Hello all! Finally updated this story. It's going a bit slower because I'm to the point where I've run out of pre-written chapters and have caught up with myself. I'll try to write more soon but my birthday is on Saturday (turning 25! ahh!) and I have a busy weekend so we will see if I find time. Thanks, as always, for the reviews/favs/follows! You guys really make my day! Here's chapter 21!

Chapter 21

Addie was coherent and stable enough to get herself up the steps to the flat without help. She was guided gently into her room by John's strong grip on her shoulder and she collapsed on her bed with a pathetic moan and whimper.

John left the room and Addie buried herself in her blankets and covered her head completely with the pillows. When he came back, all he saw was human shaped mass of blankets and he smiled to himself before setting the pills and a glass of water on her bedside table.

"Paracetamol and water on the table when you're ready," John said.

Addie grunted and extracted her hand from her cocoon to wave him off.

John closed the door behind him and chuckled at how alike the siblings were when annoyed or sick. He walked into the living room to find Sherlock sitting in his armchair, trying and failing to not look concerned or at least interested in how his sister was feeling. He glanced at John briefly before going back to typing on his laptop.

"She's doing good for now, Sherlock. I gave her some medicine and discreetly checked her temperature as I helped her to her room. It hasn't gone up, which is good. We just have to wait and see if it goes down with the paracetamol and some sleep."

Sherlock pretended not to have heard him. "Hmm? Oh, yes, great," he said giving his fake smile.

John rolled his eyes and went to go make some tea. He was in there for all of five minutes before Sherlock walked in seemingly looking for some biscuits. He paused to look at John and hesitated before speaking.

"Was her temperature pretty high? I mean, I only ask because I remember her being prone to high fevers and bad headaches and I don't want to have to deal with all of that. If it's going to get worse, we should just dump her off on Mycroft. Let him handle it," he said off-handedly.

"You wouldn't do that and you know it," John said, smiling. "And your concern is completely normal, Sherlock. No one likes to see their siblings sick."

"I am merely concerned about the quality of our rest. I don't want to be woken up constantly to tend to her whining."

"Sure," muttered John.

"So…was it high?" Sherlock asked.

"No, not alarmingly so. She needs to take the paracetamol though. It won't go down unless she does."

"She didn't take it?" Sherlock asked.

"She probably did by now. I left it on her table," John said.

Sherlock groaned. "She hasn't taken it."

"What, are you now psychic or something?"

"No. She hasn't taken it because you didn't sit there until she had to."

"So I had to tell her to take it or else she wouldn't?"

"Yes. She's probably thinking she doesn't need it and it can wait. You have to go in and make her take it or else she won't. She's extremely stubborn like that," Sherlock said, annoyed.

"Gee, I wonder where she gets that from," John snarked.

Sherlock pointedly ignored his comment. "You should go make sure she takes it. The sooner she does, the sooner we'll be in peace."

"No," John said simply as he sat down with his tea.

Sherlock looked startled. "What?"

"I said, 'no'," John repeated. "I'm not your servant, Sherlock. Why don't you go do it?"

"Because I don't want to," Sherlock replied, as if that settled it.

"Maybe I should just hire a babysitter instead," John grumbled.

"I've done my time helping her when she was sick. It's someone else's turn now."

"Which is exactly why you should do it. You have more experience," John reasoned. "If I do it and I fail, then you'll have to go do it anyways. Might as well do it yourself and get it right the first time."

Sherlock looked annoyed but John could tell he'd won. Sherlock was much too logical to ignore his reasoning.

"Fine!" He said with a huff as walked down the hall to Addie's room.

He didn't bother knocking because he knew she wouldn't respond. She was most likely curled up as small as possible in the middle of the bed covered in her duvet. This was confirmed when he opened the door as saw a lump of blankets moving up and down as it breathed. The door was slammed shut and a groan escaped from the bed.

Sherlock approached the bed and roughly shook the mound of covers, "Addie! You need to take your paracetamol. Stop being stubborn and do it."

"No! Go 'way! 'M sick!" the blankets whined.

Sherlock sighed and gripped the blankets then ripped them off her. She kicked at him and curled up even tighter. She was shivering but Sherlock could see that her forehead was shiny with sweat.

"Addie, please. You're fever isn't going to go away unless you take the medicine." He sat down next to her and fixed her pillows.

Addie's hand shot out to grasp Sherlock's wrist and she squeezed it tightly. He looked at her curiously.

"My head hurts, 'Lockie. And I'm f-f-freezing!"

"That's why you have to take the paracetamol, little sister. It will take everything away and you'll be able to sleep," Addie opened her mouth, "Peacefully," Sherlock finished before she could say anything else.

"Dunno where it is," Addie said hazily.

"On the bedside table. Where John said he left it," Sherlock said, slightly amused.

"He did?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm," she sleepily replied.

Sherlock grabbed the pills and the water and handed it to her. She took it clumsily and nearly spilled it all down herself until Sherlock steadied her hand. As it was she missed her mouth and choked on it, coughing harshly.

Sherlock gave her a second to catch her breath and set the glass back on the table.

"Alright?" he asked.

Addie nodded and wiped her mouth. Almost immediately she got sleepy and flopped back on the bed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them tightly around her. Sherlock situated the pillow under her head then got up quietly to turn off the light.

He looked back at his little sister, sleeping with her mouth open and her limbs askew on the bed and smiled. He found himself hoping this was a passing flu and all would be better soon. However, he would soon come to realize how wrong he was.