One more for tonight!

Caitlin had started her new job and even though it was stressful at times she absolutely loved it. She did not however love today. March 17th. It was Saint Patrick's Day, annual day of wearing green and drunkenness. It also happened to be her birthday. However, she also unfortunately happened to be sick. Ever since she was old enough to go out, Caitlin had begun to hate her birthday. Really though, she had just had too many bad experiences to care anymore. So, she was almost happy to be sick, glad to avoid the crowds and reckless drunks. Glancing at her clock, she rolled over and burrowed deeper into her covers. It was only five, but it felt as though it was so much later. Caitlin was also hungry, but the kitchen seemed miles away, especially since she was weak and shaky with fever. Pulling her covers to her body as tightly as possible in order to stifle the chill, she shut her eyes, determined to go back to sleep. As she began to doze off, a sharp knock suddenly sounded at the door startling her. Calling out weakly, Caitlin told whomever it was to come in.

"Caitlin?"

"In here John."

Hearing footsteps approach, Caitlin reached out for her glass in order to sip some water. As soon as John rounded the corner, his face filled with worry.

"Oh Caitlin, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Coming to sit next to her, John felt her forehead, exclaiming,

"You're burning up!"

"I think I might have the flu," Caitlin mumbled miserably.

"First of all, I'm going to go get a cool cloth for your head. Then I want you to keep drinking fluids and get as much sleep as you can. I'll be back later with some soup. You have to get something in you."

"Yes doctor," Caitlin joked half heartedly before letting out a cough.

Picking up a bottle of pain medicine, John put two pills in Caitlin's hand and the glass of water in the other.

"Take these for the headache I know you must have. They'll also help bring down your fever."

Getting back up, he told Caitlin he'd be right back before heading out to get a cold cloth. Once he came back, John found Caitlin almost fast asleep. Placing the cloth on her head, she groaned softly before drifting off completely.

"Sherlock, I have to run an errand, so can you please take this soup up to Caitlin?"

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock sighed.

"I suppose. Why can't she get it herself?"

"I already told you, you pillock! She's sick, so be nice!"

At Sherlock's look, John just sighed,

"Well, as nice as you can be."

Knocking on Caitlin's door, Sherlock entered the flat when he didn't get an answer. Placing the soup on the counter, he decided he poke his head in Caitlin's room to check on her. She seemed to be asleep, but as soon as he turned, he heard,

"Hey."

Coming back, Sherlock lingered in her doorway stepping closer when she fussed at him to just come inside.

"You look terrible."

"Thank you Captain Obvious."

Sherlock noticed Caitlin's retort hadn't even been half hearted. She obviously didn't feel up to sparring at the moment.

"I brought you some soup."

Looking at him with tired eyes, Caitlin asked Sherlock,

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you to fix me some?"

Twisting his lips into something akin to a grin, Sherlock left and came back with a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of cold water on a tray. Once Caitlin had pushed herself up to a semi-sitting position, Sherlock placed the tray in her lap. Quietly thanking him, Caitlin started to eat slowly. Looking up for a moment she noticed Sherlock rocking back and forth on his feet absentmindedly.

"Sherlock, you don't need to stay if you don't want to."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Picking up an empty glass on her bedside table, he turned to walk back out saying,

"John will be downstairs if you need anything."

Knowing that was his way of telling her to just call if she needed anything, Caitlin smiled and murmured "Thank you Sherlock", before he was out the door.

Thirty minutes later, John found Sherlock sitting in his chair plucking at his violin inattentively. Ignoring him as usual, John took a seat as well, taking a few minutes to read the paper before going up to check on Caitlin.

"It's her birthday."

"What?"

Sherlock looked across the way at John, repeating his previous statement.

"Caitlin. It's her birthday."

Wincing as Sherlock let out an immensely loud 'twang' from his violin, John just said,

"I hate to ask, but how do you know that?"

"Mrs. Hudson told me."

"No fancy deduction this time?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Drawing his bow quickly across the strings, the violin let out a quick screech before Sherlock set it down.

As Sherlock stood, John just turned the page of his paper before asking,

"Are you going to get her anything?"

Pausing for a moment, Sherlock looked over at John whose eyes had never left his paper. Frowning, he stated,

"What on earth are you on about?"

"Oh come on Sherlock," John all but laughed,

"We both know you have some kind of feelings for Caitlin. You wouldn't hang around her so much if you didn't. And you know for damn sure you wouldn't care about anyone else the way you do for her."

"You're daft. I'm going for take away. I'll be back soon."

Pulling his coat and scarf on, Sherlock turned his back on his smirking friend and left. After leaving the flat and walking down the street to hail a cab, his frown returned. He couldn't deny that he had feelings for Caitlin. He didn't quite know what they were yet, but he just knew they were getting stronger. Sherlock hated when John was right.

After Sherlock reappeared with dinner, John had ventured upstairs after eating to check up on Caitlin. Hearing the soft sounds of a television, John headed toward Caitlin's room. Knocking on the doorframe lightly, Caitlin looked up from her TV before smiling.

"How's the patient?"

As John walked further into the room, Caitlin replied,

"I'm feeling a little better."

"That's good to hear."

When John sat on the edge of her bed, Caitlin noticed him looking at a vase of flowers on her bedside table.

"They're pretty aren't they?"

"Who are they from?"

Caitlin's eyebrows furrowed.

"It's the strangest thing," she said, reaching out to touch the petals,

"I woke up and they were just sitting here. I thought they might be from Mrs. Hudson, but I just remembered she's visiting a friend today. I bet someone from work sent them."

John just smiled. He had a feeling he knew who had really sent them. Standing from the bed, he pulled the blankets back around her before saying,

"You get some rest, and remember, we're just a phone call away."

Thanking him, Caitlin watched as he started to walk toward the door. Turning back toward her, he smiled,

"By the way, happy birthday."

Laughing at her expression, John continued out the flat and down to his own.

Soon after John's departure, Caitlin flipped the TV off and lay back down, sleepy once more. Gazing at the vase of peonies next to her, she smiled lightly. Closing her eyes, she drifted off, dreams of a certain someone filling her head.

After John arrived back home, he took his seat once more and began a new entry in his blog, all the while ignoring Sherlock (or trying to) as he kept bouncing a ball off the wall, catching it, and bouncing it once more. 'THUD'. John sighed, click away as he tried to concentrate. 'THUD'. Grinding his teeth he prayed to God to help him not kill his flatmate. 'THUD'. Setting his laptop down, John stood and as soon as the ball bounced off the wall, he grabbed it before Sherlock could. Sherlock let out what sounded almost like a whine.

"Knock it off."

"But John I'm bored!"

Setting the ball down, John sat once more before placing his computer back in his lap.

"I don't care. It's annoying."

Letting out a huff, Sherlock just walked over the coffee table and threw himself on the sofa. It's was silent for a few minutes before John spoke.

"You got her those flowers, didn't you?"

He could instantly feel Sherlock's eyes on him.

"I haven't the foggiest as to what you are talking about."

Snorting, John just resumed his typing muttering,

"You like her. I know you do."

Later that evening, Sherlock lay in bed unable to sleep. Why had he bought those flowers for Caitlin? It had been her birthday, yes, but he was never one for gift giving. What was so different about her? Rolling over to his side, Sherlock sighed in frustration. It seemed John was starting to end up being right on many things. Many of which had been having to do with Sherlock's feelings and emotions. He hated that. He knew most people thought he didn't have any, and he didn't really care that they did. As long as he was left alone he was fine. But after Caitlin had become part of their lives, the ones he did possess seemed to center in on her. And by the few actions she had shown him, the kiss and the gifts, as well as generally just spending time with him whether John was present or not, showed that she herself felt strongly for him as well. Did he love her? No, he didn't even know what love was. But there was something there, something he couldn't give a name to. Something that was…what did John say? Oh yes. Like. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to. Sherlock liked Caitlin. He liked her in a way that was more than just friendship. Grumbling, Sherlock bunched his pillow up under his head and closed his eyes. Life would be so much easier if emotions didn't exist.