Under The Weather

Chapter 2

Sherlock

What is that weight on my shoulder?

Thoughts slowly enter my brain again as I wake up. As my senses come back, I'm hit with the sound of breathing beside me.

I look at my shoulder, and find John sleeping peacefully.

I thought he was telling Gabrielle- wait was that his name- that I wasn't taking cases right now.

"John," I mutter.

With a small groan he sits up. After a second he realizes where he was sleeping.

"Oh, God. Sherlock, I'm sorry, I meant to phone Greg an-"

"Its fine," I reassure, "Wait, who?"

Chuckling, he says, "The DI from Scottland Yard."

"That's not his name," I say, trying to remember his actual name.

"Sure," he says drawing out the 'e'.

I stare at John, to find him staring right back at me. I take in his grayish blonde hair. His constantly shifting irises. The slight stubble along his jawline. The subtle lick of his lips. Taking in everything I can about my blogger.

John suddenly breaks eye contact and stands up.

"I'm going to call Lestrade," He mutters, "Let me know if you need anything."

After he leaves, the room feels empty. All the comfort taken out with him. And without the distraction, my body rebels again.

My body temperature seemingly drops. The front of my head searing. And, a new one, feeling like my organs are crawling up my throat.

I stand up, wobbling towards the bathroom. My hand grasps the doorframe, propelling me infront of the toilet.

I start heaving, probably not making very delightful noises.

After a moment, theres a hand on the back of my neck, holding a wet cloth.

"Its ok. Just let it all out. I'm right here," John says in a strained voice.

After a minute, my stomach all empty, I look up at my blogger.

"Thank you," I mutter.

"Its ok, Sherlock, I'm here for you."

I sit back against the wall, still feeling a bit nauseous.

"I'm going to see if we have anything that can help." John says, walking out, presumably to the closet.

The cold of the tiles seeps into my already cold skin with John out of the room. I was freezing, yet I was sweating, so my fever probably hadn't left me yet.

After a few moments, John calls out, "We're out of almost everything!"

He comes back in the bathroom, filling it back up with his calming presence.

"You should rest again. I'll get Mrs. Hudson to watch you while I go to the chemists."

"I'm not a dog," I mumble.

"I can call Mycroft and have him watch you if you would prefer." John smirks.

I send a nice little glare his way.

"Come on, let's go to your room," John says, pulling me up from the floor and bringing me to my room.

Not long after John goes down stairs, Mrs. Hudson knocks softly on the door.

"Sherlock?" She says, letting herself in, "I brought you some tea if you'd like it."

I answer with a grunt, having already relaxed enough that I wasn't very concious of anything.

Mrs. Hudson looks gently at me, placing the tea on the side table.

"Oh, Sherlock. You should've told us. We can help. And if you won't let me, John can help."

"For the last time, we are not a couple. He is not gay, as he's made vividly clear, and I'm married to my work," I inform.

With a knowing smile, she says,"I don't believe a word you just said."

"He's not gay!" I exclaim, defending my flatmates reputation.

"You're right," she says staring me directly in my eyes, "He's Bi."

"Go away." I wave towards the door.

"Fine, fine. If you need me just call for me," She says walking towards the door," I'm still not your housekeeper!"

And with a mumbled reply even I don't understand, I fall asleep.

John

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm back!"

I walk into the entry hall and up the stairs to the flat. Sherlock wasn't lying in a curled up ball or playing the violin or doing another experiment. So he was, hopefully, resting.

I set down the bag of medicine, fishing out the one I wanted.

I fill a glass if water and open Sherlocks door.

He was sleeping, good. He looks more peaceful when he sleeps. Not like he's about to launch into a explanation of how you can tell apart different poisons by taste.

I go over to the side table, Mrs. Hudson had left a cup of tea on it, and set down the glass. I took out the recommended amount of pills and set them beside the glass for when he wakes up. Grabbing the now cold tea, I exit the room.

Help, a commercial just played on the TV about substance abuse. Its reading my search history. No one wants to read that. But google is mean. I can look up the same thing, and I get different answers every time, so there most likely will be tons of inaccuracies. But I'm trying! Edit: I dont know what I'm doing.