Work Text:
The great detective must die?!
It was cold in New York. The last few days of November were particularly cold. William pulled his sleep tighter around his neck as he made his way home. He had just returned from a multi-day assignment. And was looking forward to his home and his loved one. It was always difficult for both of them to be separated from each other for long periods of time, but every now and then there was no other way. Before William returned home, however, he quickly went shopping for some groceries. He wasn't so sure whether his friend remembered to go shopping.
Because when William wasn't home, this so-called detective forgot to take care of himself. And so it often happened that the groceries were used up when William returned. William went through the groceries he had again so as not to forget anything. He even thought of Sherlock's cigarettes. His friend could sometimes be very unpleasant when he ran out. The memory of that brought a smile to his face. He was still like a child. He loved this little slob so much. And every time he saw his friend smile, he melted even more. After he had everything together, William walked quickly home.
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The door opened with a slight creak. William stopped in the hallway and paused a bit. >Cold< Was the first thing that came to his mind. But not only that, it was also unusually quiet. At first William thought that Sherlock might still be busy with a case. The blonde walked on until he came to the kitchen. Everything seemed as if no one had ever been here since William had left. Now he began to worry. Sherlock had been at work that day. Had something happened to him? He quickly put his things down and was about to head for Billy when he heard a strange noise. It came from another part of their apartment.
William couldn't say exactly where the noise was coming from, so he decided to proceed systematically. He started with the room closest to the kitchen. Her so-called living room and study. With his walking stick he pushed the door open a little to peek in.
>Empty<
The same with the bathroom; also empty. The last room was her bedroom. Before he even opened it, he heard noises that sounded like moaning. William wasn't sure what to make of it. He opened the door hesitantly. What was he about to see? Did he even want to know what was behind there? He swallowed hard and then opened the door.
He blinked a few times. The room was darkened so that only a little light came in. That was enough for William. He could see a familiar person on the bed.
"Sherly..." he murmured with relief. William came closer and noticed that this room was also quite cold.
"You should light a fire if you're already at home," William scolded him, but he got no answer. Surprised, he opened the curtains and looked at the bed. William's breath caught in his throat. A half-naked, sweaty, moaning detective was lying on their bed.
"Sherly..." William almost screamed and threw himself at the sleeping man. Although sleeping wasn't the right word. Sherlock was just dozing. He couldn't fall asleep, he was obviously in pain. The blond touched the detective's forehead and backed away.
"Fever! Sherly... since when?" he got no answer.
Judging by the state of the apartment, the detective must have been feeling bad for a few days. Suddenly he heard a quiet voice and looked at his friend, who was looking at him with slightly open eyes.
"Liam... I... I think I'm going to die...!? My head feels... like it's about to... explode and my body hurts... and feels hot..." the detective mumbled hoarsely.
William had to suppress his laughter.
"You tend to exaggerate. You'll get better." The blonde smiled slightly down at his dramatic friend. Sherlock had his eyes tightly closed again and groaned slightly. William had to do something quickly. He took off his jacket and vest. Rolled up his sleeves and went into the bathroom to prepare a bowl of cold water.
Then he took it into the bedroom and put it on her bedside table. William began to slowly clean Sherlock's sweaty body. He also took off his trousers and underwear. And got a long nightshirt to put on Sherlock. William was sweating; it wasn't that easy to change a sleeping Sherlock. But he had to get out of his sweaty clothes. When that was done, he put a damp cloth on his forehead and went into the kitchen. He made a large pot of tea and a warm broth with it lots of vegetables. In between, William ate some of the broth himself. He turned on the stove in the bedroom so that it would be warm there after he had aired the room.
Of course, he made sure that Sherlock was well covered so that he didn't get even sicker. He was with him the whole time. He wiped his face and gently brushed back individual strands of hair. It was already well after midnight. Sherlock had fallen into a deep sleep by now. The fever had finally gone down and Sherlock was already feeling much better. As he watched Sherlock like this, the blond felt his own exhaustion. He tried to fight it, but he didn't succeed. He fell asleep on the chair next to Sherlock.
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William didn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky. Startled, he sat up and looked at the now empty bed in front of him. He was just about to scream when he heard clattering noises from the hallway. Surprised, he stood up and went in the direction the noises were coming from.
"Sherlock Holmes," William scolded when he saw what the detective was doing.
Sherlock was immediately startled by his name. He turned everything off and slowly turned to William.
"Oh Liam. You finally woke up." Sherlock's smile disappeared when he saw William's angry face. "Sorry... I was already feeling better this morning and I thought..." he was interrupted. "And you thought 'I'll get out of bed to do something in the kitchen?' Sherly, you had a high fever yesterday, you still need some rest," William said in an annoyed tone.
"I know... But I was bored and you were sleeping soundly. I just wanted to express my gratitude. Look, I tried to make your favorite tea."
Sherlock pointed to the cup and beamed like a little child who wanted to make his mother happy. At this sight, William could no longer be angry with his friend.
Sherlock, who was watching him closely, noticed that his attempt had succeeded and beamed even more than before.
"Thank you very much. But that doesn't change the fact that you have to go back to bed."
"WHAT?! Liam, I'm fine. I don't want to... The great detective should stay in bed all day?" groaned Sherlock.
"Yesterday, the oh-so-great detective thought he was going to die," William mocked him. Sherlock blushed slightly as he remembered.
"Yesterday was yesterday and today is today." Sherlock tried to explain himself.
"Fine, if you say so. But if you get sick again, I won't take care of you," William muttered and left the kitchen angrily.
"Liam?! Where are you going?!"
"I'm taking a bath. Alone!" hissed William and pulled back.
"But Liam? Take me with you..." Sherlock asked.
"No!" was William's devastating answer to his request. Sherlock was speechless. He hadn't seen William so angry in a long time. To calm him down, Sherlock did what William asked of him and went back to bed. William ran warm water and sighed heavily. This man was not a man, but simply an overgrown child.
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William didn't know how long he had been in the bathroom, but when he came out, to his surprise, everything was quiet. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. At first William thought that Sherlock was insulted and was leaving the apartment. But when he came into the bedroom, he found the detective fast asleep. A smile played around his lips when he saw his friend's resting face.
William couldn't help but give him a kiss on the cheek. He was careful not to wake him.
>Always so stubborn... my dear Sherly..<
After thinking about it for a moment, William decided to get into bed with him. And keep Sherlock company that way. He snuggled up to him and almost had a heart attack when Sherlock pulled him closer. "Thank you..." he murmured quietly. William was silent. He wouldn't make it that easy for this man. Instead, he too closed his eyes and fell asleep next to him.