Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
John had been sick about a week and had been receiving constant selfies from Sherlock at various crime scenes and trips to the morgue. Sherlock had been avoiding the flat as much as he could while John was sick and was at a pub when his phone buzzed.
I miss you
-John
Sherlock smiled and was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again.
I'm not sick anymore. Come home.
-John
Sherlock sighed and put his phone away.
"Girl trouble?" The bartender asked as he poured another drink.
"Yeah. My girl's sick." Sherlock replied. The guy frowned.
"And you're not taking care of her?" The guy asked before shaking his head and resuming his job. Sherlock hung his head, he didn't realize he was expected to care for his sick romantic interest. He dropped some cash on the counter before going to hail a cab to return to his flat.
By the time he got back to the flat he'd gotten two more texts from John asking for him to come home. He slipped inside and up to their shared living room. John was curled up in his chair, a cup of cold tea sitting un-drunk next to him. Sherlock hung up his coat and scarf before clearing up the cold tea. After, he got the sleeping John a blanket, and taking his temperature. It had gone down to his normal temperature. Sherlock thought about the best thing to do to take care of his boyfriend. John's eyes slowly fluttered open and landed on Sherlock.
"You're back." He mumbled.
"Yes I am here to take care of my ailing boyfriend." Sherlock replied.
"I'm not sick anymore, you smell like a bar, and wait, you're going to take care of me?" John asked the last part a bit incredulously.
"I know you're not sick anymore, I took your temperature. It came to my attention that I, as your boyfriend, was expected to care for you throughout the duration of your sickness. And, because I was not there to take care of you then, I am now. And I was in a pub." Sherlock replied.
"You're such a sap." John laughed and got up. Sherlock stood too and grabbed John by the bottom buttons of his shirt, yanking him close. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, knitting his fists in Sherlock's unruly hair. They kissed each other passionately.
John and Sherlock lay in bed, their legs hidden under the sheet. John's head was resting gently on Sherlock's chest and Sherlock's arms were crossed behind his head. John's hand was resting on the inside of Sherlock's upper thigh. "Thanks for taking care of me." John whispered. Sherlock said nothing for a long time.
"I often do not know the proper customs of normal society and do not feel myself bound by the need to conform as most do. You, however, make me a good person, and have never made me feel like a freak unlike the rest of the world. Thank you for taking care of me." Sherlock said at last, his arms laced themselves around John's waist. John laughed.
"I love you too." He smiled softly.