The Christmas Gift of Sherrinford [Secret Santa for matilda3948] (BBC Sherlock- Sherlock 1/2)

[cally]

A belated Merry Christmas to you @matilda3948!  I do apologise for not getting this up sooner.  Work, bronchitis and traveling for Christmas all have conspired against me!

I do hope it is enjoyed.  

 

The Christmas Gift of Sherrinford

 

Ever since the events that occurred at Sherrinford, Sherlock had taken to visiting Eurus on a regular basis.  The initial visits were hesitant and fleeting, but over time they became more frequent and regular, with both siblings having grown accustomed to the weekly visits.

While Mycroft had been in attendance at first, as time progressed he found he had to leave his younger siblings to it and trust in the increased physical and electronic security that had been established at Sherrinford on his command.  He was therefore a mixture of surprised and alarmed when he learned that his brother had cancelled his pre-Christmas visit with Eurus.  The only information on record, was that Sherlock’s transport to the island had been cancelled the previous day and that he had given no explanation.

Mycroft’s first thought was case, but Greg hadn’t mentioned anything about Sherlock’s involvement recently.  It seemed the criminal classes had taken the Christmas season off, barring the normal domestics and shoplifters which wouldn’t register on Sherlock’s self-determined scale.

If it was not case related then it must be related to John Watson, Mycroft deduced.  However, that line of inquiry was also found to be a dead end; the doctor had left London on the 22^nd with young Rosamund to visit his parents for the upcoming Christmas holiday.

That left only one option.  An option he thought that Sherlock had abandoned since the tumultuous events surrounding Mary, the baby, and the resurrection of Eurus.

A quick check of the CCTV showed that Sherlock had not left 221B since seeing John and Rosie off, nor had anyone entered the building, short of Mrs. Hudson’s ordinary comings and goings.

Therefore, something was amiss.

 

 

--------------------------

A few miles away, something certainly was amiss.  Sherlock felt absolutely miserable.  He had a rotten cold, most likely exacerbated by the hours he had spent in the cavernous and cold facility where his sister was incarcerated.  Sniffling wetly, he gave his violin an icy glare, as if the inanimate object was the cause of his current misery.

Shivering, he pulled his dressing gown and the blanket over it around his trembling frame.  He sniffed back dampness again and then rubbed the appendage against the blanket.  It did little to alleviate his current predicament, in fact if anything, it made it worse.  Blinking rapidly, his breath hitched before he gave into the violent outbursts.

Hngxtshhooo! HngxtISSSshhooo! Hngxtshhi!  HngISSHOOO!   

Sherlock pulled a face in disgust and rubbed his congested nose up against the blanket again.  What he really needed was some tissues and a cup of tea, but he lacked the energy to get up to do anything about either one. Coughing, he sank back against the couch in defeat.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there feeling miserable and sorry for himself.  A noise startled him out of his reverie, and he shook his head, feeling fuzzy and sluggish.  He listened more carefully for a moment and then sighed heavily.  Not only did he feel wretched due to this stupid head cold, but now he was about to be forced to endure the presence of his insufferable older brother.  Happy bloody Christmas to him.

[matilda3948]

You were my Secret Santa?!!! Freaking fantastic! 

I happened to be online when you posted. OMG it's so great! It ticks all my boxes. I started to quote and then realized I'd basically quoted the whole thing and was like, "Okay, cool it, Matilda." Nothing I love more than a sick, miserable Sherlock. Thank you thank you thank you!!!

 

[AngelEyes]

Yay! Sherlock! I love how Mycroft ticks through all the reasonable explanations before heading over there. 

5 hours ago, cally said:

Not only did he feel wretched due to this stupid head cold, but now he was about to be forced to endure the presence of his insufferable older brother.  Happy bloody Christmas to him.

Poor Sherlock!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh goody! Brotherly love is coming our way.  I’m looking forward to the next part.  

[lsbn]

On 12/30/2017 at 11:58 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Oh goody! Brotherly love is coming our way.  I’m looking forward to the next part.  

That's one of my favorites (brotherly love) too! XD Very excited for the next part, if it's coming  

[cally]

On 29/12/2017 at 9:30 PM, matilda3948 said:

You were my Secret Santa?!!! Freaking fantastic! 

I happened to be online when you posted. OMG it's so great! It ticks all my boxes. I started to quote and then realized I'd basically quoted the whole thing and was like, "Okay, cool it, Matilda." Nothing I love more than a sick, miserable Sherlock. Thank you thank you thank you!!!

 

You're very welcome.   I hope the rest of it is enjoyed as well.

On 30/12/2017 at 2:27 AM, AngelEyes said:

Yay! Sherlock! I love how Mycroft ticks through all the reasonable explanations before heading over there. 

Almost all reasonable explanations.

On 31/12/2017 at 4:58 AM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

Oh goody! Brotherly love is coming our way.  I’m looking forward to the next part.  

Yes, there's some love.  And some snark.  But mostly love.

 

On 01/01/2018 at 10:21 PM, lsbn said:

That's one of my favorites (brotherly love) too! XD Very excited for the next part, if it's coming

Yes, and here it is!  

 

And here we finally have the second part.  Again, my apologies for taking absolutely forever on this!  And, I hope you don't mind but I stole one of your head canons for this.  It fit so well, I couldn't help myself.  I do hope it is enjoyed.

 

Part 2.

As he really was not feeling well at this point, Sherlock flopped down on the couch and pulled the blanket over him, covering him from head to toe.  Maybe Mycroft would come in, see that the flat was quiet and empty, and leave him to his misery.

Mycroft let himself in to the building and made his way up the stairs.  So far, there was no sign that Sherlock was even home; the place was as quiet as a tomb.  And as cold as one, Mycroft also thought to himself.  He let himself into the flat, quietly and cautiously, but again there was no evidence of foul play or illicit drugs.

He noticed that Sherlock’s Belstaff was hanging up, so it was unlikely he had left the flat of his own volition, not without the coat, and not at this time of the year.  Yet, the security cameras had not seen anyone coming and going, therefore Sherlock must be. . ..

Mycroft shook his head in disbelief.  “Aren’t you too old to be playing hide and seek, brother mine?

There was a huff from beneath the blanket followed by a strangled breath and several violent sneezes.

HngISSHOOO!  Hngxtshooo!   HDSCHHhhhh! ISHooooo!

“Bless you,” Mycroft exclaimed in surprise.  Illness wasn’t something he had factored in, which was a glaringly obvious oversight, he thought to himself.

Sherlock sat up, shoving the blanket off.  He stared at his brother for a moment, blinked rapidly, and then gave into another bought of unrestrained sneezing.

Ah-heh-hhh-heh-hngISHxt!  Hngxt!  Hng’ISSH!  HngISSHOOO!   

“Bless you again,” Mycroft said, removing his handkerchief from his pocket.  He handed the cloth to his brother, who snatched it up quickly.

HDSCHHhhhh! HNGXTshoooo! 

“And again.  Dear me, Sherlock,” Mycroft stated, coming around so that he could sit down beside his ill younger sibling.  “You sound miserable,” he added unnecessarily.

Sherlock glared at him, deducing, while he tended to his nose.  “Thags for that; you can piss off now,” he said through thick congestion.

Mycroft actually looked shocked and affronted at the remark.  “Sherlock, I did not mean,” he began, but Sherlock cut him off.

“You thought I was ‘back on the sauce,’” Sherlock grumbled, making air quotes in hopes of driving Mycroft away so he could wallow in his unwell, pathetic misery.  However, he really didn’t want Mycroft to leave if he was honest.  He might be useful and make some tea.  He coughed weakly and then sniffed damply as if to accentuate his agony.

Mycroft sighed.  “I was worried when you cancelled your visit with Eurus without any explanation.  And when I discovered you had not left the flat in several days I became concerned.”

Sherlock huffed, but he didn’t reply.  He knew that Mycroft was concerned.  He could see the fine lines around his brother’s eyes were deeper, probably from staring at the CCTV footage.  He sank back against the couch with a wet sniffle, which he instantly regretted.  The sneezes tumbled out over and over, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

Hngxt! Hngxtshhoo! HngxtISSSshhooo! Hngxtshhi!  Hehhhngxtshhooo! AHHngxtshhoo!

“God bless you,” Mycroft exclaimed.  He gave his brother a studious look.  “When was the last time you ate?”

Sherlock pointedly ignored him and blew his nose loudly instead.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.  Sherlock was always such a terrible drama queen when he was unwell.  “You know, I probably do not want to know the answer to that question,” he remarked, but there was little irritation present in his voice.

The elder Holmes brother got to his feet and headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s start with hydration,” he said, filling the kettle.

Sherlock allowed himself a small, smug smile as he listened to Mycroft move around the kitchen.  He heard the cupboards being opened and closed and the sound of china being placed on the counter.  He listened as the kettle came to a boil and soon after came the sound of pouring water meeting ceramic.  A few moments later, Mycroft came back in with a steaming mug of tea and placed it down on the coffee table in front of him.

Sherlock leant forward and put his hands around the mug, relishing the warmth.  Unfortunately for him, the action and the steam conspired against his sinuses, and he pulled back quickly, sneezing heavily into the borrowed cloth.

Hng’ISSH!  HngISSHOOO! HDSCHHhhhh! ISHooooo!

Sherlock was absolutely drained after sneezing and closed his eyes for a moment.  In doing so, he missed the fleeting look of concern that crossed Mycroft’s face.

“Bless you,” Mycroft said quietly.  “I’ll find you some tissues.”

Sherlock heard Mycroft’s footsteps recede and return.  His sinuses were throbbing and he carefully reached forward, plucked a handful and blew his nose

He crumpled the damp tissues, tossed them on the table and picked up his tea.  He took a sip and it immediately eased the soreness in his throat.  He drank some more and allowed the warmth of the beverage to ease some of the tension he had been feeling. He had not been sleeping well.  Sherlock closed his eyes again

A few minutes later Mycroft returned and before Sherlock opened his eyes he knew what Mycroft had been doing as he could just barely smell melted cheese. He sniffed as appreciatively as was possible with a stuffed up nose.

“Your refrigerator was remarkably well stocked,” Mycroft commented.  He had made himself a cup of tea and watched with a mixture of amusement and horror as Sherlock attacked the grilled cheese sandwich with gusto.

Sherlock snorted.  “What would you know about it?  Your fridge is an abysmal ahhh-abomination.” He managed to finish his sentence before sneezing harshly.

HDSCHHhhhh! HNGXTshoooo! 

Mycroft rolled his eyes.  “Bless.”

Sherlock mumbled his thanks around another bite of his meal which he made quick work of.  Satisfied, he sat back against the couch with his tea.  Rubbing his reddened nose, he sniffled and turned to regard his brother once again, his lips pursed in thought.

“Hmmm.  Perhaps your refrigerator isn’t as much of an abomination as I said,” Sherlock finally remarked.

Mycroft’s eyebrows raised to his hairline.  This was a conversation he was most certainly not having with his brother.  He quickly changed the subject.  “Now that you have eaten, are you feeling any better?”

Sherlock sniffled and yawned.  He was suddenly exhausted.  He had been having trouble sleeping since contracting this illness.  The congestion had conspired against him, making him feel panicky and trapped, and when he did sleep he dreamt he had been trapped by Eurus and she had placed him inside a coffin, leading to several restless nights.

Sherlock shuddered, the memory making him uneasy.  He was aware of Mycroft’s eyes watching him, deducing.

“There was some Night Nurse in the cabinet.  It might help ease your symptoms enough to allow you to get some rest,” Mycroft suggested gently.

Sniffling, Sherlock nodded and picked up the package.  He removed two pills and swallowed them down with the dregs of his tea.  He looked down at his mug for a moment, thinking.  When he looked back up at Mycroft, he was open and vulnerable, and Mycroft felt his heart clench.

“She’s secure?” Sherlock finally asked and they were both aware how difficult that question was to be asked.

“Yes, brother dear, she is.”  Mycroft settled back against the far end of the couch.  “If it helps, I will stay here while you sleep.”

Sherlock nodded.  He started to curl up on the couch, wrapping the blanket around him.   Once again, he looked up at his brother with hesitation and vulnerability.  Mycroft could only see a younger Sherlock sitting in front of him after a nightmare had brought him into his room.  Suddenly choked with emotion, Mycroft could only nod.

Sherlock quickly curled up with his head in his brother’s lap and was asleep in seconds.

Mycroft sat silently watching Sherlock sleep.  And as the new day was rung in by Big Ben, he smiled fondly.  “Merry Christmas, brother mine.”

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Aww... 

Aww...  

Aww...  

This has all the feels. Such a perfect ending. 

[matilda3948]

Awww!! It's perfection! I love when the brothers let their guard down a little and sick Sherlock is my favorite thing.

Such great  hurt/comfort and care taking. I'm drowning in warm fluffies.

Thank you sooooooo much!

[Seeker]

Oh so sweet! Love it 

[Shamaël]

Oh Cally, that was absolutely fantastic. I enjoyed every word of it. Mycroft taking care of Sherlock is one of my weaknesses and the whole story was just... perfect.

On 06/01/2018 at 11:14 PM, cally said:

He was suddenly exhausted.  He had been having trouble sleeping since contracting this illness.  The congestion had conspired against him, making him feel panicky and trapped, and when he did sleep he dreamt he had been trapped by Eurus and she had placed him inside a coffin, leading to several restless nights.

Sherlock shuddered, the memory making him uneasy.  He was aware of Mycroft’s eyes watching him, deducing.

That was porbably the best part in my opinion... 

On 06/01/2018 at 11:14 PM, cally said:

When he looked back up at Mycroft, he was open and vulnerable, and Mycroft felt his heart clench.

“She’s secure?” Sherlock finally asked and they were both aware how difficult that question was to be asked.

“Yes, brother dear, she is.”  Mycroft settled back against the far end of the couch.  “If it helps, I will stay here while you sleep.”

... Or this one, I'm not sure. 

[AngelEyes]

Awww! Love!