"I'm going to check your temperature again," Mycroft decided after a peaceful half hour. Sherlock's eyelids fluttered, and he focused on Mycroft questioningly.
"Open up," the elder of the two repeated. "I need to see how you're doing."
"I don' like thermometers," Sherlock mumbled drowsily as Mycroft poked the device between his lips. Mycroft smiled. "Believe me, I know."
The thermometer beeped. Mycroft consulted it.
"102 on the dot," he told Sherlock. "You're getting better."
"Oh," Sherlock said, his voice fuzzy. He rolled over. "That's good."
"Who would have thought a little TLC would go such a long way?" Mycroft mumbled to himself as he resettled his sleepy little brother and began massaging his back. Sherlock raised his head a bit.
"What's TLC?" he asked his older brother. Mycroft grinned.
"It stands for tender loving care. It's something Mummy says sometimes, and frankly I don't know why I said it. I think you're making me go mad, brother mine."
"Doesn't take much," Sherlock murmured as he dropped his head back onto the pillow. Mycroft considered giving him a whack, but decided against it. There would be time for that later- when Sherlock was feeling a bit better.