Sherlock get's the flu, John deserves a medal
Title: Sherlock gets the flu, John deserves a medal
Author: crazycatt71
Rating: G
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock, John
Word Count: 533
Summary: Sherlock gets the flu, John takes care of him and even thought he's tempted, doesn't kill him.
A/N: written for the sherlockmas friday drabble day on LJ. The prompt used is summerflu
“John!” a sharp voice wailed through the flat. “John, I need you.”
John winced. He had gotten very tired of hearing that voice calling for him. Sherlock had a mild case of the flu, though to hear him tell it, he was on death’s door step, and John had been taking care of him. A herculean task because Sherlock Holmes was the worse patient in the world. On a normal day Sherlock could be whiney, demanding, and rude. When he was sick it was a thousand times worse. First he was too hot, then too cold, then he was itchy, his throat hurt, he didn’t want to take his medicine because it tasted icky, the list went on and on. John was pretty sure he deserved a medal for not pitching him out the window in front of an oncoming bus.
“John!” Sherlock wailed again.
John sighed and went into Sherlock’s room.
“Yes?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
“I want a drink of water.” Sherlock told him.
John looked at the full glass of water on the night stand.
“What’s wrong with that one?” he asked.
“It’s not cold enough.” whined the world’s largest toddler.
John counted to a hundred in his head, then reached for the glass. He took it into the kitchen, filled it with water and ice and took it back to Sherlock. Sherlock took a sip and grimaced.
“Now it’s too cold.” he pouted.
John’s last nanogram of patients evaporated.
That’s it, I’ve had enough,” he growled, “ if you are well enough to be that picky about things, you are well enough to take care of yourself. Take you medicine or don’t, get better or don’t, I don’t care.”
He stormed out of the room, guilty trying to poke at him but he ignored it. He fixed some tea and settled on the sofa to watch some telly. A noise in the kitchen made him look up to see Sherlock leaning against the kitchen door, pale faced and trembling with effort it took to keep himself up right.
“I believe my medicine is in here.” he said.
John anger had lasted about as long as it took the kettle to boil, he knew it was hard for Sherlock to feel weak or let someone take care of him. He stood up and went over to Sherlock.
“Let’s get you back to bed before you fall over and I have to pick your ass up.” he said.
He got Sherlock settled, got him his medicine, and turned to go.
“John.” Sherlock called.
John turned back around. Sherlock had sat up.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I know I’ve been a bit difficult.” Sherlock said.
“Just a bit.” John agreed. “No worries, I know it’s not easy being sick.”
“It is frustrating.” Sherlock said, “Still, I should not have taken it out on you.”
He looked down at his hands, then back up at John.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” he said softly.
“You’re welcome.” John replied. “Now get some rest, I’ll be here if you need me.”
He left the room, smiling to himself. There just might be hope for the world’s worse patient yet.
Author: crazycatt71
Rating: G
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock, John
Word Count: 533
Summary: Sherlock gets the flu, John takes care of him and even thought he's tempted, doesn't kill him.
A/N: written for the sherlockmas friday drabble day on LJ. The prompt used is summerflu
“John!” a sharp voice wailed through the flat. “John, I need you.”
John winced. He had gotten very tired of hearing that voice calling for him. Sherlock had a mild case of the flu, though to hear him tell it, he was on death’s door step, and John had been taking care of him. A herculean task because Sherlock Holmes was the worse patient in the world. On a normal day Sherlock could be whiney, demanding, and rude. When he was sick it was a thousand times worse. First he was too hot, then too cold, then he was itchy, his throat hurt, he didn’t want to take his medicine because it tasted icky, the list went on and on. John was pretty sure he deserved a medal for not pitching him out the window in front of an oncoming bus.
“John!” Sherlock wailed again.
John sighed and went into Sherlock’s room.
“Yes?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
“I want a drink of water.” Sherlock told him.
John looked at the full glass of water on the night stand.
“What’s wrong with that one?” he asked.
“It’s not cold enough.” whined the world’s largest toddler.
John counted to a hundred in his head, then reached for the glass. He took it into the kitchen, filled it with water and ice and took it back to Sherlock. Sherlock took a sip and grimaced.
“Now it’s too cold.” he pouted.
John’s last nanogram of patients evaporated.
That’s it, I’ve had enough,” he growled, “ if you are well enough to be that picky about things, you are well enough to take care of yourself. Take you medicine or don’t, get better or don’t, I don’t care.”
He stormed out of the room, guilty trying to poke at him but he ignored it. He fixed some tea and settled on the sofa to watch some telly. A noise in the kitchen made him look up to see Sherlock leaning against the kitchen door, pale faced and trembling with effort it took to keep himself up right.
“I believe my medicine is in here.” he said.
John anger had lasted about as long as it took the kettle to boil, he knew it was hard for Sherlock to feel weak or let someone take care of him. He stood up and went over to Sherlock.
“Let’s get you back to bed before you fall over and I have to pick your ass up.” he said.
He got Sherlock settled, got him his medicine, and turned to go.
“John.” Sherlock called.
John turned back around. Sherlock had sat up.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I know I’ve been a bit difficult.” Sherlock said.
“Just a bit.” John agreed. “No worries, I know it’s not easy being sick.”
“It is frustrating.” Sherlock said, “Still, I should not have taken it out on you.”
He looked down at his hands, then back up at John.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” he said softly.
“You’re welcome.” John replied. “Now get some rest, I’ll be here if you need me.”
He left the room, smiling to himself. There just might be hope for the world’s worse patient yet.