Illness of a sociopath

Sherlock fanfic.
John's pov
"I'm back" I stepped in through the door to be greeted with my normal view. Sherlock unmoving. I highly doubt he has moved since I left.
"Johnnnnnn. Bored,"
"Bloody hell Sherlock, you just finished an experiment." I sighed dramatically pointing to the still boiling pot with what appeared to be filled with my jumper and some leaves. So he did move, surprising. I sat down in my red lounge chair opposite Sherlock. Taking hold of the union jack cushion I decided what was best for it. I threw it at Sherlock. The skinny man looked so innocent when he was curled up in a small ball shape with his blue satin dressing gown thrown over him. "Just because I have finished the experiment does not mean anything, and anyway it had extremely dull results. It does not prevent me from becoming bored... ow! What was that for?"
"Then find something to do." I yelled, my temper rising more evident in my voice than I had hoped. But Sherlock would be able to tell anyway, no use hiding anger in 221b.
"There is nothing in this world that fascinates me. I think I have concussion now." Sherlock was rubbing his head looking hurt, in both ways.
"Don't be stupid, of course you don't have concussion."
I looked up from my book and watched Sherlock sit up and instantly I realised that not eating must be catching up with him. He was pale and is sweating profusely, could be an illness, but Sherlock is never ill. Sherlock started to rise from his sit before his legs evidently gave way. "John I..."

Sherlock's pov
I have been sweating practically all day, and my throat has been killing me. Can't tell john though. He will over react and I can't have him going mother hen all over me, I have a case. Oh the embarrassment. Can't be ill on a case. The second john walked in and I braced myself for the discussion to come.
"I'm back." Came the overly chirpy voice from John. He has been on a date. Didn't go well. Good. I hate it when John goes on dates. I get bored without his presence. For a normal human, John is surprisingly fascinating.
"Johnnnnnn bored." I mutter from position I had obtained about ten minutes ago after cooking up one of John's jumpers. It was the only thing to hand and all my shirts where in my room. I wanted to see how long it would take to disintegrate. The leaves where already in there. I couldn't be bothered to move them. John shouldn't leave his jumpers in the kitchen. "Bloody hell Sherlock, you have just finished an experiment."
"Just because I have finished an experiment does not mean anything and anyway it had extremely dull results, and that does not prevent me from becoming bored" Then it hit me, literally. I should have seen it coming, john was angry and when John is mad. "Ow! What was that for?" I asked picking up the cushion and pulling it into my chest, it smelled of John.
"Then find something to do."
"There is nothing in the world that fascinates me. I think I have concussion now" the cushion did hit me on the head, causing my headache to go from a dulled aching pain to excruciating.
"Don't be stupid, of course you don't have concussion." Bored. Bored of this topic, and why can't my throat stop. It hurts.
I stand up to grab a glass of water, or maybe tea. As I sit up the whole world begins to spin around me, maybe I need to eat. When did I last eat? Its Tuesday today, I ate on Sunday. I don't eat on cases and I can still go one more day, I should be fine. As I stand I feel my legs fall from under me. "John..."

John's pov

"Sherlock what is it?" I look up from my book to see Sherlock slipping from beneath his chair. "Christ Sherlock are you alright?" stupid question.
I see Sherlock collapsed on the floor, black curls fallen over his closed eyes, and I go full on doctor mode. I grab my phone and call Mycroft. When did I get his number? "M... Mycroft, um Sherlock has sort of collapsed."
"Again?"
"What do you mean again?"
"Is he hot?"
"Now's not really the time for this!" I replied blushing. Why was I blushing?
"No john. His temperature."
"Oh right, yeah a bit." A bit, he was practically burning up, why didn't he tell me. "So what is it?" I question. Running to grab a flannel.
"He's probably just caught a bug. Last time he was ill, well I will let you discover it for yourself. Farewell doctor Watson."
"No wait!" the phone clicked of and I went back to army doctor. I dragged Sherlock of the floor and put his head on my lap, I started stroking his curls, not truly realising what I was doing. Then it happened.
"Johnnnn." Sherlock slurred. He sounded much like a five year woken early in the morning.
"Sherlock, I'm going to help you to bed, can you stand up?"
"I feel. I feel like I'm..." Sherlock crawled out of my arms and scurried towards the bathroom only not quite making it. I hear I sound that sounds a lot like vomiting coming from the hallway. "Oh bloody hell, are you alright?"
"John I am fine, go have some jam or something. That's what you normally do."

Sherlock's pov

Ill, I'm never ill. That's far too human. Now john was worried as well. Could this day get any worse? Apparently so. I scurry out of what felt like johns lap. Surprisingly comfortable. I try to run, but fall back in my knees, leaving me crawling towards the bathroom, and then it came up. I say it came up, but not eating means bile raised into my mouth and out on to the hall floor. Positively ill.
"Oh bloody hell, are you alright?" johns questions are getting worse, he used to be mildly intelligent. Not anymore it would seem.
"John I'm fine, go have some jam or something. That's what you normally do."
"Not this time. Why did you not tell me you felt bad?"
"You were out."
"When I got back?"
"It hardly seemed appropriate, you have just been dumped after all." John sighed and slipped his arm's arms went under mine to drag me. "NO! I don't want to move."
"You have to move you are sitting in a pile of your own sick. To the bathroom." Mother hen was beginning, this had only happened once before.