AN: Blame my neighbour for why this took a while. He's building a car from scratch; it is literally just the shell of the car. It's been distracting and annoying me all week.
"How is he?" Greg asked when he entered the kitchen.
John looked up from the tea he was making. "It's worse than his normal ones." John replied with a grimace.
Lestrade winced slightly and looked past John and towards Sherlock's bedroom door.
John sighed, "How does he do it, Greg? He says the migraine started this morning at eleven, I didn't notice until a few hours later when he threw up everywhere, even then he refused to rest. I've only just been able to get him into bed and that was after he decided to throw up all over the criminal." John rubbed a hand over his face and passed the DI a cup of tea. "How does he do it? I've seen stronger men pass out over less."
Lestrade shrugged his shoulders, "Stubbornness and sheer will power?" He supplied.
"He needs to learn when to rest." John replied drinking from his tea.
"Unlikely, Doctor Watson, my brother can be very stubborn when his mind is focused on a case."
John turned around to see a new occupant in the kitchen. "And who let you in, Mycroft?" John asked, he didn't remember hearing the doorbell, unless Sherlock's broken it again.
"Your landlady." Mycroft replied as if it were obvious.
John shook his head, "Of course."
"And how is my brother, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft asked in a tone of what John believed portrayed concern.
Lestrade put his cup down on the kitchen counter and spoke up before John could. "Shouldn't you already know that?"
Mycroft turned to him, "Contrary to belief, Inspector, I cannot and do not watch Sherlock all the time."
"But shouldn't you at least know that Sherlock's in bed with a migraine?" John pointed out, slightly confused about why Mycroft was here.
"I should, yes." Mycroft replied sounding annoyed, "Had Sherlock not destroyed the cameras I had around Baker Street."
"And what about a phone call, Mycroft?" John asked.
Mycroft had a tight smile, "You didn't answer."
John's eyebrows came together and he started patting down his pockets. "I must have left it in my coat." He mumbled apologetically. John shot a worried glance to his left, looking down the hall and at Sherlock's bedroom door. "I should probably check on him, make sure he hasn't choked on his own vomit or thrown the cold compress away."
"Ah, Doctor Watson." Mycroft called interrupting John's thought process and making him come to a halt by the fridge, "That has never worked."
John stopped confused, "What do you mean?"
"I have been managing Sherlock with his migraines for many years, we have tried the cold compress solution many times, not once has it ever worked on Sherlock." Mycroft explained slowly.
John shook his head, "It has done before. I came home from work and found Sherlock with it on his forehead. Mycroft, Sherlock's been having trouble controlling the pain, we're trying new ways to control them and calm the pain. Today it's with a cold compress, next time will be caffeine."
"Caffeine?" Lestrade repeated confused, "I thought you wanted him to sleep, won't caffeine wake him up?"
"At a certain point in his migraine, if Sherlock were to drink coffee, then it will help expand the constricted blood vessel and hopefully calm the pain." John explained. "I've had several patients come to me when they've wanted a new prescription; they seem to believe it works."
Lestrade nodded dumbly as he tried to make sense of what he was just told. He would need to remember that when he had a stress induced one brought on by work.
John disappeared into Sherlock's bedroom, when he returned Lestrade and Mycroft were talking quietly to each other, Lestrade was in Sherlock's chair and Mycroft was on the couch.
John sighed and put the cold compress into the fridge wishing Mycroft was actually wrong for once and that the cold compress did actually work. John shook his head, picked up his tea and made his way to the living room to sit on his chair.
"And how is my brother now?" Mycroft asked his voice holding an unrecognisable tone.
John looked towards Mycroft and then drank some more of his tea. "The bucket is still empty, so he hasn't vomited again, he isn't asleep but he isn't hiding under his pillow anymore which is a good sign." John then sighed, "You were right." John admitted his voice sounding disappointed, "The cold compress hasn't helped as much as I hoped it would."
"As I said, John, I've been managing Sherlock with his migraines for many years, it has never worked then and it won't work now." Mycroft repeated sounding slightly smug but a little dismal.
John opened his mouth to reply but was halted when he heard the familiar sound of Sherlock's door squeaking open. John frowned, put his tea down on the floor beside his chair and stood up. Sherlock trudged out of the room slowly, his gait was slow and unsteady likely to still be dizzy or nauseous, his head was down to stop the offending light coming in from the windows, a blue blanket covered his trembling shoulders, and he appeared to be heading towards the couch. Though they couldn't possibly understand why Sherlock had chosen to leave the dark confines of his bedroom for the bright living room. John walked over to Sherlock and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and stopping him from continuing.
"Sherlock, stop, you need to be in bed resting." John murmured softly yet sternly.
The only response was a moan as Sherlock tried to shrug John's hand off his shoulder.
"No, Sherlock, you need to rest."
Sherlock slowly made his way to the couch, ignoring John's orders to return to bed. Once on the couch, Sherlock had wriggled around slowly and carefully so that he doesn't jostle his head or stomach too much. Sherlock had curled up under the blanket and was slowly bringing his aching head down onto Mycroft's shoulder.
Mycroft tutted quietly as he looked down at Sherlock and wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. He was looking down at Sherlock with what could have only been concern as he raised a hand and stroked a stray curl away from Sherlock's eyes.
John blinked, was his mouth open? He closed his mouth and blinked once more, he had never seen Sherlock snuggle up to anyone, let alone Mycroft of all people. He looked towards Lestrade, who appeared almost as stunned.
Mycroft looked up from his little brother, "Shall we continue?" He said, his voice quieter than before so not to cause Sherlock anymore pain.
John nodded, slowly getting over his shock and sitting back down in his chair. John looked towards Sherlock, hating how stubborn the younger man was as he winced in pain once more.
Lestrade cleared his throat causing John and Mycroft to turn towards him and then continued talking. It was hard to keep his voice quiet but still want Mycroft to hear him.
Mycroft's attention kept drifting from the conversation to Sherlock as he waited for him to fall asleep. He had a hand in Sherlock's curls and was stroking them trying to comfort him; he leaned down slightly to whisper in Sherlock's ear.
"You need to be in bed, Lock."
The only response was a slight moan and small shake of Sherlock's head.
"It's darker and quieter in there." Mycroft pointed out.
This time there was only a small shake of his head.
"Stop being stubborn, Lock. You're in pain."
Sherlock curled up tighter and shifted his head slightly on Mycroft's shoulder. Mycroft shook his head slowly and rested his chin in Sherlock's hair as he thought on what to do. Shortly after, Mycroft began humming a soft melody, only humming; he didn't want Lestrade or John hearing him, nor did he want to cause Sherlock anymore pain using his voice. It was an old melody, something their mother used to sing to them when they were ill or upset, and he used when their mother couldn't. It had its desired effect, he could feel Sherlock slowly relaxing under him, his pained breaths slowing down, the quiet moans he thought Mycroft couldn't hear decreasing, Sherlock's breathing deepened and he was finally asleep.
"I have been waiting for him to do that since we returned." John mumbled relieved when he saw that Sherlock was finally asleep.
Mycroft paid no attention to John; he looked down at Sherlock and moved slowly, trying to remove Sherlock from him without waking the younger man up. It proved more difficult than expected, what with Sherlock letting out small pained moans when his head was jostled too much and his hand reaching out from the blanket to hold onto Mycroft's jacket. Mycroft didn't react as he gently pried Sherlock's fingers off him and tucked them back under the blanket. Mycroft took one last look at Sherlock, his hand stroking through the younger man's curls once more and turned to face the other two men in the room.
"Sherlock will be rather irritable when he wakes up, only a warning." Mycroft informed John with a tight smile.
John nodded, "He normally is."
"But even more so." Mycroft added, he picked up his umbrella, frowning down at Sherlock and then left without a single word.
John watched Mycroft leave and then turned to Lestrade. The older man was holding his phone close to him with a smirk on his face. John looked at him confused he turned towards the door, then at Sherlock and back at Lestrade.
"Did you record that?" He asked quietly, unsure if Mycroft had officially left.
Lestrade looked up from his phone and nodded.
"Pictures or video?"
"Both." Lestrade mumbled.
The pair waited several minutes, the only noises was the sound of breathing and Sherlock's soft snores with the occasional moan.
"They won't find out." Lestrade said looking back down at his phone.
John nodded and looked at Sherlock. "Be best if we leave him there for now."
Lestrade agreed and turned back to his phone stifling his laughter as he watched the video.
John pinched the bridge of his nose. Mycroft was right; Sherlock was far more irritable than usual. Demanding John to do the simple little things, ordering John to be quiet when he's the one making all the noise, firing off into his deductions and not leaving a single thing out, no matter how horrible they were. He'd reduced three clients to tears, one of them were in hysterics! He ignored almost everything he was told, and responded to everything he didn't ignore with a snide remark or rude comment. It wasn't much different than his usuall self, except Sherlock was acting ruder and harsher.
John sighed before shouting, "You can't keep doing this, Sherlock!"
"Doing what?" Sherlock asked looking from his microscope to John.
"This!" John shouted. He sighed once more and lowered his voice slightly, "I know you're still in pain from your migraine, but there is no need to take it out on the rest of us!"
"I do not take it out on everyone else." Sherlock snarled turning back to his microscope.
"Yes, Sherlock, you do! There was no need to say some of that stuff!"
Sherlock huffed, "It's not my fault they care too much."
"Sherlock, stop. I know you're still in pain," John repeated annoyed, "but you need to know when to stop and you need to stop being so stubborn. Just take some aspirin and the pain will calm down." John nodded to the box of aspirin and glass of water he had put beside Sherlock almost an hour ago.
Sherlock only ignored John and continued looking down the microscope. John shook his head and walked away, he wouldn't get through to Sherlock today but maybe some other time. John smirked as he walked up the stairs; Lestrade still had the video and picture, that could be used as some kind of leverage to get Sherlock to behave.
AN: That caffeine thing, I did my research for it. It's believed to work best when the one suffering drinks coffee at the mid-point of their migraine. Yeah, I don't know, I hate coffee so I've never tested it myself.
Also, have you noticed in The Great Game that John says "Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed."? I think that's John saying he's lost his job, which then means I have to think carefully about the next set of chapters unless he does actually have one.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Have a nice day :)
~Steffii