A.N.- I've been stockpiling this fluff stuff for a while, and now that I'm going through writer's block, I'm writing more of it. This one is old, but I will tell you I'm working on a Victorian!DBS piece to put in this story. (And Sherlock is going to be gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.)
Anyway.
"You need to get up."
"No."
"Get up."
"No. That's not how being sick works!" Madeline snapped hoarsely. She rolled over and pulled the sheets up to her nose. Sherlock frowned.
"You need to get up and work through it. That's the best way to get through a bout of something." He said. Madeline rolled over and glared at him from under the sheet.
"When was the last time you were sick?" She demanded. "It's really not that easy." She tried to inhale through her nose, but wound up in a coughing fit and had to sit up in bed to get it to subside. Sherlock panicked and brought her a cup of water that she graciously accepted.
"Do we have any medicine in the kitchen?" Madeline asked. Sherlock winced.
"I may or may not have used the cold and pain medicines in the cabinets for experiments." He said. "You didn't need them, and I didn't need them, so I put them to use!" He said in defense when Madeline glared at him. She didn't have the energy to maintain her glower for long, her head began to pound and she had to lie back down with a groan.
"I'll run to the nearest Tesco and buy some, then." Sherlock said.
"Yeah you do that." Madeline murmured, already rolling over and ready to go back to sleep. Sherlock left quickly, leaving Madeline in the blissful silence of 221B. After a while, Sherry hopped onto the bed and Madeline held the covers up so the cat could curl up against her chest. Madeline dozed on and off while Sherry purred quietly.
She couldn't tell how long Sherlock had been gone, but it seemed like hours. She kicked the covers back when she felt her fever returning. Madeline reached for the glass of water Sherlock had left by the bedside and downed the rest of it, then dozed off again. When she woke up, she was burning. She stumbled out of bed and only made it as far as the bathroom. She refilled the cup in the bathroom sink and then staggered back into the bedroom and collapsed into bed with black spots and stars flashing in her eyes and a ringing sound in her ears. She waited a few minutes, then rolled to the other side of the bed to grab her phone. She quickly sent Sherlock a text.
Hey, can you grab some cough drops 2? His reply pinged back a minute later.
Of course. –SH
I like the pink ones. Can you get those?
I will. –SH
Madeline dropped her phone and sighed, then shivered and pulled the covers back over her body again. Sherry jumped off of the bed and stalked off, leaving Madeline alone. She fell into a restless sleep again until she woke up sweating and with her head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton. She drank the rest of the water she'd gotten earlier; but that didn't really help. Madeline tried to sit up and get out of the bed again to get more water from the bathroom, but her head suddenly felt like it was in a vice and the entire room spun. She collapsed back into the bed, and when she could see clearly again she picked up her phone and texted Sherlock.
Sherlock. He didn't answer immediately, so she texted him again.
Sherlock.
Hey. Sherlock.
I need you.
Sherlock I need you to do something.
Hello?
HEY.
HELP ME.
I'M DYING.
SHERLOCK.
She continued to text him until she began to feel cold again and her exhaustion overtook her need for more water. She fell back asleep, and stayed asleep until fifteen minutes later when Sherlock burst into the flat with multiple Tesco bags in hand and a murderous expression.
"What happened?" He demanded, scaring Madeline awake. She sat up in bed quickly and groaned when her body protested against moving so fast.
"W- nothing happened." She said. The detective dropped the Tesco bags on the bed and pulled out his phone.
"Then you didn't text me all of these?" He asked dryly. Madeline laid back down.
"Sorry, you weren't answering. I was trying to text you and see if you could get me some more water. I couldn't get out of bed." She told him. The detective rolled his eyes and grabbed the empty glass from the bedside table, then returned and handed it to Madeline.
"I wouldn't have been able to grab water for you even if I had received your texts." He said, "I was miles away." She shrugged and thanked him for the water, then went into another coughing fit. Sherlock helped her sit up and waited quietly until her coughing had subsided, then passed her one of the Tesco bags. She pulled out multiple bottles of cough syrup, packets of acetaminophen and motrin, and bags upon bags of cough drops. There was even a random bottle of PeptoBismol.
"You said you liked the pink ones; but there were many pink ones, so I got two of each kind I could find." He told her. Madeline smiled at him.
"You're amazing." She told him softly. "I absolutely love you." Sherlock threw Sherry a smug look as the cat stalked back into the room and hopped onto the bed.
"I'd kiss you, but I don't want to get you sick." Madeline said, opening up some of the medicine Sherlock had bought and taking a dose to help with her headache and sinuses. Then she unwrapped a cough drop and held it in her mouth. Sherlock shrugged, still smug as a peacock.
"I wouldn't mind." He said offhandedly. Madeline laughed.
"Yeah no. I can't imagine trying to take care of you when you're sick. I'd have to call Mycroft for tips." She teased, laughing at the bitter look that crossed Sherlock's face. "You're more than welcome to lay down and talk with me, though." She offered, patting the other side of the bed and knowing full well that the detective would have a terrible headcold in a few days' time.
