Sherlock sneezed. John rolled his eyes.
"I warned you, you know."
Sherlock pouted slightly, shivering inside his massive coat and curling up slightly.
"But no, illness is for stupid people. Clever people can't get ill. Genius' are indestructible."
Sherlock looked ready to snap back a retort but sneezed in the attempt. He settled for sliding back on the sofa, pulling a blanket over himself, and lying his hands either side of his temple, attempting to think through the raging headache.
John couldn't help but feel a sliver of sympathy. "I'll fetch you some hot cocoa. My mum used to do that for me when I had a cold."
Sherlock nodded absentmindedly, for once not making a snarky comment, instead choosing to ignore John, reaching into the recesses of his brain to solve his current case.
John did as he'd said, having cocoa on the side of the table within five minutes. Sherlock grunted something that may have been thank you, but being Sherlock was probably something along the lines of bored.
He pulled the blankets up over his head and wriggled like some sort of demented worm.
John couldn't help chuckle at the sight.
Sherlock made a noise of protest.
"Come on Sherlock. It was your own fault. You were the one who went out in the rain without a brolly."