Benzoin (Sherlock BBC) - Secret Santa for Arc Reactor

[Shamaël]

Hello @Arc Reactor! I am your Secret Santa this year and I apologize for posting yout gift so late. I'm also sorry because I can't offer you a fic from your favorite fandom. I don't know it well enough to be at ease with it, so Sherlock it will be...  I have a very precise headcanon, in which Sherlock isn't allergic to a lot of things, but when he is... it's quite impressive. I wish you (and everyone) a happy new year!!!

Thank you SO MUCH to SCW for the proofreading!

 

Benzoin

“Shouldn’t we wait for Lestrade and Forbes…?”

John’s suggestion faded on his lips in front of his friend’s lethal glare. He sighed for what seemed the millionth time today while the detective started to pick the lock of the front door, completely oblivious to the passers-by. The two Scotland Yard inspectors were going to be thrilled to see that the world’s only consulting detective had broken the law because he couldn’t wait or them five minutes.

He had known Sherlock Holmes for approximately three months now, and still marvelled at his flatmate’s unsurpassed talent for infuriating everyone he worked and even spoke with. How John Watson had managed to survive those few months without having a nervous breakdown or running away from Baker Street was a mystery. Maybe he wasn’t as sane as he claimed to be. Maybe he actually enjoyed this mad life.

That was a question for another day, he decided when the door opened with a faint click.

“Seriously, Sherlock, Lestrade’s going to be here in a few minutes. And he has a search warrant. Why don’t we wait for him instead of breaking into this house like a pair of burglars?”

“I want to have a look at Mrs Petersen’s pharmacy chest”, Sherlock answered, sneaking in the empty house. “Preferably before Forbes and his stupid policemen tamper with the evidence. He doesn’t like me, you know that, and if he can be in the way and prevent me from investigating on that case, he will.”

“I really wonder why”, John sneered, but he followed Sherlock without the slightest hesitation.

Because, God help him, he was really enjoying this.

He was definitely insane.

The detective switched on the light and hardly glanced at the old-fashioned dining room and quaint flowery wallpaper before heading for the first floor.

“Her brother was hypochondriac”, Sherlock explained, opening a door and immediately closing it dismissively. “And so is she. The forensic said he took too much medicine, but I am sure his sister is very gifted with drugs and poisons. All I need is a very small evidence and…”

He opened a second door and stopped abruptly in front of the absolute mess that was the bathroom. John glanced at the small room and chuckled.

“The medicine chest, uh?” he teased his friend.

All the furniture – a little shelf above the basin, a chest of drawers, a stool, the small cupboard underneath the sink – was entirely covered with dusty medicine boxes, cough drops, pills, half-empty syrup bottles and small flasks of essential oils. Most of those last ones were opened, and the very strong smell had John cringe and slightly coughing.

“A rather impressive collection”, the doctor whistled, opening the huge pharmacy chest, which was full of medicine boxes as well. He had rarely seen such a display of medical drugs, even in the house of the most hypochondriacal man he had known.

His friend didn’t answer and immediately started to open the packs, unfolding the instructions for use and dropping the pills, the boxes and the papers when they didn’t interest him anymore.

“What are you looking for?” John asked. “Can I help you?”

Sherlock turned towards him and opened his mouth (to answer him or to ask him to be quiet, John couldn’t guess), but his breath suddenly caught and his brow furrowed in a typical pre-sneeze expression, nose crinkling and eyes sliding shut.

“Hehh… Hih… Hun’gh’iitchuuh!”

The half-stifled sneeze was surprisingly high-pitched for a man with such a deep voice. The detective bent over in a melodramatic movement and almost hit the basin with his head. John chuckled.

“Bless you. That was very cute.”

The detective straightened up with a liquid sniff and an offended look and didn’t dignify that with an answer, but continued to inspect the medicine boxes, completely ignoring his flatmate.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re upset because I said you have a cute stifled sneeze?” John asked in disbelief. “It’s always better than those thunderous explosions you favour me in the middle of the night. I’d be grateful if you stifled all your sneezes this way.”

Sherlock’s sneezes were really loud and had awaken John once or twice. He had never seen him with a cold though and suspected it would take epic proportions. He was not looking forward to it with great enthusiasm.

The detective dropped the box he was looking at and his normally alert eyes became completely unfocused under twitching eyebrows. His chest heaved as his laboured breath sped up and his eyes shut with what seemed to be an unbearable tickle. A last breathy hitch, and he lurched forward with violence, hands miraculously cupped over his mouth and nose (generally, Sherlock didn’t bother to cover).

 “HiiHHH”GGSshhiihh!”

This one was a bit louder and when Sherlock came back to his usual standing position, he swayed and put a hand on the basin to steady himself. John’s irritation shifted into slight concern.

“Bless. Are you all right?”

Sherlock shrugged and rubbed his nose with an exasperated sigh.

“I need to sneeze and… hehh… I have difficulties… concentrehhhhh… concentrating… when… hih… aahh…”

His eyelashes fluttered and he took a sharp inhale, eyes closed in anticipation, but the tickle seemed to abate and the hitches slowly relaxed. He let out a shuddering breath, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Are you catching cold?” John insisted.

Two sneezes on a row wasn’t much, but it clearly wasn’t over and Sherlock was by no means a sneezy man.

The detective turned to the side and looked angrily at a small bottle opened on the shelf above the basin.

“No, that’s not the problem. Of all fragrances, she needed to have this one!”

John’s eyes rested on the bottle and he finally understood.

Oh.

“Essential oil of benzoin”, he read. “You’re allergic to benzoin?”

“Yes. The one thing I’m allergic in the whole world.”

John smirked.

“Well, genius, if you told me what you’re looking for, maybe I could help you and we could be out of here more quickly.”

Sherlock sniffed wetly, which seemed to trigger an inopportune reaction in his sinuses, since his breath immediately started to become uneven once again. He buried his nose in his sleeve to wipe away the itch, but it didn’t help. He shook his head in annoyance but couldn’t control the rhythm of his breathing, and remained here, unable to speak or to do anything, trying to hold back or to coax out a particularly vicious sneeze. His eyes were watery and he blinked several times to chase the tears away.

“Sherlock, it seems quite a strong reaction if you’re that sneezy although you only breathed the oil from a distance”, John pointed out, starting to worry at his friend’s red nose and puffy eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”

Sherlock, finally surrendering to his nose’s imperative, cut him off with a tremendous sneeze he didn’t stifle at all.

“HaahHEEESCHSSHAH! Johd, ndow is ndot the tibe.”

He straightened and went to the basin to have a look at the boxes upon the shelf, but he staggered, tripping on a box he had thrown on the floor and hit the shelf with his elbow. The little benzoin bottle wavered dangerously, and in a (very, very stupid) reflex, the detective extended his left hand to catch hold of it.

The essential oil spread everywhere on the basin, and – more problematically – on the younger Holmes’s hands and sleeves.

Uh-oh. A bit not good, John thought, torn between amusement and frustration. Sherlock jerked his head back, hands stretched the furthest away possible from his face.

“John… ehh… do something!” he whispered in panic while his nostrils started to flare.

“What do you want me to do?” the elder man asked, crossing his hands on his chest.

“Ahhh… EHhh… Give me an antihistamine or some-heh… something like that”, Sherlock pleaded, eyes half-closed and nose quivering furiously.

John looked at the mess around him.

 “I’m sorry, I’m not a walking pharmacy and most of the stuff here are out-of-date. I have tissues if you want, but…”

“HiiHHH'GGSshhAHh!”

The sneeze sounded a bit more desperate that the others, as if something had been unleashed in Sherlock’s nose. He sniffed hard in attempt to control the irrepressible tickle, but his shoulders shiver with a new series of hitching breaths.

“Bless you. Want that tissue?”

Sherlock nodded faintly and almost snatched the precious item from his friend’s hand before blowing his nose desperately, with little effect, since the allergen was everywhere on his hands and precious coat.

At that moment, the faint noise of a door opening reached their ears. Sherlock’s eyes widened in horror.

“Hehh… If it is… ahhh… Mrs Petersen… hihh… ehhh…”

If it is Mrs Petersen, so much for the surprise effect, John thought, considering the boxes spread on the floor and his friend’s face. The woman was probably going to call the police if she found two men in her bathroom. If they were discrete, maybe they could slip through the ground floor and manage to get out, but after two more gasps Sherlock pitched forward violently, face hidden in his steepled hands.

“Heh'mpphshhhahh!”

Even muffled in the tissue, Sherlock’s sneeze was still powerful.

“Great”, John sighed.

His friend’s face would have been comical if he had not seemed so desperate. He was frantically trying to hold back the next sneezes which seemed to be looking forward to getting out of his twitching nostrils. They distinctly heard two footsteps coming up the stairs.

“HAHTCH’AH!”

The harsh sound alerted the new comers, and Lestrade appeared at the bathroom door, immediately followed by Forbes.

 “What are you doing here?” the inspector yelled, while Lestrade rolled his eyes with a weary sigh.

“We needed… ehhh… HehhhTSCHAHahh! to have a look at… ahhh… at… ahhh… ataahhh…”

He struggled to finish his wavering sentence, but he simply couldn’t do it, and remained here, poised on the edge of a sneeze, completely overwhelmed by the need to release the pressure on his sinuses, and completely unable to do so.

“AAAhsSHHhuh!”

Sherlock’s head finally bobbed forward into the soaked tissue. He let out a frustrated sigh as his mouth opened again to take another sharp inhale.

John had pity on his friend and finished his sentence:

“Sherlock wanted to have a look at the medicine she was keeping in here. We are sorry we didn’t wait for you, Inspector.”

The detective looked at him in a way that meant he was absolutely not sorry, but fortunately, another ferocious sneeze prevented him from expressing his opinion on the matter.

“HHeh’hIHSHHHhheh!”

John took this opportunity to crush his friend’s foot under his own.

“We’re leaving”, he said. “He’s having a massive allergy attack and I have to take care of him.”

 Forbes looked suspiciously at the doctor, apparently wondering if he was making fun of him or trying to trick him in any way, but Sherlock’s face spoke volume about the discomfort he was in. The itchy state of his nose was obvious in the flaring of his nostrils, the angry red of his skin, the irritation above the upper lip – and his incapacity to articulate a single word (which was a good thing, John thought).

“All right”, Forbes conceded. "But we’re going to have a small conversation when he’s better.”

John nodded and firmly grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Do you need help?” Lestrade asked with genuine concern.

“Ehhh… You don’t have-heh… You don’t have-hah… to babysit me”, Sherlock snapped, but the three sneezes that erupted from him somehow lessened the impact of his words.

“Yeah, sure, you’re a full grown-up and you don’t need anyone’s help”, John sneered. “Now shut up and come with me.”

His friend didn’t protest and John guided him on the stairs and outside the house, eager to put some distance between Forbes and the detective. They had been lucky he didn’t arrest both of them immediately for breaking and entering.

Sherlock’s state was another problem, which worried John increasingly. As they walked down the street, the smell of benzoin followed them, since the detective’s coat sleeves were full of it, and each time he brought his hands to his face to sneeze or blow his nose, he exposed himself a bit more to the irritant.

“Remove your coat”, John ordered, suddenly stopping in the middle of the street.

Sherlock tried to answer, but could do nothing than sneezing helplessly in the crumple tissue he had been using since the beginning of the fit.

“HehISHAAAH! HehhSCHAAahh! HuhH’ITSCHHhsh! Hahh’ITSCHHHish! Johd, I cand’t stop… I… ehhh… Hih’ITSCHCHH! HehhhSCHUHhh!”

He finished with a useless and thick sniff while John helped him removing his coat and put it on the nearest bench.

“Don’t blow your nose, don’t rub it with your hands, you’re only making it worse.”

“But it… hhehh… It itches so much… Ahhh… HihhTSCHhhAH!”

Sherlock hastily raised a hand to scrub his nose. Of course it didn’t lessen the tickle and he helplessly doubled over in a deafening triple.

“HuhASHH’SHUH! Huh’ETSCHHhih! Hih’EhhhCCHHhih!”

“Sherlock”, John ordered with his best military voice, “STOP. NOW.”

The detective froze and his arms fell limply on his body’s sides while he attempted to calm down the violent hitches of his breathing. John hastily took a fresh tissue and clamped it over Sherlock’s mouth.

“Huhh’IHHtscchh!”

“Blow your nose”, John asked more gently, and his friend complied a bit sheepishly. “Keep your hands behind your back and sit down on the bench.”

Sherlock sat, visibly exhausted. His friend, however annoyed with the detective’s behaviour, couldn’t help but feeling empathetic. He know how an allergy attack of that magnitude could wear the victim out, and he also knew Sherlock had not been sleeping much during the last nights.

“Johnd… ehhh… the itch is still… Ahh-AHHSSHuuh!”

He sneezed freely, turning his head away, and lifted a hand in reflex to wipe the tickle away, but John caught his fingers before they had time to reach his face.

“Don’t rub your nose. The irritation will fade away in some minutes, but you have to be patient.”

The doctor laughed inside at his own words. Sherlock, patient? Yeah, sure. But, against all expectations, his flatmate remained unmoving and quiet, trying to fight another volley of sneezes John could almost see gathering in his quivering nose.

“Let them out, Sherlock, don’t hold them back”, he said gently. “It’s not pleasant, I know, but…”

“Heh’ITSCHhh! HhhhETSCHH! HH’AAASSCCHH’UH! Ugh…”

Even when the fit ceased, he didn’t pick up his head, but remained hunched, eyes closed and breathing heavily. John softly brushed out a tear that had rolled on his cheek. Sherlock’s eyelids snapped open at the unexpected contact and his friend hurriedly retreated his hand.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to help you. I know you don’t like to be touched.”

“No, it’s… it’s all right”, Sherlock answered a bit uncertainly, his voice hoarse from the sneezing. “Thank you”, he added, before directing a harsh “Hh’ETCHHuh!” into his sleeve.

 “You’re welcome.”

At that point, John realised he had been tracing soothing circles on his friend’s back with his left hand and that Sherlock had not avoided the contact, as he always did when people came a bit too close.

“Is it… unpleasant?” John asked, uncertain about what to do now that the fit seemed to be relenting.

“Hh’ATTHCHhuh! Sniff – No.”

John smiled and sat near his friend without ceasing gently stroking his back. After a minute or so, Sherlock’s head came to rest upon his friend’s shoulder. His breath became more and more even. He still sniffed from time to time, but the worst seemed to be over. John strangely felt no awkwardness in this strange situation. It was the first time he saw Sherlock that vulnerable, and confident enough to allow himself not to be on his guard.

“Are you feeling better?” John asked eventually.

No answer came. He glanced at Sherlock to realise that his flatmate was peacefully sleeping, head loose and relaxed on his shoulder.

The passers-by looked amusedly or with tenderness at the couple, and John sighed.

Life with Sherlock Holmes could really be embarrassing.

Still, only God knew why, he did enjoy it more than anything else.

Edited January 1, 2018 by Aliena H.

[lsbn]

Awwww they're so cute XD That was very touching/well-written  

[Arc Reactor]

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL! I LOVED IT THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 

3 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Blow your nose”, John asked more gently, and his friend complied a bit sheepishly. “Keep your hands behind your back and sit down on the bench.”

John bossing Sherlock around is the best thing ever!!

3 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

John smiled and sat near his friend without ceasing gently stroking his back. After a minute or so, Sherlock’s head came to rest upon his friend’s shoulder. His breath became more and more even. He still sniffed from time to time, but the worst seemed to be over. John strangely felt no awkwardness in this strange situation. It was the first time he saw Sherlock that vulnerable, and confident enough to allow himself not to be on his guard.

“Are you feeling better?” John asked eventually.

No answer came. He glanced at Sherlock to realise that his flatmate was peacefully sleeping, head loose and relaxed on his shoulder.

The passers-by looked amusedly or with tenderness at the couple, and John sighed.

Life with Sherlock Holmes could really be embarrassing.

Still, only God knew why, he did enjoy it more than anything else.

AWWWWWWW the feels are hitting me

4 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

The essential oil spread everywhere on the basin, and – more problematically – on the younger Holmes’s hands and sleeves.

THIS^^ poor Sherlock 

[Always]

I loved this! Sneezy Sherlock  and I love an in control/caring John Watson! Great job!

[castiel_angel]

This is fantastic! I have no idea how I didn’t find this sooner brilliant job as always

[2SHY222]

I am in love ❤️💙💚