paper covered coffee table before he stood and left the flat.

Sherlock looked down at Isabella, "That's my brother Mycroft." He looked up at where his brother had just left, then back down to Isabella, "And you're absolutely right, when he's not being annoying, he's just plain dull." Isabella laughed and Sherlock smirked.

When John woke up the next day he left Sherlock's room to find Mrs. Hudson in the living room playing with Isabella. She was holding the stuffed bee she had gifted to her and jiggling it whilst making buzzing sounds. Isabella laughed and swatted at the stuffed bumblebee and Mrs. Hudson smiled a very broad, genuine smile. "Morning" John greeted her, giving her a mild start as she turned to face him.

"Oh, that's right; Sherlock told me you were taking his room." Somehow her smile managed to grow even larger with secret knowledge that he didn't really want her to have.

"Erm, yeah, just while I'm sick, I don't want Isabella to catch what I've got." John sat down on the couch, a reasonable distance away from Mrs. Hudson and Isabella.

They sat there for a while, no one speaking, Mrs. Hudson just buzzing and Isabella laughing then John spoke up, "I finally walked in on a game of pirates yesterday." John and Mrs. Hudson both smiled widely at this.

"He's so sweet with her," she nodded, "not that I can say I'm surprised."

"Yea, no he's great."

"All though one day I caught him playing with an actual sword!"

John's mouth dropped at this.

"So I have him that broom handle he uses now."

"Ah, well. Thank you."

A few moments of silence passed before they both began laughing again. Once the laughter died down John asked, "Where is he, by the way?"

"Oh, he ran out for something or other. He didn't exactly say."

John nodded and stretched out on the couch.

A few hours later when Sherlock returned, Mrs. Hudson and John turned their attention to him where he had appeared in the doorway, both giving looks of surprise as they noticed what Sherlock was holding.

"Where'd you get that?" John asked, surprisingly calm.

"From Roberto, I solved the murder of his brother a few years back when the police couldn't. So he gave me these for free of charge when I asked him." Sherlock was beaming as the box in his hands buzzed with life.

"Where are you going to put them?"

Sherlock looked at him curiously, "here."

"No, they don't get to stay inside!"

"They're completely docile, John, I assure you."

"No, no they go outside. Okay?"

"But you said I could keep them."

"When I said you could keep bees I didn't mean in our living room!"

Sherlock scoffed, "Fine, I'll set them up on the roof. But for now they need to stay inside, I don't have an adequate structure for them outside." John went to protest but was cut off, "Don't worry, they can't get out of their container, they'll be fine living off the can of syrup until I can make suitable accommodation for them." Sherlock put the box down on the table in front of John and went up to the roof.

John and Mrs. Hudson both leaned closer to the bees to get a better look, leaning back when Sherlock returned. Sherlock quickly crossed the room and felt John's forehead with the back of his hand, this time John simply rolled his eyes instead of removing the hand from his head. "Your condition has improved."

"Yes, Sherlock, I know that." John smiled in disbelief as he looked to Mrs. Hudson who was beaming, almost on the verge of laughter.

"I'll leave you two to it." Mrs. Hudson stood and left the flat as quickly and unobtrusively as she could.

Sherlock watched her leave then as the last sight of her was disappearing through the doorway, sat down next to John, their arms and shoulders touching. Sherlock leaned forward to look closer at the bees with a big smile on his face.

"Why do you love bees so much?" John couldn't help but ask it, he just couldn't figure it out for the life of him.

Sherlock looked back at John then straightened his posture and turned towards him, "Why wouldn't I love bees?"

John shrugged.

"Can you really say that you don't also love bees?" Sherlock pressed.

John looked at the bees, leaned in for a closer look, and then returned his attention to Sherlock, "Now that I see them, I do have to admit they're pretty cute."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, that is not how he would describe bees, but he would accept it, "see? Everyone loves bees."

John was about to argue that people who had a bee allergy or had been stung by bees probably don't love them, but he decided against it, as he was enjoying the moment and found himself not really minding that he was sick.

A/N: In case you're wondering, the type of bees Sherlock brought home are Carniolan honeybees. Thanks again for reading, and again thank you for all of you who favourite, follow and review, I appreciate it :)