Mrs. Holmes [Book III]

Fever at 221B {Susanna}

Mid January

Susanna, you should probably come home as soon as you can. I think Sherlock might have caught the flu that's going around London. -JW

Scratch that. I'm ninety nine percent sure he's got it. -JW

I stare at the texts. Sherlock never gets sick. I've had two illnesses since we first met two years ago but he's never been ill.

How bad? What are his symptoms? -S

He's starting to run a temperature and his throat is swollen and red. Coughing, although he's suppressing it. He's denying that he is sick and I can't get anywhere with him. He's particularly upset that Lestrade sent him home when he started coughing. -JW

I'll try to get off early. Does it look like only a mild case? -S

Yes but Sherlock has never gotten sick and I'm not sure how it will affect him. Right now he's messing on the piano, looks kind of loopy. -JW

I message Doctor Maclaine to ask for early release.

He'll need medicine, John. If he starts messing with his chemicals it'll be downhill from there. -S

Not an issue. I put in a call to the pharmacy. -JW

Doctor Maclaine gives his permission and I clean up the lab quickly.

Thank you. I'll pick up the prescription on my way back. Inbound. -S

No problem. -JW

I hurry back home and stop along the way to get the medicine. By the time I get back to 221B, John is at wit's end with Sherlock, who is shooting the wall now and teetering ever so slightly. I march over and confiscate the firearm, "Sherlock Holmes! Stop this!"

"Of course John would have called you over an insignificant-" He wheezed, "-Cough!" I hand the gun to John and press the back of my wrist to Sherlock's face. He is indeed burning up and he's turning sickly pale. He coughs again, trying to evade me but I grab his arm.

"John would not have had me come home if it had been a simple coughing fit, Sherlock. You've probably caught the flu and you need to rest. Not shoot the wall!"

"I don't get sick." He defends.

"It catches up with you eventually, Sherlock. You're lucky it's the flu and not pneumonia or whooping cough," John finally inputs, now that he isn't hiding behind the door, "You picked it up, Susanna?"

"Picked what up?" Sherlock asks cynically as I dig into my purse and extract the white pharmacy bag.

"Yes. I got it." I hand it to John and he double checks it. Meanwhile Sherlock tries to pull away from me, but I maintain a vicelike grip.

"This should be enough for a few days. I think we caught it early enough that it shouldn't last as long as it could. You'll have to stay away from people as much as possible." John explains.

"England-"

"Won't fall because her Consulting Detective is ill, Sherlock. The more rest you get the faster you can return to solving cases. Alright?" Sherlock obviously wants to protest but as he starts to teeter even more he nods, relenting, "Good."

John gives explicit instructions for the medication and then hurries out, taking the gun with him. Then I nudge Sherlock into the bedroom and he collapses onto the bed with an anticlimactic flop. He's fully outfitted still- Coat, scarf, blazer, shoes and all, "Sherlock, sit up."

"You said I needed to rest." He murmurs into the duvet.

"But first we need to change you into pajamas, Sherlock." He grunts and gets off the bed long enough for me to disrobe him and get him into a soft tee shirt and his blue pajama bottoms before I tuck him in. Now that he's accepted that he is, in fact, burning a fever he's no longer resisting the impulse to burrow into the covers.

I go back to the living room and grab the medicine, bringing it in with a glass of water. I sit down on my side and prop him up the slightest bit so that he can take the pill without spilling water everywhere, "Cold..." Sherlock whispers. I frown and get up again. This time I change into my own  pajamas and retrieve a couple more blankets, heaping them atop my husband's lean form and then getting in with him. I had the flu last year so I doubt I'll contract it again so soon.

Eventually Sherlock stops suppressing his coughs and the most I can do is hold him and give him water. He snuggles against me and somewhat lazily throws an arm over me. Oh, Sherlock.

Thank you for reading!!