Work Text:
Sherlock was quietly going out of his mind with worry, John had stopped eating. John Mr three meals a day was now barely eating a slice of toast and an apple a day. In fact Sherlock would be prepared to swear that the apple currently resting by John's tea was the one from yesterday. It was unacceptable, John should not be withering away like this, Sherlock was fairly sure this was his fault. Some how he'd messed up so badly that John had fallen into a depression so deep it was killing him.
He'd tried every trick John had attempted to use on him to get John to eat, but John was stubborn, polite, frighteningly distant and stubborn in his refusal. Sherlock was all but ready to drag John to the nearest hospital and demand they feed him by tube when the memory of one of John's more joking threats surfaced, well it might just work and he was out of other options really. He'd just have to work out the right menu, plan firmly in mind he reached for his laptop.
John woke slowly from a formless nightmare, he'd fallen asleep in a chair again. It had seemed so much effort to get up before, he knew he wasn't in a good place right now but the world was so gray and. Hang on, he was sure he hadn't been tied to the chair before he fell asleep. Instincts instilled by his time in the army and only heightened by years of living with Sherlock kicked in as he surveyed the flat.
He took an educated guess and called out "Sherlock?"
Sherlock appeared in the door way a heavy skillet hissing in his hand, he grinned at John and disappeared calling out "Don't go any where, with you in a moment."
John huffed out a silent laugh at that, as if he was going to be able to go anywhere. Sherlock was disconcertingly good at tying people to chairs. Sherlock walked into the living room a tray in his hands a smug grin on his face, John looked at the tray and then the grin thought back over the last few weeks and groaned.
"I should never have threatened to tie you to a chair and feed you should I?" He asked.
Sherlock chuckled "Last resort John, I was just about ready to have you committed to hospital to get nutrition into you."
John ducked his head, ashamed of having worried Sherlock so badly, "Sorry, I uh. Bad head space."
"I know," Sherlock said softly, "Eat this and I promise I'll let you go."
John nodded slowly, it was only fair he reckoned, he badgered Sherlock about eating.
After the first few mouthfuls of lightly fried clams and shrimps which had been tossed in a sharp citrus dressing John was wondering if he could get Sherlock to take over cooking duties on a permanent basis. The steamed vegetables that followed had a aromatic warm smell and taste that John struggled to place.
"Star Anise in the water." Sherlock supplied watching carefully to make sure John's digestion wasn't going to reject the light meal.
After a few minutes both of them where satisfied that the meal was going to stay down and Sherlock uncovered a plate that flooded the room with a rich, hot and complex smell that made John's mouth water.
"This might be a bit much," Sherlock said hesitantly "but well you liked the curry and Yasim was very willing to share the recipe."
John just stared at his flat mate in disbelief "You, you talked Yasim into giving you the recipe and then some butcher somewhere in finding you..." He trailed off
Sherlock speared a sliver of meat which dripped sauce and offered it to John "You regularly go to considerable lengths to make sure I am cared for, making you curried goat to try and tempt you to eat was the very least I could do."
John ate the offered morsel and as the long remembered explosion of taste and heat washed over him he felt warmth and color flood back into the world.