Hey guys, I've feel like I've been neglecting you. I'm sorry for the long wait, I'll be better with updates. Um, I have a new chapter for you all. I do hope you enjoy it. See ya.
John put down his fork quietly. Glancing around the table he saw that everyone else was still eating but him, and of course Sherlock. He leaned back, rubbed his stomach, and whispered in Sherlock's ear, "I think I'm getting used to eating like you." His stomach made an ugly noise; luckily the dining room was too loud for anyone to hear it but the two. "I can't eat another bite."
Sherlock laughed. "Then don't," he told him easily. He pushed around the potatoes on his plate. "No one will mind, especially not my mother if that's who you're worried about." John bit his lip as his stomach lurched again. Sherlock looked at him with concern. "Are you alright?"
John nodded weakly. "Of course," his voice was raspy. He wiped a hand across his forehead. "There used to be a time when I could finish a whole plate of food and now I can't even finish this one."
"You can't blame me on this one," Sherlock told him. He felt his forehead, nodding as he understood. "You have a fever. Mother," he stood up taking John's hand with him, "we're going back to my room."
John pulled at his hand effortlessly. "No, everyone isn't done eating," he stated looking at the others.
"John," Cecilia said calmly, "you're not feeling well, I'll let it pass this one time."
John shut his eyes and nodded. He stood up and leaned heavily into Sherlock's side as they walked out of the room. "I can't believe I had to do that," he groaned. He felt embarrassed. He hid his face the best he could in Sherlock's side.
"I think they're grateful that you're leaving the room and not getting them sick," Sherlock admitted. "The party is tomorrow and they all came to attend it. If something were to ruin that they would be very cross."
John nodded, feeling a bit dizzy. "I didn't feel this sick when I woke up," he told him. "I didn't feel this sick until it was mentioned to tell you the truth."
"You were forcing yourself not to believe you were sick," he explained. He pushed open his door and laid John down on the bed. "I'm going to undress you now, don't think of it as a sexual advancement."
John laughed. "Don't worry," he said. He helped get undressed before crawling under the covers. "Do you have medicine?"
Sherlock nodded silently and left the room. John stared at the door, waiting for him to come back. It was opened once again and Sherlock moved into the room with a cup and two tiny pills in his hand. "Here," he said handing them down to John.
John gratefully swallowed them, his stomach lurching again. "I hope I can hold down whatever is in my stomach," he admitted with a frown as he pushed himself further down on the bed. Sherlock sat on the bed next to him and ran his fingers through his hair. He loved the feeling, letting his eyes droop as he laid there. He fell asleep after a few minutes.
X
John didn't know when he woke up. His eyes roamed around the ceiling. The room was silent for the most part except for the wind that passed through the open window. He sat up, sweat making his hair stick to his head. He climbed out of bed and got dressed. He needed more medicine.
He ventured slowly out of the room, each step making him a bit dizzy. Walking down the hall way he noticed figures standing at the window. They turned to face him and John's stomach dropped. 'Not them,' he thought, 'anyone but them.' He shut his eyes and tried to walk past them but stopped when he heard them say something.
"John Watson," they said in unison. John hadn't seen them much the last time he was there but knew they were two people he didn't want to deal with.
He could barely remember their names, knew they both started with 'B'. "Hello," he said turning back to them, "nice to see you two again."
"Bridget," Bridget told him with a smile.
"Brian," Brian supplied. "I never believed I would see you again."
John resisted the urge to rub his temples. "I didn't either," he admitted. "If you don't mind, I would like to go find Sherlock now." He turned on his heel and started down the hall again.
"Sherlock was devastated without you," they said together.
John's hand twitched and stopped. "Thank you," he said. He could see why Sherlock didn't want to come; his family didn't seem to like him. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Was the break up the reason Sherlock started drugs?" Bridget asked.
Brian hummed. "I believe so, but we all knew he would go down that road," he told her. "He was never right in the head."
John took in a deep breath, the comment was directed towards him; he wasn't going to yell or fight them. He was too tired to do anything. "I'll be leaving now," he stated over his shoulder and left them behind.
The sick feeling in his stomach returned. He moved slowly down the stairs wishing Sherlock would appear so he didn't have to search for him. He found himself at the entrance to the living room where several people were sitting around. He couldn't see Sherlock anywhere but spotted Cecilia. "Mrs. Holmes," he said walking up to her.
"Please John, Cecilia," she repeated her request. Her eyes softened. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," John lied. "Where's Sherlock?" His heart was pounding; his energy was depleting fast. He ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Cecilia gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder. "He's in his father's study," she told him. "Come on, I'll take you."
She led him down a few halls before coming to a dark door. John shot his eyes towards Cecilia, receiving a nod before she left. He rapped quickly on the door, not sure what to do.
"Honestly, can't you leave me alone?" Sherlock growled as he opened the door. He paused and frowned when he saw it was John. "Sorry, I didn't mean you. There are just people who want to talk to me and I would wish them to stop. Come in." He ushered him and shut the door behind them. "You're still sick."
John nodded, tried to focus his eyes on the man. "I need more medicine," his voice was going. He took in large breaths, and felt himself being guided to the couch in the room. He watched Sherlock move away from him before everything went dark.
X
John opened his eyes again, not much later, and saw two pills and water. He swallowed the medicine and looked up towards Sherlock. "Thank you," he groaned. Sherlock sat down next to him and pulled him to his chest before lying down. John put his face in the crook of his neck and shut his eyes. "I ran into your cousins, the twins, Bridget and Brian I think their names are."
"How did that go?" Sherlock laughed carding his fingers through his hair.
John shut his eyes and shook his head. "Why does everyone think I want to hear about you past drug use?" he asked. "I already know about it, you're not doing it now, so why? Are they trying to make me feel bad?" He was getting worked up which made him feel worse. He just wanted to spend a week relaxing but the people around him were making it impossible. Everyone seemed to be against Sherlock; they must have remembered every bad they he did instead of focusing on the good. He knew Sherlock was a good man; he seen him work, seen him save lives. "Why can't everyone see that?"
Sherlock shrugged. "They're like maggots. They only feed on the bad meat, which happens to be my past," he explained.
John hummed as Sherlock started rubbing his back. "Sherlock, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize John, I'm tired of it," Sherlock told him. "You're the last person I want to apologize."
John smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you Sherlock Holmes," he said.
"And I love you John Watson," Sherlock smiled back. "Do you want to go back up to my room?"
John nodded and stood up; stumbling and being caught by Sherlock. "Still a bit dizzy," he shook it off. He grasped Sherlock's hand and kissed his fingers. "Let's go."
X
John slipped into the bed. He watched as Sherlock dressed into his pajamas before getting in next to him. He wordlessly turned on his side. He sighed as Sherlock's arm wound around his waist and was pulled closer to him.
"Good night John," Sherlock whispered in his ear.
John shut his eyes, shivered as Sherlock's hand slipped under his shirt and settled on his stomach. "Good night," he murmured back. He listened to the other's breathing, wishing he was able to stop whatever it was that happened years before. He pushed the thoughts from his head, focusing only on what was happening then. He fell asleep, hoping everything would work out when he woke up.
I don't know why I made John sick. It has no value what-so-ever. Please review, tell me what you think. I need to have feedback. Next chapter is the party, yay! Are we all going to dance? Okay, I'll leave you guys alone now. BYE!