Sherlock yawned when he woke up, rolling over in the bed. He was... oddly exhausted. Like he hadn't slept in days. Now that was possible, he knew, but he also felt like he had been sleeping, too. It didn't make much sense, but he wasn't trying to figure it out.

He, eventually, tried to get out of bed. It didn't go over well. There was a general feeling of malaise clinging to every ounce of his body, preventing him from moving. No more than had he sat up, John came barging into the bedroom.

"Well, I see you're awake."

Sherlock glanced up at John. "You look hideous, John."

"... You're feeling better, too." John turned and walked out again. Sherlock frowned, watching him go.

Sherlock made to stand but his legs didn't cooperate. They collapsed out from under him and he just barely caught himself against the wall, slumping back against it with a shaky breath.

He still hadn't worked up enough strength to try walking again (he barely had enough to stand) when John walked back in.

"Sit down."

"Actually, I was walking."

"Didn't get very far, now did you?"

Sherlock made a noncommental noise, watching John as he sat down a bowl on the night stand. He tried to detect what it was to no avail; his nose was stuffy and it made trying to smell virtually impossible. Disgruntled, he leaned slightly to look into the bowl; oh, it was simply chicken noodle soup. Dull.

"Come sit."

"I would really rather not."

He coughed slightly, flinching slightly. He really hoped John hadn't noticed that. But John noticed everything when it came to things such as this, things such as sickness.

"Sit down, Sherlock. Eat."

"I don't eat when I'm working," he replied automatically, although he pushed away from the wall and managed to stumbled the foot or two back to bed without looking so much of an idiot.

"Yes, well, you don't sleep when you're working, either, and that's all you've been doing. So, eat."

Sherlock tucked into the soup without much complaint. He was hungry, although he wouldn't admit that to John.

"You've been... sick, Sherlock. So sick," John muttered, sinking into the bed. Sherlock tightened his grip on the bowl as not to spill. It was very good soup, after all. His sense of taste was not impaired yet. "It's been a day and a half." Sherlock's attention was jolted by those words. It had been a day and a half? He had been asleep for a day and a half? Was that even remotely possible, for him?

"... Really. I hadn't noticed," he replied, taking a spoonful of soup and blowing on it.

"Your fever finally went down. It was at forty, Sherlock. Forty degrees celsius." John didn't particularly sound angry or worried. He just sounded tired.

"That's a bit not good."

"A bit..." John trailed off, half laughing under his breath. "Yeah, that's a bit not good."

They went off into a comfortable silence, Sherlock eating his soup and John watching him. The silence was comfortable but Sherlock wasn't wholly comfortable with the staring down he was receiving. He just ignored it and went on his way.

He had finished his soup not much later and John took the bowl out. Sherlock was finally in complete silence, that didn't involve eyes being on him. It was... refreshing.

He yawned, pushing himself into a sitting position again. He was still a bit woozy but he was determined to walk to the bathroom by himself. It was only a few feet away, after all.

No more than had he put his mental abilities to getting up, there was a hand clasping his shoulder. He almost jumped- almost. He looked back around at John, wondering how the doctor had managed to sneak up on him. Maybe his resistance was down a lot further than he actually thought.

"Time to rethink," Sherlock murmured under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"And where did you think you were going?"

"Out for a stroll, John."

"Very funny. Lay down-"

"John-"

"-or let me help you."

"I'm fine." They stared at each other. John's gaze was tired, mixed with anger, irritation, and concern. Oh yes, there was an overabundance of concern. Sherlock didn't like it. "I can walk to the bathroom. It's right there, in case you forgot."

"I really don't think you can. You just collapsed into the wall trying to stand." John knew how to irritate him. Sherlock hated that, too. "Let me help." He removed his hand from Sherlock's shoulder and offered it.

Sherlock stared at it for a moment, contemplative...

...before flopping backwards onto the duvet, drawing the extra blankets around him and over his head.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock didn't respond, only tightened his grip on the blankets in response. He thought it was response enough.

"For God's sake, if you have to use the loo, then go!"

"I'm perfectly fine," Sherlock replied, voice muffled by the blankets. He was fine for a few more hours. Transitional epithilium worked wonders and he had a strong tolerance for this sort of thing. He would have let John assist him if he-

No, no, he wouldn't have.

Sherlock had realized something, upon waking up. He had been overtaken by a rush of awareness, and with it, a wave of disgust.

John's touch. He remembered that he had been pondering John's touch.

He had been upset. John had put a hand on him. It had calmed him down. The mechanics had been simple enough, but yet, it had baffled Sherlock to the point of being enraged. He had figured out the meaning behind the touch. He had figured out why John had done it to begin with.

It was sentiment.

Touch was a form of comfort, and comfort was something that John obviously had to excel in, being a doctor and all. So, that careless touch, the thumping he'd received and the light rubbing of his back afterwards, was something that was programmed into John's hard drive. And... hence the wave of disgust... Sherlock had fallen victim to this form of sentiment. This comfort had... comforted him.

It made him want to vomit. Again.

Sherlock was avoiding physical contact now, or trying to. He didn't need to become a victim to any more of those creature comforts. He did not want to be put through any more of them. He didn't want to become climatized to such things and so, if that meant putting off the bathroom for a few hours, so be it.

John muttered something unconstructive under his breath before Sherlock felt his blankets being pulled away; he didn't argue simply for the fact that he knew he still had a fever and that, while his mind was saying he was cold (this one instance, his mind was wrong, and that's really what he hated about illness), his body was actually hot.

Irrationally, he could feel himself dropping off into sleep again. That had been all he had been doing, hadn't it, sleeping? What a waste of time... What a dull, boring waste of time...

The audacity of Sherlock Holmes was something that John was ninety-nine perfect sure he was never going to figure out. He didn't even say 'thank you' once! Not once! John had taken care of him for almost two days, running on little sustenance himself, to recieve only a rude brush off when he tried to help Sherlock to his feet! The nasty little bugger wouldn't even accept help to the loo... In all of his talents, Sherlock Holmes was a lazy, arrogant, ungrateful sod.

John sighed, the noise echoing through the quiet of the flat. He raised a hand to rub at his face wearily, pressing hard on his eyes and trying to work out the exhaustion. It wouldn't work. He needed sleep. Sherlock was fine for now. John just needed sleep.

Just needed some sleep...

God, sleep sounded nice right now. Too bad there was no rest for the weary.

I'm getting into a bit of a 'short chapter' territory. Let me apologize ahead of time. I planned to end this story at the next chapter, but... It's a hit! I love that it's a hit! And I know that if you stretch things out, it can get tedious; however, I tihnk I found a good twist in the plot. I like where I have it going. I hope you guys will, too.

The twist occurs in the next chapter.

Anyhow, Sherlock's getting better. :)

So, any ideas you guys are looking for? I'm not going to change my plot or my relationship status (they are going to stay just friends, so that's not my twist), but any little moments, little things that are random that you would like to see, if I can work them in, I will. Just let me know via a review.

I love your thoughts and continued patronage! Keep on reviewing! Thank you!