Sherlock wakes suddenly to find himself sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair with John sleeping beside him. It takes him but a minute to remember how they ended up there and he is instantly worried as he gets up and approaches John's side.

John looks more peaceful than the previous night, his breathing is still laboured but the colouring of his face is less pale making Sherlock just a little bit less worried.

John wakes up two hours later with a faint smile on his face. 'Sherlock, you should have gone home' he urges but his smile belies the statement.

'No I shouldn't, how are you doing, you sound better today' Sherlock probes and John blinks up at him hesitantly.

'Breathing's easier… back… hurts more though' John looks up at Sherlock as he looms over his bed looking concerned. He tries not to be too worried at John's pained expression and gasping breaths but it is proving decidedly hard.

'John please tell me you're alright, you really look quite awful, your breathing doesn't sound right at all' Sherlock pushed and John smiled slightly in return.

'It hurts… not as bad as my back though…could do with… some painkillers for that.' John looks decidedly uncomfortable and Sherlock begins to feel distinctly fearful.

'I'll get a nurse, I'll get them to give you something.' Sherlock urges as he pushes a hand gently through John's hair, concerned that his help is coming way later than John would have needed.

He pushes the button for the nurses station, unwilling to leave his friend's side and wait an annoying two and a half minutes before a smiling middle aged woman appears through the door.

'Are you alright, you called?' she asks looking annoyingly happy.

'We wouldn't have called if he was alright would we' Sherlock snaps but John shakes his head slightly going for the gentler approach.

'Back hurts… can't breath… can you… give me something?' John asks and Sherlock knows that it is a testament to John's level of pain that he allows himself to ask for pain relief. In fact John spends the better part of that day doped up and Sherlock finds himself having to ask Mycroft to bring his computer in to ensure that he does not go entirely mad with boredom.

Sherlock actually sleeps that night but when he wakes the next morning he knows immediately that something is wrong. His body aches and his throat hurts unpleasantly as he tries to breath and there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is ill. That knowledge is swiftly followed by the fear that he may have given whatever is affecting him to John and he bursts out of his chair pushing the button for the nurses station as he looms over his friend.

Even with his own elevated temperature he can tell that John's is way too high. His breathing has gotten worse since the previous day, rattling unpleasantly in his throat and when Sherlock tries to rouse him he only moans slightly but does not open his eyes making Sherlock's heart beat at an alarming rate. 'John wake up, you have to wake up.' He orders and John's eyes blink hesitantly open. As he rises to consciousness the automatically takes a deeper breath which sends him into a coughing fit which has Sherlock turn truly panicked and the nurse who turns up a second later race out to get a doctor instantaneously.

'John, it's ok, just breath, please for me. Sherlock pleads brushing his hand gently through his friend's unwashed hair. John has curled in on himself on his bed his breath coming out in rattling gasps which makes his face turn slightly purple.

Sherlock has his phone out in a second dialling his brother's number. 'Mycroft, I need your help. Please I need you to take John to the place you took him before. He's sick, very sick… I've caught it too… Maybe I gave it to him… no incubation period is all wrong…' Sherlock knows that he's rambling, he knows there is both fear and desperation in his voice as he pleads with his brother but he really couldn't care less the rattling sound of John's breathing and the look of concern of the doctor who turns up and orders a ventilator to be brought in is enough to convince him that every bit of his worry is warranted.

By the time Mycroft himself arrives accompanied by two of his medical experts John is diagnosed with pneumonia and Sherlock himself has been pressed into a bed and told none to forcefully that he has a severe case of bronchitis and if he doesn't take care of himself it is at great risk of him going down the same path as his boyfriend. He still hasn't told John about that particular mixup and he has the feeling that judging by their possible transfer to Mycroft's facility he may not have to.

He still doesn't know if it is his fault or the fault of the staff at UCH that they have been infected by what by the symptoms exhibited by himself and John is most likely some strain of streptococci bacteria, and being able to name the disease doesn't really help at all either.

'Sherlock, you're clearly sick, how bad is it? And don't lie to me.' Mycroft argues holding his brother down as his two associates transfer John to the gurney that will take him out into the waiting, not quite ambulance which brought them there.

'I'm fine, it's just bronchitis, I barely even have a temperature.' Sherlock argues and Mycroft looks decidedly unconvinced.

'Sherlock according to the nurse I just spoke to you have a temperature of 38.2, that is not nothing. Not as bad as John I know but you're still clearly ill.' Mentioning John had been a very bad move. Sherlock had been too out of it to find out how high his friend's fever had risen and hearing that it had reached above his own which was by now making him tremble uncomfortably was enough to send him into another frenzy

'How bad is John's? They said he has pneumonia, how high is his temperature? Is it dangerous?' Sherlock asked ignoring the fact that the incessant questions made him look both worried and needy, he had the distinct feeling that Mycroft was already aware of how attached he was to his flatmate.

'Apparently so far he's peaked at 39.4 but it's still going up. We'll manage it as soon as we get to the clinic, don't worry, he'll be okay.' Mycroft soothed his younger brother who was himself really not looking all that well.

Sherlock stumbled along John's bed down to the waiting ambulance with Mycroft hovering constantly at his side.

When they were finally settled into a room at the clinic Mycroft had sent them to previously it was not long before Sherlock was asleep next to his friend who was resting more comfortably now that a ventilator had been attached to him supporting the even rise of his lungs.