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Sherlock sighed in irritation, throwing yet another request letter on the table.
“All more banal one after another,” he puffed a ring of smoke in the air, and looked at William, who was sitting in front of him, on the other side of the table. “Found anything worth solving?”
“Hm… how about this one?” William said with a hoarse voice, and gave the letter to Sherlock with a trembling hand. “It’s a locked room murder situation,” he explained, sniffing. “Mr. Lestrade gave it to Dr. Watson yesterday. Does it pique your interest?”
“Maybe. Did Lestrade give the details to John?” Sherlock glanced at William, and noticed his bad state; his cheeks were flushed, and sweat beaded on his forehead. “You okay?”
“Yes… why?” he said, panting a little.
“You don’t look well...” he leaned forward, and put his hand on his forehead. "You’re hot! You should get back to bed!”
“That’s not necessary…” William coughed and winced in pain. His throat hurt so much. “Didn’t you want to solve a mystery together?”
“It can wait!” Sherlock got up from his seat. “Your health is more important!”
William blinked twice, and held back a laugh. “Since when do you put others’ health before cases?”
Sherlock clicked his tongue. “Come on,” he helped his boyfriend get up, and William fell on him, feeling no strength in his legs and making the detective almost fall.
“There you go,” he grunted as he helped him get back up. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”
They headed to their shared bedroom, and as they reached it, William chuckled again. “I wonder what kind of doctor you’ll be..."
Sherlock twisted a wet towel, and put it on William's burning forehead. He looked at him for a few seconds, with worried eyes. His breath was faster than earlier. He must be in pain.
He patted his blond hair gently, and William opened his eyes. “I’ll ask John to check on you when he gets back. It doesn’t look like a cold.”
William smiled. “You worry way too much, Sherly…”
Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed. “If I don’t take care of you, you won’t. Is there anything you want me to get you?”
“Honey… it would help my throat.”
Sherlock gently caressed William's cheek with his thumb. “Consider it done.” He got up from the bed and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Knowing he probably didn’t have any honey bottle in his cupboards, he went to see Miss Hudson. He knew that if he told her it was William who needed honey, she wouldn’t refuse. She adored him.
While he waited for his landlord to find a honey jar, he looked at the vegetables that were on the table, and an idea popped into his mind. He smirked.
“Miss Hudson, can I have some vegetables too?”
“It seems that you have a common cold,” John explained to William. “All you need to do is rest and you should be fine by tomorrow.”
“See? You were worried for nothing,” William said to Sherlock.
“You heard him, Sherlock?” Miss Hudson spoke, glaring at the detective. She came to check on William to see if she could do anything for him as well. “I’m expecting you to stay quiet until Mr. Moriarty gets better!”
“I know, I know,” Sherlock said, a bit annoyed.
“Well then,” John got up from the stool. “I think we should let Mr. Moriarty rest.”
John and Miss Hudson headed to the door, and the young woman noticed that Sherlock wasn’t following them.
“You too, Sherlock!” She grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the room.
“Eh!? But Liam needs someone to be there for him!”
“No, I don’t,” William responded casually.
John closed the door, and William could still hear Sherlock arguing to convince them to let him come back into the room.
Alone in his room, William continued his reading of one of Sherlock’s cases, one of the few ones in which he wasn’t involved as the Lord of Crime. He couldn't help but smirk as he read a particularly interesting sentence about what tactic Sherlock used to solve the case. He quietly laughed as he got a new idea for when they would play their mind games.
Several minutes later, he heard footsteps coming closer, and Sherlock opened the door, with a wooden tray in his hands. William put the book aside.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to convince them to let you come back here.”
“When I reminded them that you needed calm, they rushed out of the apartment,” Sherlock grinned maliciously.
“You made me soup?”
“Yep!” Sherlock placed the tray on William’s lap. William stared at the soup before taking the spoon and dipping it into the orange broth. He brought it to his lips, and his eyes widened when he tasted the broth, and he reluctantly swallowed it. It had an... odd taste. To say the least.
“How is it?” Sherlock asked.
“… It’s good,” William forced a smile. There was no way he could finish this soup, even if it was Sherlock who made it. But he had to endure the bad taste. He took his book, and handed it to Sherlock. "Can you read this to me?"
“The Darlington Substitution Scandal?” Sherlock looked up at William. “Why are you reading John's books?”
“I wanted to know more about your previous exploits,” he cocked his head to the side. “Please?”
Sherlock then grabbed the book. “Alright, which page are you on?”
While Sherlock was reading, William took a few more sips, well, he tried, but quickly stopped. Instead, he listened to Sherlock until fatigue hit him and his consciousness slowly drifted into the void.
William woke up several hours later, and the room was plunged into darkness. The first thing he did was to observe his condition. His muscles were still aching, his throat sore, and a mild headache was in the back of his head. However, his breathing was better and less heavy than earlier.
He sat up, and his hand touched something. He turned his head and, despite the darkness, saw that Sherlock was there, sleeping with his head nestled in his arms. He smiled, and stroked his dark, messy hair.
Being a light sleeper, that soft and simple touch was enough to wake him up. As soon as he saw that William was awake, he sat upright and immediately asked him if he was alright. It made William laugh.
“I’m not terminally ill!” he stroked Sherlock’s hair faster, with his two hands this time.
Sherlock grunted, and leaned away so William stopped stroking his hair. He checked his temperature and smiled, looking reassured. “Your fever’s almost gone. That’s good.”
“Sherly,” William's hand gripped tighter on Sherlock’s. “Thank you for taking care of me today. I appreciate it.”
Sherlock kissed the back of his boyfriend's hand. “No need to thank me, sunshine.” he kissed his warm forehead. “Now, go back to sleep. You need rest.”
William nodded, and complied, letting Sherlock put the blanket over him. The detective lay next to him, and William blinked.
“You shouldn't sleep with me, you’ll catch my cold.”
"No way I’m sleeping on the couch tonight. And you need me to fall asleep, right?” Sherlock murmured the last words.
William shook his head. “Idiot…” he closed his eyes, appreciating Sherlock's caresses in his blond hair.
After minutes of silence, Sherlock sneezed.
“See? It’s already started.” William said.