Sherlock: Sick and tired. 3 Of 6

Sherlock: Sick and Tired.

Chapter Three: Anything for you.


Sherlock had not tried to leave the house in two days which I do give him credit for since he was not a person easily contained. Though he has started to wear holes into the floors from is pacing, it was obviously getting to him being inside, and he even got dressed this morning in his usual attire.

But his body was still fighting with him so it didn't take long for him to have to sit down then curl up in my lap as I watched telly. His head was resting in my lap my hand on his thin shoulder if we were anyone else. Any other two people in the world we would look romantic. I look down at his head trying not to think, wanting to run my fingers through his damp hair but instead I pulled the covers over him he was still fighting his fever and his throat seemed to be at a standstill.

I knew I needed to take him out soon; he needed to get some fresh air. I knew this but I felt uncertain, I think I was a bit scared he was catch something worse then he got, he was stick. Being sick was like being an open wound, open to all kinds of bacteria since his body's immune system was over to stop what was already inside.

"John," Speak of the devil, I thought looking down to Sherlock, "Yes?" I asked and he shifts to look up at me his eyes were red and tears escaped him. Was he crying?

"I had a bad dream," I touch his hair trying to sooth him, "Of what?" I ask I knew what it was like to have night terrors.

"My throat never got better and soon I couldn't talk. I got worse and they had to take me away from Baker Street, they locked me up and I never saw you again." I press my fingers further into his hair, he was like a child and all I wanted to do was make him feel better.

"You know that won't happen, I wouldn't let that happen," I say and he closes his eyes momentarily, "I know," His voice is low, so low I almost miss his words.

"I think we just need to get you of the house before you get cabin fever," I tell him almost playfully, his eyes open and they are lit up like there was a fire there.

"But not on a case, you're not ready." He frowns, "I already figured that to be a long shot, where would we go?"

"I would say wherever you wanted but I figure that would be a stupid question to ask so I still have to think of something."

"Please think quickly John, I can't stand to be here another hour." He turns is head away from me and I stay staring at him. I felt my heart tugging at the strings keeping it up and happy, honestly I have become happier because of Sherlock no doubt about that but I have also developed this sort of sadness. Sometime I can ignore it but times like this where things are quite and Sherlock is close to me I almost feel like leaving or crying. I knew Sherlock had no use for romantic relationships, I knew but I wanted to hope but it made me sad to hope because I already knew nothing was ever going to happen.

Yes, maybe we will have days like this where he lets me touch his hair while he is curled up next to or on me. We will have days he crawls into my bed to think or sleep, days where we share an hour of normal conversation or a look.

Most of the time those are days that make me sad because it will never be a real relationship just Sherlock and his bounds and me hoping like a fool.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock asks and I frown still looking down to him, "Where to go out to obviously," I lie.

"Right," Sherlock moves his head to look up at me studying my face, "You look sad,"

"No, I'm quite alright," I try to smile but he doesn't look to convinced, "You know lets go out to eat," Sherlock rubs his throat not thinking about it, "Don't worry, we will get soup or something," He nods once before removing himself form my lap.

"Make sure to dress warm," I say after him, I take a moment before I stand and grab my coat.

*

After eating Sherlock wanted to walk home, he was avoiding going back for a long as he could push me and that was alright. He seemed to be doing a bit better with some fresh air in his lungs. He walks next to me in silence and I wonder what he was thinking then I realized I didn't want to know, Sherlock's brain was all facts.

He then wobbles a bit to the side towards me, his first reaction as it turned out was to grab my hand to steady himself. His hands were safely tucked into his gloves, those dammed gloves that were preventing me from holding his hand properly. I used my free hand to grip his shoulder and keep him steady.

We go a block and I expected him to let my hand go, but he didn't just held onto me as we walked even when he straightened himself out. A few people gave us looks but no one seemed to really care and I felt my face go hot. I wouldn't read too much into this, would I? No it was stupid to.

When we got home Sherlock turned to me, "Take me to bed, I'm exhausted."

"Alright," I lead him upstairs to his room, where I take a few minutes to get him out of his coat, scarf and under jacket. He falls onto the bed face up his eyes lulling. I then got him out of his suit jacket and shoes, he didn't protest and a few times I thought he had passed out on me but he didn't. His eyes watched my every movement like a hawk.

"You will stay with me to night right?" Sherlock asks as I lean over him to unbutton his pants, "If you want me to," I say and pull on his zipper, I was hovering over his crotch and I felt my hand shake.

"Of course," He replied lifting his thin hips to let me pull the fabric from his legs, I get them off and hang then up for him.

I come back to start unbuttoning his shirt before I went and grabbed him fresh pajamas, he stares up at me as I slowly undid each button, hovering over him. When I got to the last one I was near his crotch again and I could see he was aroused, surely not by me right?

I come back up to run my hands over his shoulders under the undone shirts so I could pull him up in to the sitting position while also slipping him out of the shirt. He sits up inches from me as I get the shirt from his body. He was only in socks and his boxers, what a sight he was, miles of soft milky skin.

He surprises me by running his hands up my arms and to my face where his thumbs rub over my ears. My hands already on the bed move to grip his waist, he doesn't move for a while and neither do I.

"Lay with me," Sherlock asks and I move to shut the light, he curls up on his side and I kick off my shoes still dresses and pull the sheets up over us making sure to tuck him in.

He pulls me close, so close to him I could feel his hear racing, "Thank you, John," Sherlock says against my neck, "I had a lovely evening," His breathing then falls into a rhythmic patter he had fallen asleep on me.

"Anything for you, Sherlock,"

"Anything for you," I whisper into his ear before kissing his forehead and closing my eyes to sleep as well.