A Spoonful of Sugar (Johnlock)

DAY FOUR

"John. John...Joooohn!"

So he'd gotten the thermometer in.

How? It doesnt matter, but he got it in no doubt. The output was a fever of 103, one hundred and three.  "its just a cold , John" He says. "I'm not dying, John" He says. Well Sherlock can whine and moan all he wants, he's not leaving the house.

The only downside of having a sick Sherlock, is also having to deal with a Constantly bored Sherlock. Not that that's anything he hasnt already dealt with before; there's just less ways for John to make him not bored.

"Yes, Sherlock." His voice was tired and dull because well he already knew what was coming, no doubt another request and or command from his royal majesty himself. With that thought came another...but thats a story for another day.

"Fetch me your revolver."

"You've got legs, you can go and get it your-..Why do you need my revolver?" John leaned over in his chair to peer at Sherlock draped across the soft from across the room.

"Why do you need to ask so many questions."

"Oh was that sass I heard just about then, Misses Holmes." John smirked and settled back into his chair with a content sigh. Just a couple more days, he reasured himself. Just a couple more days. He'll be feeling better by then. "You take your medicine yet?"

"If you mean that spoonful of death you left out for me on the countertop, no."

"Its Acetaminophen, and why not, I left it out for a reason."

"Its death, and because I dont feel like dying."

Oh, this is going to be a long week.