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Written for the LJ kinkmeme at sherlockbbc_fic. John catches cold whilst he and Sherlock go chasing clues in the rain, going on to prove that doctors make the worst patients.
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Johnlock
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Sherlock began to unravel the scarf that was tied at his throat.
"Do you want to borrow this?" John raised a hand in protest.
"No, keep it. It's my own fault for not wearing a coat. The cab will be here soon anyway." Damp as it was with the rain, John couldn't deny that the scarf had been tempting. He wasn't just cold and wet now, but properly chilled. The same feeling he'd had when, as a first year student, he'd got drunk and then woken up at five in the morning on a park bench; a chill that takes hold of your muscles and makes them ache. A chill that infects you with the damp of the wettest November since records began. God, he was cold.
Sherlock stared hard at John, and then slowly retied his scarf.
"I'm sorry that I dragged you out in the rain," he said slowly.
The cab took another thirteen minutes to arrive.