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“Sherlock, I’m going out to the shops. Do you need anything?” He called out as he pulled on his shoes.
Sherlock had been in his room all day, presumably catching up on the sleep he had missed out on after their most recent case which had them both neglecting a reasonable sleep schedule.
He got no response but he just assumed it was Sherlock being Sherlock and was soon on his way out the door to do the shopping.
…
After he had gotten back he laid his handfuls of grocery bags down on the counter and started putting everything away. When he was done he decided he would make some tea for himself and his flatmate.
“Sherlock, I’m making tea, do you want any?” He called out in the direction of Sherlock's closed door.
He waited a moment but there was no reply. He called out again but still, there was no response. He decided to go to Sherlock to ask, now that he thought about it he hadn’t seen him all day and it was well into the afternoon.
“Sherlock, are you in your mind palace again?” He asked through the door. He of course got no response “I’m coming in, I hope you're decent.” He said as he opened Sherlock's door.
The first thing he saw when he opened the door was a mound of blankets on the bed under which he could see the curls of the one and only consulting detective.
“Sherlock, are you asleep?” He asked even though he knew Sherlock would think that was a stupid question.
Sherlock stirred and peeked his head out of the pile of blankets cheeks flushed abnormally red “Hmm?” he hummed.
“Are you cold?” He asked. It wasn’t exactly a hot day but the number of blankets Sherlock was using seemed a bit excessive.
“Quite the opposite,” Sherlock said and he saw him visibly shiver. “Is that all you came in here to ask me?” Sherlock asked.
“Um, no, sorry. I came to ask if you wanted any tea.”
“Yes, please.”
“Alrighty,” He said and stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment then left the room closing the door behind him.
As he put the kettle on the stovetop he heard Sherlock’s door open and the man exit the room heading straight for the sofa dragging at least three blankets along with him.
Soon the kettle was whistling shrilly and he was pouring the hot water over the tea bags and adding sugar to his and Sherlock’s cups putting a splash of milk in his.
He walked over to the sofa and set Sherlock’s tea out in front of the man and sat down with his own cup blowing on it to cool it down.
As he sipped on his own cup Sherlock’s still remained untouched.
“Sherlock, are you not going to drink your tea?”
Sherlock looked up, he had obviously been spaced out thinking, and picked up the teacup and began sipping off of it.
While he sat there he noticed an occasional chattering sound and looked to see it was Sherlock’s teeth that were chattering and that the man was noticeably shivering throughout his whole body despite being surrounded by blankets.
“Sherlock are you alright? You don’t look too good?” He asked, concerned.
“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock said dismissively, taking another sip of his tea.
“If you say so,” He said but as they both sat there every once and a while he would hear Sherlock’s teeth chatter or, out of the corner of his eye he would see him shiver but it was apparent Sherlock was trying not to show how cold he was.
After about a half an hour of this, he decided to check if Sherlock was sick. The other man wasn’t exactly known for being able to take care of his health properly and he wanted to make sure that Sherlock didn’t make anything worse.
“Sherlock,” He said looking over to him and seeing the man was sweating as though he had just run a marathon in the heat of summer.
“Yes, John?’ he answered.
“You’re sick aren’t you?”
“No, I’m just cold.” Sherlock could be so childish sometimes. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Sherlock was sick, contrary to what he was claiming.
“I’m a doctor, Sherlock it wasn’t really a question. I know when someone is sick.”
“Well, I’m fine. I probably just have a cold.” Sherlock said not so subtly wiping away the sweat that was beading on his forehead.
He got up from his chair and walked over to where Sherlock was lying and put a hand on his forehead to check if he had a fever causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. Just as he had suspected Sherlock was burning up.
“Yep, you have a fever. It’s not just a cold and I’m going to make sure you get better because knowing you, you wouldn’t make the effort to.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,” Sherlock said stubbornly and sat up from where he was lying.
“Yes, you’re right you can take very good care of yourself now get up so we can get you back into bed.” He said sarcastically.
Sherlock did as he was told and shivered the whole way to his room. When he was back in his bed he helped him pile blankets on making sure that he was as comfortable as possible before leaving the room promising to come back with soup that would hopefully help warm him up.
He made a thin soup so that in case Sherlock started feeling nauseous enough to throw up it wouldn’t be too bad. He made it as fast as he could so that it could warm up the other man as soon as possible. He knew how awful it felt to be sick and cold and fighting to keep warm.
Before he walked into Sherlock’s room he gave a short knock to let him know he was coming in. “John?” Sherlock answered.
“I’m here,” he said walking over to him with the bowl of soup.
He set it down on the side stand and helped Sherlock sit up listening to him mutter something about being achy and unable to stop shivering.
“Here you go,” He said laying out a kitchen towel on Sherlock's lap (in case of spills) and passing him the bowl of steaming soup.
“Thank you, John,” Sherlock said sounding truly grateful as he held the bowel close to absorb its warmth.
“No problem. Call me if you need anything,” He said and turned to leave.
“Wait, John,” Sherlock said just as he reached the door.
“Yes?”
“Do you think you could stay here with me for a little while?” He asked looking down at his soup seemingly embarrassed to ask.
He smiled fondly at the sick man “Of course I can, let me just grab myself my own bowl of soup. Do you need anything from the kitchen?”
Sherlock gave him a small smile that made his heart flutter and said “Another blanket would be appreciated,”
“Sounds good,” He said and left the room.
Before he went to serve himself up some of the soup he went to his bedroom to get his favorite blanket which was very warm and very comfy.
When he returned to the room he saw Sherlock had only had a few bites of his soup which was no good.
“How’s the soup?” He asked as he put his bowel down so that he could lay the extra blanket down on to the sick man.
“Mmm, very good,” Sherlock said and put a big spoonful into his mouth to show he liked it.
“Good,” He said as he sat down with his own bowl next to Sherlock. They sat shoulder to shoulder both peacefully eating their food.
“Aren’t you afraid to get sick sitting so close to me?” Sherlock asked.
“I’m a doctor, Sherlock if I was afraid of getting sick I would have chosen a better profession.” He said scooting closer to prove his point.
“Fair enough,” Sherlock said and put his half-finished soup on the side stand and snuggled farther down into the bed leaning his head on his shoulder causing him to stiffen. Sherlock rarely let himself be touched let alone touched other people but here he was leaning against him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You’re so warm, John.” Sherlock said snuggling in even closer then he looked up at him “You don’t mind, do you, John?” He asked as he wrapped his arms loosely around him.
He swallowed thickly and then said, “Yeah, sure whatever’s comfortable for you.”
“I’m going to lie down then, not to sleep just to rest my eyes,” Sherlock said and scooted down and laid his head in his lap and making sure every part of him except a bit of his face was under a blanket.
Within minutes Sherlock was asleep even though he said he was only resting his eyes, not that he cared. He could feel the warm exhale of Sherlock’s breathing against his leg and felt him occasionally shiver in his sleep.
He put a hand down on Sherlock’s side and leaned his head back against the headboard and decided to “rest his eyes” too.