I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 10- Temporary...

We lay in bed inevitably awake. Both of us. I'm curled up in Sherlock's arms. It's obvious that we're starting to keep a pattern in this kind of stuff. I'm always the weaker one. The one more afraid. Today's events have left me exhausted, yet I'm finding it extremely hard to sleep. I think Sherlock's dealing with the same thing. I sigh into his chest. His pajama shirt is silky against my forehead and he smells wonderful. The buttons are open, but it wouldn't be appropriate to take advantage of that. My head swirls drunkenly. They say sleep deprivation has the same effect as drunkenness. That must be why I feel so odd.

Sherlock buries his face in my hair. "John, you're not scared are you?"

I squirm a little. "Sherlock, we've probably just been threatened. So yes, I'm scared as hell." I respond faintly. Maybe not at the moment, but in general, I'm terrified. What's going to happen to us? I've never really had to think about us per se, just myself when it comes right down to it. Sherlock's always had his own back- he didn't know I was there for the trust fall if he needed it.

He hugs me tighter, encompassing me with the warmth from his arms. "We're not supposed to do anything. He's waiting for us to react like last time. No, this time we've got to leave the cases alone. If we don't meddle for over 24 hours he'll clean it up." He starts to do that thing where he's talking to both me and himself. "But if he painted that thing on the shed he knew we'd find it. "I know how you think, I know how you think I think."" He quotes. "Why is he letting us do this? UOI. It's backwards. He owed me a fall. Now I owe him one..." He sits up quickly with the realization, causing my head to fall against the pillow. "Sorry, love. He wants us to entertain him. He was entertaining me before, although he said it was the other way around- nothing really does it for him anymore... That's what all the weird cases were. If that's the case, though, one of us is going to die. I don't know which." We'd already figured this out. It's just hitting him, though. He sinks back onto the pillow. "Why?" He says, the word almost inaudible.

I lay on top of him, not in a weird way, just to where my head rests on his chest. The shirt feels hot against my skin and sweat starts to bead on my neck. Trust me, I fully intended to play along and answer his question, but the annoying pulsing in my head is telling me otherwise. "Sherlock, I think I'm running a fever..." I push myself up the smallest bit off his chest. He tenderly places one of his hands over my forehead, his creasing with worry.

"John, you're very warm." He pushes himself up onto one of his elbows and starts pulling on my top eyelids. It feels more abnormal than it really should.

I blink when he's done, my vision blurring, and not from what he was doing. "Sherlock, I'm reeeeeeally dizzy." I say, having a difficult time focusing on his face. My vision gradually comes back into focus.

Sherlock is up on both of his elbows now, a look of supreme concern crossing his face. "John, tell me everything you've eaten in the past 24 hours." He says, voice hurried. He slides himself out from under me and drags me off the bed from under my armpits.

"Some coffee this morning, um..." I say, over-aware of the way my lips are shaping the 'm'. I make a pop sound with my mouth. "Sherlock?" I say as I practically fall against him as I get off the bed. "I don't feel right." My face frowns. It almost feels like I'm not controlling it.

He purses his lips. "Yes, I can tell John." He keeps one arm around my waist, guiding me to the bathroom just outside his room.

He puts his finger on the light switch. "Okay John, I'm going to tell you to look in the mirror. Can you do that?"

"Am I a child now?" I ask, leaning against the counter.

I can nearly hear him roll his eyes. "Just do it John. Okay, when I turn the light on, stay looking at the mirror, no matter what you see. Alright?"