A Spoonful of Sugar (Johnlock)

                      DAY THREE

"He's sick.."

"I am not."

"You are too."

John had been watching Sherlock paddle about the flat for the past three days with slump in his shoulders and eyes slit practically closed. He didnt order this, He'd specifically requested one tall lanky asshole; Not one tall lanky sack of mucus and bones with whip lash and a bit of an attitude.

If he'd wanted that he could have very easily walked down to the park and picked one out himself, but instead, he has a dysfunctional Sherlock, A very startled (but not surprised) Ms. Hudson, and what looks to be soup plastered onto the ceiling. He says looks to be because he doesnt remember buying soup and soup isnt usually that color or consistency.

"Have you checked his temperature then?" Ms. Hudson was hovering over John's shoulder as if to get a better look at the mess infront of her, but John sighed and shook his head while he answered

"No, the prat wont open his mouth." And to that Sherlock only smirked with some sick pride. What an overgrown child.

"Oh, you think thats funny then do you? Well I think it would be to your benefit to know that I'm also the very proud owner of a rectal thermometer" Sherlock blinked once and John let out a laugh, "Oh no, you heard correctly."

"Honestly John, It's a cold, I'm not dying." The words were muttered out in a way that he could literally taste his attitude. Was it a cold or was Sherlock turning into an actual teenage girl. If John wasnt looking right at Sherlock he would have sworn he even rolled his eyes.

"You say that now. Two days ago I would've agreed with you, a cup of tea maybe a mint and some warm lemon juice, you'd have been fine; But its now day three, and you look just about ready to hudle up in a corner and rock back and forth in a puddle of your own piss and tears. Now ..So help me Sherlock holmes, open your goddamned mouth!"