"The moment she walked in, she knew something wasn't quite the way it should be…"

Prompt – Guest (Someone): Sickfic with Twelve where it seems like he's just got an ordinary flu virus and then it suddenly turns out that it's not and it goes bad. Clara needs Danny's help to find out what it is. Bonus points if you can get in Vastra, Jenny and Strax!

Twelve sickfic. Doctor/Clara friendship, set between series 8 and 9. Multi chapter. Major hurt/comfort fluff, angst and lots and lots of feels later on.

First of all, I apologise for not including Danny… I wrote loads of different drafts with him in it, but it just did not work out. He always ended up being "that one character who is dispensable" and if I'm writing a fic with Danny, that's the last thing I want for him. Either give them a good part or no part at all, is my rule. If a character is dispensable, chuck them out. But I'll see that I can do a Danny story sometime in the future, where he gets to be the hero and stuff! :) Cause I love him and I really want that for him.

I did manage to get the Paternoster Gang in there, so I guess minus points for the absence of Danny, but bonus points for the Gang? *is hopeful*

Anyway… I'm sorry, but I still hope you'll like it! :)

And last but not least, a small dedication: This is for a friend of mine who is going through a really tough time right now. Hope this fic brings some cheerfulness back into your life!

THE ONE WHERE IT ALL WENT WRONG – 1

The moment she walked in, she knew something wasn't quite the way it should be.

It was strange. The Tardis still looked her usual old self thank goodness, but the atmosphere… the atmosphere was quite different. Quite dull. The room was darker than usual and except for the occasional blinking, the spotlights around the edge of the upper deck were turned off. And the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

Usually he'd either be up ahead, doing… whatever with the console or down below, sitting at his desk, tinkering with some fancy gadget or other. And anyway, as soon as Clara would come in he'd jump up and run over to her, all excitement and anticipation for their next trip. A bit like a puppy, she thought, a smile playing on her lips.

But this time, she wasn't even sure if the Doctor was even in here. Maybe he was in the library or something. And… was that just her or was it much warmer in here than usual? The Doctor tended to keep the Tardis' climate in the range of 'bloody freezing', due to his own rather low body temperature and his refusal to be in any way accommodating towards his friends. Put on a jumper, indeed…

"Doctor?" Clara tried cautiously, not really knowing what to expect. To tell the truth, she felt a bit silly calling for him like that.

There was a sudden clink of metal, a short cough and then a voice spoke up: "Over here." It had come from straight ahead. She did recognise that it was the Doctor's voice, but Clara couldn't help but notice that its pitch seemed to be a notch... deeper than usual. But maybe that was just her. The acoustics in the Tardis control room were weird anyway.

Clara frowned, slowly walking along the middle of the room, until she spotted the Doctor's legs sticking out from under the console. He was lying on his back, head stuck amongst the wires of the central column, in exactly the right way to make him invisible from the entrance. There were gadgets and tools strewn all around him. Including the actual toolbox, which was tipped over to conveniently spill all its contents towards him.

"Hey, mister grumpy-face!" Clara smiled. "For a moment there, I thought you'd gone out and forgotten all about me," she said and gently kicked her foot against his shoe. He immediately pulled it away with an annoyed 'harrumph'-sound. Clara leaned her back against the console and let her eyes wander along the gloomy bookshelves at the top of the room. "So… any chance you'll tell me why you're hiding yourself under the console? Did the old girl have another hiccup?"

"She can hear you, you know!" the Doctor rasped. And it was a textbook rasp. It sounded like his vocal cords were laced with sand. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from carrying on. "And anyway, I'm not h–"

His words were cut short when the 'H' turned into a long, breathy cough, after which several more followed. It sounded rather painful. Clara pulled a face in sympathy, when he finally managed to continue after another two failed attempts. "… I'm not hiding… I'm working."

Clara waited patiently for him to add some other quip, but all he did was clear his throat, sniff and carry on tinkering. "You sound terrible," she finally commented.

Another sniffle came from below. Somehow, he managed to fill the sound with a very deep sense of irritation. "'Course I do."

"Cold?"

"Flu."

Having stared straight ahead for most of the conversation, she now turned her head to the side, frowning. "You've got the flu? Shouldn't you be, I dunno… in bed? Or in your comfy chair, reading a book? Instead of lying around on the floor?"

"It isn't that bad yet!" the Doctor protested rather unconvincingly, because he could hardly get the words out.

Clara rolled her eyes theatrically. "Doctor, you can hardly speak three words. Yes, it is that bad. Go to bed!"

"I only need something to drink… Oh, this is ridiculous..." he added in a croaked whisper, as his voice finally started disappearing altogether. Trying to get some semblance of control back over his vocal cords, he cleared his throat forcefully, which then launched him into the second coughing fit in as many minutes.

Shaking her head, Clara sighed. "Okay, that's it. You definitely need something against that cough… I'll be in the kitchen. If the Tardis hasn't moved it again, that is…" she informed the spluttering Time Lord and took a few steps towards the stairs. Then she hesitated, turned around and added: "And for god's sake, Doctor, come out from under there! You're going to hurt yourself."

It didn't take Clara all that long to find the kitchen, even though the Tardis had indeed moved it to a totally different corridor than the last time she'd been aboard. She wasn't at all sure if the old ship did it to spite her or if that was just… normal. Or rather, as normal as a life on board a time machine with a consciousness and the appearance of a police box could get. The Doctor certainly never seemed to complain about disappearing rooms…

Fifteen minutes later, she was back in the console room, holding two steaming cups. Only to find the Doctor stomping his foot on the floor repeatedly and groaning, still half-hidden under the console.

"Doctor… What the hell are you doing?", she questioned him, making her way up to the main floor

He was now stretching his legs out and wiggling his feet, as people do when they're trying to get a pain response under control. "If you must know," he muttered, "I sneezed and hit my forehead on a metal rod in the column… Stop laughing, it's not funny! It hurts!"

Clara held her breath to get her chortling under control. Without much success, because a moment later, she burst out into full-out laughter. She just couldn't help herself. The picture her mind presented her with was simply too funny.

"Yes, yes, please keep amusing yourself at my expense. Thank you very much, Clara, you're an enormous help right now!" he exclaimed testily, letting his arms fall to the ground.

Meanwhile, Clara finally got herself under control enough to speak again. "Well, maybe you shouldn't stick your head into any confined spaces right now."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Taking a seat next to the Doctor's legs, she nudged him with her knee and asked: "So, are you comin' out from under there or am I going to have to drag you?"

A tired sigh drifted over to her and then a rather defeated-sounding "Oh, okay", as the Doctor wiggled himself out of the opening and sat up, blinking several times, as if trying to focus his eyes. His eyebrows were set in a deep frown and his face carried the sort of sour expression of a person who was feeling deeply uncomfortable.

For the first time, since she'd arrived, Clara was able to have a good, long look at her friend.

It was quite obvious to her that he wasn't feeling well in the least. First of all, he seemed to be wearing his entire wardrobe, all at once. Not just the hoodie and the jacket, but also a thick, woollen jumper, a shirt and probably a t-shirt under that as well. And most surprising of all… a brilliant, red scarf. For a man who usually despised any neckwear, especially the kind that that was long, thick and made of wool, that was a telltale sign to his current disposition. And not to mention the unnatural gleam of his eyes and paleness of his skin. He was already quite a pale person, but right now his skin tone looked positively grey. All in all, it was safe to say that he looked absolutely miserable.

"Please don't comment," the Doctor sighed, as if knowing what she was thinking.

Clara felt a pang of sympathy for him, watching as he took both his hands up to his face and started tiredly rubbing his eyes, letting another series of coughs slip out.

"Yeah, I won't," she promised and offered him one of the cups by holding it out to him.

He pulled his palms back, letting them rest on the top of his head, so that his fingers got entangled in his hair and eyed the beverage suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Warm milk and honey," Clara explained. "My gran always used to make that for me when I was ill. Works wonders on a sore throat. Plus, it's delicious."

The frown on the Doctor's face told her that he didn't quite believe her words, but he grabbed hold of the cup anyway. "Thanks," he muttered and, after a moment of close scrutinisation, took a sip. Then, the frown lifted itself and he nodded in mild approval. "Not bad."

Clara smiled into her own cup. "Told you. Works wonders," She pointed out again, before she took a swig of her tea.

The Doctor followed suit and took a rather larger gulp of milk this time, sighing contentedly as the warm liquid trickled down his sore throat. For the first time since crawling out from his hidey-hole, he looked up and locked gazes with Clara. "Your gran is a very wise woman."

Clara smiled at him. "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"

Seeing her expression, he gave her a half-smirk and turned his head again, letting the back of it rest against the console. A sudden sense of fatigue started spreading through his body and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to yawn.

Clara picked up on it. "You should really get some rest," she pointed out, giving him a long look. "Actually you should've gotten some rest ages ago, judging by the way you look."

The Doctor frowned, but kept his eyes shut. "Didn't you agree not to comment?"

"It is my civil duty as your carer to comment when you're being stupid," she informed him jokingly.

The Doctor gave a small, amused huff. "You care so I don't have to?"

"Exactly," she responded and took another swig of her tea. Then she frowned. "As we already are on the subject of stupidity… Explain to me quickly why you thought it was a good idea to take the console apart when you already knew you had the flu?"

Another frown, then his eyes shot open a fraction. "I err…" The Doctor let his mouth hang open for a few seconds, while he thought of a good response. There wasn't one. "Well, to be honest I didn't think it would progress that fast. So, I thought I could get some maintenance work done before it really hit me," he explained. There was a short, embarrassed pause. "I think I might've overdone it a bit…"

Clara raised her eyebrows in agreement and nodded slowly. "You know, for all your cleverness when it comes to fighting monsters, you can be very short-sighted about your own health. And that's putting it mildly."

"Thank you for the input. I'll write it down," the Doctor responded sourly, while setting down his cup on the floor and then fiddling for something in his pocket. He pulled out a rather tattered handkerchief and managed to clasp it to his nose just before his head shot forward with a forceful sneeze.

"Bless you," Clara told him dutifully.

"Don't bother," the Doctor muttered, his voice muffled through the fabric, just before he sneezed again. Then he sagged forward with a frustrated grunt, seemingly giving up on any pretence that he might have been feeling better than he actually was. After resting his forehead on his knees for a moment, he straightened up again, a shiver running down his spine. Handkerchief still in his hand, he wrapped his arms around himself and took a shuddering breath. "This is so… undignified," he sighed, sending an icy glare up to the bookshelves, as if his misfortune had everything to do with their existence.

Clara took this as her cue. "Okay! Time for bed," she announced and got to her feet, putting her empty cup on the console and stretching out her hand to help the Doctor follow.

He eyed her palm for a moment, then turned his eyes up at her, going "Yes, mum," in an impressive display of sarcasm.

"Oi, use that tone on me again and you'll regret it."

"Oh yes, I bet I will," the Doctor agreed, nodding theatrically. But he finally accepted Clara's help and reached up to grab her hand. He felt quite weird upon standing up. Not exactly dizzy, but probably on the way there. Then, feeling his breath catch in his throat again, he turned away from Clara and caught another short coughing spasm in his sleeve.

"You know, I've just realised something," her voice piped up from behind him. "Am I runnin' into any danger of catching some sort of fatal alien bug from hangin' around you?"

The Doctor turned to face her, clearing his throat for the millionth time "Oh yes," he said gravely.

"O-kay…" Clara stated, frowning "You're joking… right?"

"No, absolutely not," the Doctor responded, shrugging. "I've decided to stay on earth because I desperately want to spread a deadly alien disease among the human race." He paused for effect, then gave Clara a pointed look. "Of course it's not contagious to you, Clara! I may be stupid sometimes, but I'm not that stupid!"

She sensed the familiar feeling of frustration creep up from inside her. Sometimes, she desperately wanted to punch him. "Well, sorry for askin' a perfectly reasonable question…" At least he still had his sarcasm, so things couldn't be that bad, could they? The moment he lost his terrible sense of humour, that's when she'd really start worrying.

"Anyway," she began again, just when the Doctor had settled against the console and let his eyes droop closed again. "You should get some rest, I have marking to do… So, I guess I'll head home now…" After a moment of uneasy silence, Clara settled down next to him and started drumming her fingers against the metal frame of the flight controls. "Are… you gonna be all right? On your own, I mean?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just because… well, I don't like to be alone when I'm ill, so I thought maybe you'd want some company too. Or, you know… in case anything went… wrong."

The Doctor sighed, opened his eyes and gave Clara a tired side-glance. Her facial expression was filled with worry. "It's not like it's anything deadly, Clara," he pointed out, trying to reassure her. "Just an ordinary flu virus. I'll be fine on my own. Probably sleep through most of it, the way I'm feeling right now…" at that, he sniffed and started rubbing his eyes again. "Go home and… do whatever you do when you're at home."

Clara smiled half-heartedly. "Mainly marking."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, Go home and… do that."

There was another long pause, in which Clara regarded the lean frame of the Doctor next to her. And the slightest hint of worry made itself known in her mind. She couldn't help it. She hated seeing her best friend like this and the last thing she wanted was for him to be left alone when he needed her. Not that he needed her, but… you never knew, did you?

She finally pulled herself together and turned towards the Doctor. "Look, just make sure you park the Tardis somewhere near the school, okay? So I can check up on you tomorrow during lunch break."

"Clara, I already told you–"

"Just to ease my mind. Please?"

For a brief moment, he glared at her. Until he was once again interrupted by his own coughing. "Fine. Fine," he managed after the spell had passed, "if it makes you feel any better, yes I will park near the school."

"Good…" Clara said, gaze wandering towards the Tardis doors. She started chewing on her bottom lip, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of her next words. She hadn't wanted to tell him about it just yet, but… better safe than sorry, right? "And it's not… Coal Hill. It's a new school. Started last week. I'll… text you the address."

As expected, the Doctor's eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise. "A new school?"

"Yes, well, oh. Look at the time! I really need to get going," she said quickly, her cheeks turning slightly more red as if she were embarrassed. "I'll just… put the cups back into the kitchen and leave you alone…"

The Doctor shrugged. "Don't bother, I'll drop them off myself. It's on the way."

"You sure?"

"Perfectly."

"Okay, then…" she let the words hang in the air, but didn't quite turn to leave just yet. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want him to be on his own right now. Not while he was ill.

But, picking up on her hesitation, the Doctor once again let out a sigh. "Clara, as nice as this little tea party is, I am very tired and you need to see to it that you do all your boring, human every-day-life things. And stop worrying. It's only a spot of flu. I've survived worse!"

Clara closed her eyes briefly, trying to force herself to calm down. He was right. It wasn't like he'd caught some sort of deadly infection or anything. It was just the flu. "You're right," she agreed, opening her eyes again. "Just… make sure you get better soon, okay? Or else. Consider yourself warned," she added, a smirk playing on her lips as she started walking towards the Tardis doors. "And don't forget: School. Tomorrow. I'll text you!"

"Yes, mum," the Doctor retorted again, amusement in his eyes.

"Doctor, stop calling me that!"

"I will, if you stop acting like that."

Clara gave him a narrow-eyed glance, before settling on an answer. "Fair enough," she said, with only some suspicion in her voice. Then she smirked, stepped outside and closed the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned against the Tardis' blue frame, taking a couple of deep breaths. She didn't entirely know where the uneasy feeling was coming from, but… no, she was probably just over-thinking things… She had a tendency to do that, especially concerning people who were close to her. She couldn't help it. Not after everything that had happened…

But he was the Doctor. He was going to be fine.

He was going to be fine…

Well, that was it for chapter one! Hope you liked it! :)

Would be awesome if you could leave a review and tell me what you thought about it. And don't hesitate to tell me if you have any ideas concerning the next couple of chapters!

(Also, I'm still working on one other prompt but I'll gladly take more, if you have any ideas you want to get rid of! ;) Be that sickfic or any other thing that tickles your fancy. I only write platonic relationship stuff though. But that doesn't mean it can't be fluffy and sweet. Two words: Friendship feels!)