Sherlock: Sick and tired. 1 Of 6

Sherlock: Sick and Tired.

Chapter One: Sleeping next to you.

"John?" A rough voice called my name from my door, half asleep I roll over to see Sherlock watching me. His thin frame covered by a white sheet.

"What is it Sherlock?" I asked fighting the urge to close my eyes and fall back into a deep sleep.

"I wanted to ask you," He swallows a bit wincing at the pain he must have felt in his throat; I could tell he was sick. He looked paler than normal, his hair a mess and his face a bit flushed at the cheeks.

"If it would be alright if I stayed in your bed to night." I wasn't expecting that. Maybe for him to ask me for tea or to check to see what he had since I was a doctor, anything but him asking to come in bed with me. I would have said no any other night but him standing there by my door made him look like a child wanting to crawl into bed with his parents for comfort.

"Alright," I said shifting around in my bed to come loose from the sheets that I managed to twist around my body in sleep.

He walks slowly each step deliberate, his long legs don't take too long to cross my room and find their way to my bed. I propped myself up on my side as he crawled ever so slowly under my covers his sheet still wrapped tightly around his long limbs.

When he is still and lying on his side watching me I reach over to fix my sheets over him then press the back of my hand over his forehead. He was burning up, so hot and clammy I felt sorry for him, I knew what it was like to be sick and honestly its stinks. He doesn't say anything just watches me with his out of this world eyes, such a spectacular shade of blue/grey.

"What happens to be wrong with you?" I ask him rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"My throat is sore, I can't swallow without pain," He says blinking at me, "Can't eat either," I wanted to grin, he barely eats anyway.

"Right," I place my hand on his throat pressing slightly, "Obviously a throat infection." I say and he grins at me, "Obviously, John."

"You should be fine in three to six days," I say laying back my hand still on his throat but resting there not pressing, "To help you in the mean time you are going to have to drink lots of fluids, and getting plenty of rest," I say and he shifts from discomfort.

"If it feels like your throat is closing completely were going to have to go to the doctors," I say and his eyes lull a bit.

"Alright," He says softly his deep voice sounded scratchy and defeated.

"I'll make you tea in the morning," I tell him even though I do it every morning; I wanted him to feel taken care of.

"Thank you," He says watching me still and I wasn't sure if the heat was coming from me or him.

"John?" He says and I shift closer because his voice has gotten slower, "Yes?" He moves closer to rest his forehead against my shoulder, his lips pressing momentarily on my skin.

"Is it alright if I stay here then, until I am better?" He asks and I felt a tingle rise up my spine, "Of course," I tell him I couldn't say no to him not now, not while he was weak and sick and adorable,

"Thank you," He says softly and I couldn't speak instead I took the chance to wrap my arms around his thin shoulders.

For right now all I wanted was to be here sleeping next to you.

Sherlock is that alright?