Two Men and a Baby (and a cold): Sherlock Completed 3/6

[AngelEyes]

28 minutes ago, matilda3948 said:

“So romantic comedies, margaritas, and pedicures?” Sherlock asked.

LOL

 

29 minutes ago, matilda3948 said:

“It’s purple glitter,” she said.

Too cute!

 

29 minutes ago, matilda3948 said:

"Yeah well, I really wish you hadn't made me tell you I love you over the phone," she said. Every time the subject was broached she seemed a little less hurt. He took it as a good sign that she was using it as part of an argument. They might just stand a chance at returning to a normal friendship after all.

I'm glad they are ok.

 

30 minutes ago, matilda3948 said:

“You behave tonight and try not to let too many of those ridiculous tropes from the movie sink into your impressionable, young, frontal cortex. You must always be careful of what you let into your frontal cortex….” his voice trailed off and he took out the last of the tissues he’d stashed in his pocket.

LOL

[frolicking periwinkle]

I don't even watch this show and I don't think I could love this more. In fact now I think I have to watch this show

[Shamaël]

I love Molly, thank you so much for introducing her into your story!!! There is the funny side (Molly and Rosie's girls night) and the angsty one (Sherlock's broken cheekbones) and it's perfectly gauged (is this word appropriate here? I'm not sure ).

12 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

I'm not sure if I should add one more section to this or not--a scene with just John and Sherlock?

To this I say YES of course!!!

[kushamisukii]

Um YES there has to be a next part omg. My heart sank like it broke reading that he had a fracture and he was in pain omg my heart can't handle this. And I can't believe how well written this is I love it so much !!!! Amazing <3 it seriously feels like this actually would happen in the next episode or something haha.

And I agree with Aliena above perfect balance of angst and humor. Really well done. Can't wait to read the next part and thanks for the update !!!

[matilda3948]

 You all are the best!! Thanks for the sweet comments.

So this is the final part and it got angsty. Frankly, I'm surprised I kept the angst in check for as long as I did  Very season 4-oriented.

**

“So. 7pm and we have the place to ourselves.”

Sherlock smirked and pushed himself off the floor and into his chair, the heavy sigh belying his attempt to look like he was feeling okay.

“Sherlock—”

“How did Molly say you’re progressing?”

“Just viral and I’m feeling better as the night goes on. Probably have it totally licked in a day or two,” John said.

“No indication of secondary infections?”

John frowned. This was new behavior—this awkward stalling for time by making idle chitchat. It didn’t suit Sherlock and it made John uneasy. How many times had they sat across from each other in the last few months struggling to address the elephant in the room? Too many as far as John was concerned.

Sherlock’s nose twitched and he pressed a loose fist to his nose, applying as much pressure as he could stand. His lips parted and he took a sudden sharp inhale, then another. After a long pause he couldn’t hold the sneeze back any longer and brought his hands up in front of his face.

Hehh Ehh… hehhISNSHHH! hhGNTshhoo!

“Bless you.”

Sherlock nodded and got a couple tissues from the box next to his chair.

“Excuse me,” he said, giving his nose a quick blow. And then it was back to awkward silence.

John took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Sherlock? Look at me,” he said. There was a weird pang in his chest when it took several seconds before Sherlock could stop his eyes from nervously flitting around and could really meet John’s gaze. John kept his voice low—his friend spooked too easily these days. “I am so sorry I hurt you.” Sherlock attempted to wave off the apology but John continued. “No. It’s not okay,” he said. “I had to subdue you but I didn’t have to keep going. That was not okay and I am deeply sorry.”

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle and Sherlock dropped his eyes to the floor. John saw him swallow the lump in his throat and noticed a tremor in his left hand. Sherlock must have noticed it too because he clenched his hands and then shook them out like he was trying to cast off water.

“Are you alright?” John finally asked. Another long silence descended on them and he wasn’t sure if Sherlock was going to answer him. When he did, the man’s voice was low and hoarse with either cold or emotion—it was hard for John to tell which.

“I…I’m—we’re fine, John. I never blamed you for hitting me but even if I had…you’ve forgiven me for such worse transgressions. This,” he gestured to his face, “is just transport. What I did to you…”

“Has been forgiven,” John said quietly.

“I don’t understand how.”

“I know,” John said. “And I don’t think I can convince you of it in one go, but I’m going to keep at it.”

Sherlock nodded and rubbed his forehead.

“I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight,” he said. John frowned. Trying to get Sherlock to go to bed willingly was about as easy as trying to get Rosie to go to bed willingly. He either really felt ill or he really wanted away from the conversation. Or both, John conceded. He stood up when Sherlock did.

“You didn’t eat anything for dinner. Don’t want anything first?” the doctor asked.

“Not hungry.”

“Some paracetamol before you turn in?”

“I’ve a bottle on my bedside table.”

They were at the hallway when John stopped and put a hand on Sherlock’s arm.

“Hey? If you need anything you’ll come get me, right?”

“Of course, John.”

“I’m serious, Sherlock. You’re still feverish,” John confirmed when he put a hand to his head. Sherlock’s eyes closed briefly when John made contact with his skin. “You sure I can’t bring you anything? Tea? Orange juice?”

“I assure you, I’m quite alright, John.”

“Okay then.” John let go of his arm. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

**

Sherlock awoke a few hours later feeling like someone had taken a hammer to the left side of his face. He grabbed his phone and saw that it was just after 2am so it had been about an hour since his medicine had worn off and he was feeling the effects. The congestion in his sinuses seemed to have doubled in the night and there was a painful throbbing beneath his left eye. Before it even had time to register, he sneezed three times, barely having a chance to turn his head.

hh’ngshhhoo! SNTschhhoo! huhNGSHHHoo!

Spots danced in front of his eyes and he groped around to find the box of tissues. Sherlock grimaced as he cleaned himself up and uttered something close to a whimper when he sneezed again.

Hehh-hehhSNSHHHoo! SNTSHHooo!

No matter how many times he blew his nose, his head immediately filled with congestion again. He knew his fever was up too. The world was so fuzzy. This was probably the sort of thing John would want to know about but Sherlock was still hesitant about waking him. After all, John was still recovering himself and probably needed sleep. But he did say to come get him if he needed anything…but what exactly did he need?

He continued to mull over the question as he got out of bed. He shivered violently and wrapped his dressing gown around himself. It seemed like it took him ages to make it up the flight of stairs and to John’s bedroom. The door had been left open but Sherlock hovered in the doorway, still unsure of what to do. John stirred (perhaps he wasn’t sleeping that deeply, or the soldier in him felt he was being watched) and opened his eyes.

“Sherlock?” He coughed into his fist and switched the bedside table lamp on casting a warm glow across the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” John asked.

“I um…”

John was on his feet and in front of his friend before Sherlock could formulate a sentence. John switched on the overhead light and winced. Sherlock’s face was visibly puffy on the left side, his eye watery and swollen nearly half shut.

“That got worse in a hurry, didn’t it?” John asked. He placed a hand on Sherlock’s forehead and found his fever was still holding strong too. John carefully ran a finger along the line of Sherlock’s cheek bone to gauge how much pressure the man could tolerate. Not much it seemed. “Sorry,” John said when Sherlock jerked his head away.

“It’s fine. Just slightly tender,” he said.

“Bit of understatement, yeah?”

huhh EHH’gsnSHHHH! hhGNTsshhhh!

“Bless you. Come on. I’ve got a couple ideas we can try to get the swelling to go down.”

Tea first. Always start with tea. Then Sherlock took a couple decongestants while John disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He put some of the eucalyptus bath salts that Mycroft had sent in a bowl and set it inside the shower before closing the door and letting steam fill the small space.

“When you finish your tea we’re going to go sit in the bathroom and breathe in that steam for a while. I think that combined with the medicine stand a chance of bringing the swelling down to a tolerable level.”

“Thank you, John.”

“Of course. I’m glad you came and got me.”

John tidied up for a moment while Sherlock finished his tea and then they both went into the makeshift sauna. Sherlock immediately began to cough and sputter as the warm, damp steam entered his airways. John patted him on the back.

“Easy. Easy. It’ll stop in moment.”

Sherlock sunk down onto the floor, folded his arms on the side of the bathtub and rested his head. John tossed a towel down on the floor and sat next to his friend. He also put a new box of tissues between them.

“Suspect we’re both going to need those after a few minutes in here,” John said.

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed in agreement. He could already feel the steam beginning to work. His eyes drifted shut and he thought he might be content to just fall asleep in the bathroom next to John. Of course his head wouldn’t allow him such a comfort though. His nose was beginning to run and he dropped a sluggish to get a few tissues. For the time being he was content to simply dab at the drippy appendage but he knew that wouldn’t last. John seemed to be experiencing similar effects. He’d already blown his nose three times and, even without opening his eyes, Sherlock knew he was going to sneeze soon.

HuhhMFSSSHHooo!

The sneeze echoed off the tile walls.

“Bless you,” Sherlock said.

“Thanks. Wow. That eucalyptus is strahh…huhh…huhh—huhhAHHMFSHH! Ugh. Strong. You doing okay?”

“My head hurts,” Sherlock said quietly.

hh’ahhMFSCHHHHoo!

“Bloody hell! Sorry.”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks,” John sniffled. After blowing his nose several times the irritation seemed to calm down for the doctor. Sherlock, however, still couldn’t even take a breath through his nose.

“Molly sent me a few pictures and some video after you went to bed. Want to see?”

Sherlock nodded and both men sat with their backs against the tub, shoulders touching so they could see the small screen on John’s mobile. He had to pause every minute or so to wipe the steam off the screen but they scrolled through the photos. First were a few pictures of Molly and Rosie with their matching purple glitter toe nails. Then one of Molly with some sort of green facial mask, Rosie balanced on her hip with a dab of the skin cleaner on her nose. Next was a picture of Rosie asleep in her crib and a short video of them babbling at each other and giggling.

“It’s unclear who is having more fun,” Sherlock said.

“We’re lucky, you know that? To have both of them in our lives—Rosie and Molly. We’re really lucky.”

“I do know,” Sherlock said quietly. He sniffed and felt something shift in his sinuses. He hissed at the sharp pain the came with the suddenly changing pressure. John handed him a couple tissues knowing what was coming next.

hehhISHHHew! TSSHHHHeew! hhNTSHHHeew!

Sherlock took a huge, shuddering breath and jerked forward with another, more desperately nasal fit of sneezes.

EHHNGSHHHH! hhGNTsshhhh! SNTSHHHooo!

The last sneeze immediately dissolved into a gurgling nose blow. John held fresh tissues at the ready and Sherlock made a quick swap.

hehNGSTshhoo! hehhGNSHH! ehh EhhNTISHHooo!

This pattern repeated itself two more times before Sherlock finally sagged against the bathub. He was winded and flushed and his face was throbbing. If he wasn’t already sitting, he was certain his legs would have given out.

“Bless you, Sherlock! Take a minute and calm down,” John said. “The steam is working but that must have been awful.”

He sighed and shifted a little closer to John. “My head hurts, John,” he said again.

“I know but the medicine will kick in soon and you’re not likely to have another fit that bad again. Clearing the congestion from your sinuses is really the best thing.”

“No. My head hurts all the time. It hasn’t stopped hurting since Sherrinford.” John kept quiet, sensing any interruption might make Sherlock clam up. He’d barely said a word about the incident with his sister—an occasional remark here or there but nothing that gave John any real insight into how his friend was handling it. “Sometimes I feel like my head is breaking apart. My mind palace was my refuge and now doesn’t make sense anymore. I try to sort it out but I don’t know what I can trust. Do you know what it’s like to not trust your own mind?”

“You’re asking the guy who was talking to his wife’s ghost?”

“That’s different.”

“Oh yeah? How?” John scoffed.

“That was for solace.”

Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t that.

“Your brain created something that brought you comfort when you were distressed. Your mind was helping you. Mine…mine is…”

“Yours was doing the same thing, Sherlock.” John paused when his friend began to cough, the steam finally working its way through his sinuses and chest. He waited until the spasms stopped but didn’t give Sherlock an opening to change the topic of conversation. “Your mind was masking trauma that was too intense for a child to deal with. I was able to let go of the visions because I was ready; you had yours ripped away without warning and as violently as possible. It’s not surprising that you’re disoriented.” Sherlock made a noncommittal noise. “You haven’t talked about it much,” John said. “And I’ve been afraid to push you on it, honestly. Might have been a mistake on my part,” he added.

“Pretty sure it’s just the fever that’s loosened my tongue tonight,” Sherlock drawled. John shifted so the he could face his friend. He cupped the back of Sherlock’s head and waited until he had his full attention.

“We’ll work on it, okay? You can’t expect to sort out a lifetime of warped memories in a few months.” Sherlock’s lower jaw trembled and both eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know which thoughts to trust,” he whispered.

“Oh, Sherlock,” John sighed. He pulled the detective towards him and guided his head to his shoulder. He carded his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and tried to gather his thoughts. He should have forced the issue sooner—John knew there was no way Sherlock had processed all that trauma on his own and now he had a sick, crying friend who was afraid of his own mind. “I’m sorry, Sherlock,” John said quietly. “I didn’t mean to neglect dealing with the fallout from Euros. I thought giving you space was what you needed, but I see now that was a mistake.” He felt a sob wrack Sherlock’s body followed by a cough that made John wince. “Shh. Shh. Listen, to me, Sherlock. I’m going to tell you a couple of things you can absolutely trust. Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“Good. All you need to know tonight is that you are not alone and you are loved. No, don’t interrupt.” John rubbed the back of Sherlock’s neck and kept talking. “Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Greg, Mycroft, your parents, me, Rosie—we all love you. Even if you doubt everything else, don’t doubt that.” Only when he felt Sherlock take a somewhat steady breath did John finally release him. “We can take our time sorting the rest out as long as you don’t forget that.” Sherlock ran a trembling hand over his face and nodded.

“I’ll need reminding.”

“That’s fine,” John said.

Sherlock grabbed a handful of tissues from the box and blew his nose harshly. When he was done he took an experimental sniff and was pleased to find that he could finally breathe through his nose. John took that as his cue and he stood and offered Sherlock a hand to help him off the floor. They made their way back to Sherlock’s room and John straightened the bedding and pulled the curtains shut. It would be dawn in a couple short hours and he wanted his friend to get some more sleep.

“We both need some water. I’ll be right back,” John said. When he came back to the bedroom he found Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed, tissues clasped in one hand, eyes blinking slowly.

heh Ehh…hehNTshhoo! ehhTSHHHooo!

“Bless you. Here, drink all of this.”

Satisfied that they were both properly hydrated, John put the empty cups on the dresser—he’d take them to the kitchen in the morning. When John looked over his shoulder he could still see apprehension on Sherlock’s face.

“Okay if crash here with you?” John asked, taking a not-so-wild guess at what Sherlock wanted. Truth be told, John wanted to stay close and Sherlock’s immediate nod confirmed that Sherlock needed it too. They got into either side of the bed and John switched out the light. “Gonna be able to sleep now?” he asked.

“I think so.”

John still wasn’t happy with either Sherlock’s tone or the stiff, stressed energy that still seemed to surround him.

“Hey, c’mere,” John said as he shifted in the bed. Sherlock edged a few inches closer and John exercised massive self-restrain in not rolling his eyes or heavy sighing. Instead, he looped an arm around his friend and pulled him closer, practically manhandling Sherlock. He got the genius’ head settled on his chest and then draped Sherlock’s arm over his middle. “Did you forget how to do this bit?” John asked, tugging the blankets up over them.

“Wasn’t sure if…if it was okay anymore.”

John hugged him and sighed. They did have some work to do. He began to rub Sherlock’s back and immediately felt the tension leaving his friend’s body.

“It’s always going to be okay, Sherlock.”

Those words did the trick. Any fight left in Sherlock’s body evaporated, his head becoming dead weight on John’s chest and his breath becoming slow and deep. John fought to stay awake for a few minutes to simply relish the peaceful quiet following their difficult night. Then he too surrendered to sleep.

[Hedgehog]

Awwww, thank you for ending this story with such a nice feverish-Sherlock part. That was enjoyable to read. 

[kushamisukii]

Well this was probably my favorite fic. This was perf. Thank you for writing this. It makes me feel better about season four haha.

[frolicking periwinkle]

Yep. Thats it. Now i have to watch this show. Need to.  

 

Btw please write more

[Shamaël]

That was the best part of the fic! I love angst (especially between John and Sherlock) and that was exactly what I needed after season 4: some angst AND some comfort (and some sneezes as well, of course), AND some talk about Eurus. And more sneezes. 

Thank you for this fic, it was priceless!

[AngelEyes]

That was beautiful!

[frolicking periwinkle]

Caught up on the show. I prefer your stories to theirs. Either start writing for them or write more for us please.

[snowshie]

Aw, this is lovely. Much better than the ending to S4. Thank you for sharing!

[Juto]

I realised i never finished this fic so naturally I had come back and soak up all the wonderful caretaking and fever-fluff. 

An altogether wonderful fic with these darlings.

[valemari2012]

I simply love you now ❤

[ellwren]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️