Johnlock Stories

Day 17: Sick

Yes yes yes, before you say anything, I realize I didn't post yesterday, but please, 16 days IN A ROW? Its unbelievable really, I just didn't have a story yesterday and I was bingeing Supernatural with my Mom. AGAIN, I realize I said I was going to pace myself, but I'm like an addict, you know, I was clean for a little while but everyone always gives into temptation eventually. Which also isn't true, some people can quit, I just can't, its a drug to me. Anyway, I binged half a season, SMH. 

But here it is now, I hope I'll get back on track, but also maybe I won't because I have plans tomorrow, now I have to go make soup and watch some more SPN, *kisses* 

Enjoy, you gangsters.

*****

John sat in his chair reading the newspaper early in the morning with a mug of tea next to him, he sat in the quiet flat alone, for Sherlock was still asleep where John had left him, or so he thought.

Sherlock walked out of his room with his blue robe hanging loose from his shoulders, he had on a baggy grey T-shirt and his plaid pants. He dragged himself into his chair and sat down in the leather forcefully, throwing his head to the side he let out a painful groan. John watched him and noticed the circles under his eyes and his tousled bed head.

"You look horrible," John admitted and Sherlock sneered at him.

"Fuck off, I'm sick," Sherlock responded and John raised his brows, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Moody too," Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, scrunching his face at the effort, John gave a quiet laugh, "How long have you been sick?" Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Just last night, I had a sore throat but I woke up this morning with a killer headache as well," his voice was rugged and deep, John nodded.

"I see," Sherlock coughed into his hand, "do you want me to make you some soup?" John asked and Sherlock opened his eyes, he smiled softly and nodded his head.

"That'd be great, thanks," John smiled and stood up, walking over to the stove and grabbing out a pan.

"I'll let Lestrade know you won't be taking any cases," John said and Sherlock groaned again.

"I can still take cases, I'm not useless," Sherlock insisted, John only smiled and focused on the task at hand.

"I didn't say you were, but you look like you've just died, I can only imagine how you feel," Sherlock shook his head slowly.

"I feel well enough to work," John looked at him after putting the can of soup in the pan and setting it on the heat.

"Really?" he asked and began walking over to Sherlock, the other man watched him, "so you don't have a killer headache? Your jaw and neck don't hurt? Every time you move your head or look around the world spins? What about your body? Doesn't it feel so heavy?" Sherlock groaned again and John put a hand to his forehead, feeling his temperature, "I know the symptoms Sherlock, I know how it feels,"

Sherlock swatted his hand away, "Fine, tell him I have better things to do, don't let him know I'm sick," John took his hand back and furrowed his brows.

"How come?" Sherlock looked at him innocently.

"Because I'm not sick," John looked at him like he was an idiot, "What? As far as everyone else knows, Sherlock Holmes doesn't get sick, plus, I've only ever been bedridden four times," John raised his brows.

"You're not invincible Sherlock, but fine, I won't tell him," Sherlock nodded and John turned away, heading back to the stove to stir his soup.

Sherlock stumbled out of his chair and walked into the kitchen near John, giving him a hug from behind, he put his arms around Johns waist and rested his head on Johns shoulder.

John hummed and lifted his hand, putting it his Sherlocks hair and running his fingers through it. He turned around in Sherlocks arms and put his own on the taller mans shoulders, Sherlock smiled and began leaning down to kiss John.

"Mm," John pulls his head back, "what if you get me sick?" he gives a sly smile and Sherlock sighs.

"Then we can suffer together," John laughs and Sherlock smiles before leaning down, this time John lets him. 

*****

Do y'all ever get some heckin' weird nostalgia? I don't know the word for bad nostalgia, but thats what I mean. I have been getting hit with waves of last year, memories, feelings, smells. My Mom was dying in the hospital last year, around this time, and the snow is bringing it back, and the smell of Christmas and halloween, and the house being clean while the white outside is making it so bright. Its bringin' me back and I don't like it, I half expect to wake up to her being in the hospital, unconscious, and people bringing dinner every night, my family who are not immediate trying to find a way to get us Christmas, not to mention food. I can literally feel myself in the hospital, gosh, the smells of hand sanitizer, waiting to get home everyday so I can finally be alone and allow myself to cry. Sorry, this is getting long, y'all probably don't care about this, I just felt the need to rant, IDK. Anyway, I hope to see you tomorrow, but I'm not sure.