The Phoenix - A Sherlock Fanfic

Temperature

This is a taste of PhoenixxMycroft for my dear friend Boz. 
Because I want her to watch Hannibal. She finds Mads Mikkelsen creepy and she needs to know that he's actually really sexy, especially when cooking and so.... anyway. Here's a chapter.  Boz, you know what you have to do. 

She came back to the apartment with a few bags of shopping supplies, and packed it all away.
She figured Mycroft wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d need more than what he had.
She wondered if he normally had such a small amount of food in the house.
Well, he did often complain of dieting.
She made her way upstairs, kicking off her shoes, and knocking on the door as she entered.
Mycroft didn’t appear to have moved at all. She gave him a half frown as he opened his eyes to look at her with a bit of disdain. 
“Back?” he asked sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes. In this scene Mycroft was acting over-annoying as to try to hide his weakness. Classic, really.
She wandered over to his bed and let her hand trail across his forehead as she tried to check his temperature.
Mycroft’s breath froze for a second, and then continued again slowly.
Phoenix bit her lip as she thought, having forgotten that she had next to no experience in healthcare.
Did he have a temperature? It felt like it, but maybe her hand was just cold from being outside. Or he could just be a bit hot. How hot was a temperature? What else did people do to check?  She leant over his form and kissed his forehead, her red hair falling over his face as she did so. She frowned and licked her lips as she thought. Okay. That’s probably a fever. So, what happened now?
Mycroft in the meantime tried to hide a cough. She pulled back away from him, to allow him to cover his mouth as he continued to cough. She frowned with concern.