Work Text:
Fact: John is ill. Premise: John is particularly cranky. Further: John has not recently (read: within three days) broken up with or been broken up with by anyone. Further: I have not done anything abnormally wrong. Further: John has not interacted with Mycroft recently (read: within the week.) Premise: John has been coughing for the past several days. Further: His temperature is elevated. Further: He is abnormally tired, despite average to above-average hours of sleep per night.
Fact: John will not admit he is ill. Premise: John has been ill for three to five days and has yet to take time off work. Further: John has not added any kind of medication to his daily routine. Further: John has never, to my knowledge, admitted to being ill.
Conclusion: Unless immediate action is taken, John will likely progress in illness until he is no longer useful.
“John. You’re ill.”
“Am not.”
“John…”
“Bugger off, Sherlock.”
Course of action: Ineffective. Must reconsider enlist help.
“John, you don’t look good, mate. You alright?”
“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Wrong. You slept for eight hours, which is wholly unnecessary, entered REM sleep seven times, maintained the same position for six hours, and opened your eyes three times without waking up.”
“Look, Sherlock, I’ve told you…”
“I did not enter your room. I merely nicked Mycroft’s video.”
“Lestrade, you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who’s looking for a flat share, would you?”
Course of action: Ineffective. Perhaps a woman’s touch?
“John, are you alright? Only, you look a bit peaked. A lot peaked, actually.”
“I’m fine, Molly. Just a bit out of sorts.”
“Right! Of course. I was only worried, you know, because they always say doctors never admit when they’re ill, and well. You know what happened with Sherlock. Not admitting he was ill, that is. So.”
“Sherlock put you up to this.”
“No! Well. Yes. Only you really do look ill, John. I told him I wouldn’t lie for him. Not this time. To you, that is.”
Course of action: Ineffective. Shouldn’t have expected so much of Molly.
“John, dear, sit down. You’re positively grey. Come here.”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Hudson. Really.”
“You’re burning up, love! Oh, dear, you know there’s that nasty flu going around now. Have you had your shot?”
“Of course. We all get them at the clinic at the beginning of the season.”
“Well, you know they don’t always work. And you’ve been a bit sluggish lately, dear, don’t mind me saying so, of course. Oh, dear, you don’t look well. Would you like some tea? I’ll make tea, shall I, and you can take it up to bed. A few days of rest, I’m sure that’ll clear you right up. Good as new.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Hudson, but I’m fine.”
Course of action: Ineffective. Must recalculate.
“John, answer the phone.”
“John! The phone!”
“Ugh, fine. Yes, what is it?”
“Sherlock? It’s Sarah. John’s ill. I’m sending him home. Will you come pick him up?”
“If you’re sending him home, I shouldn’t have to come get him.”
“I don’t want to put him in a taxi alone, and you’ll forget to go down and get him.”
“You realize you have interrupted me at a critical point in… No, of course you don’t. Fine. Expect me in twenty minutes. Perhaps if I hurry…”
“I did inform you you were ill. Several times.”
“M’not ill.”
“Preposterous. You are abnormally weak, you are running a fever of at least 38˚, and you’ve been sent home by a doctor.”
“You talked to her.”
“I did no such thing. I avoid contact with Sarah.”
“Why.”
“Immaterial.”
“I will not carry you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then you must stand up.”
“I did. I am.”
“John. John. Stand up.”
“Bloody idiot. It is ridiculous that I should have to carry you up the bloody steps because you are too stupid to admit when you’re ill and take a bloody day off.”
“Wake up.”
“Mno. Go way.”
“John. The internet indicates you require fluids. Molly refused to give me an IV bag, so I must wake you up in order to give them to you – I attempted to give them to you while you slept, but you refused to swallow.”
“Is that why my pillow is wet?”
“Indeed.”
“Budge over.”
“What?”
“Budge over.”
“I don’t… Go away.”
“No. You have called me eight separate times in the past fifty six minutes. It makes much more sense for me to simply come in here. So budge over.”
“Are you gonna… Do you want some of the cover?”
“Alright.”
“Sorry it smells bad.”
“You are ill.”
“And it’s… You know…”
“Go back to sleep. Your bodily odours and perspiration are no more offensive than anyone else’s.”
“Yeah, alright.”
“Thanks, Sherlock.”
“Mmm.”