This is just a little ficlet i wrote based off of a picture i saw on tumblr...

the caption was ""Sherlock, look at me. What did you take?"" and i went off of that. lol

"Sherlock, look at me. What did you take?"

His pupils are constricted, more so than usual. He is shaking, and there is a small stream of saliva leaking from his dry, cracked lips. Even without my doctor's knowledge it wouldn't be hard to tell he is poisoned. "What did you take?" I ask again so quiet that Sherlock probably didn't hear me; maybe i'm just asking myself the question.

"Experiment, John…" His words are slurred. "I wanted to test my new anti venom i made." He lifts his hand to show me a little white capsule, "See?"

"Sherlock…" I reach up to touch his face. Fever. High fever. "Sherlock, I don't think it's working very well."

"Obviously." His lips turn upward and his empty eye's squint into a grin. Oh, Sherlock. I can feel tears filling my eyes.

"I'll go call an ambulance." I leap off the bed only to feel long, boney fingers weakly hanging onto my jumper. I freeze.

"No," he tugs with little effort, or maybe as much effort as he can give. "I'm fine."

"Sherlock, you're not!" I practically yell. I don't move though, and I let the tears finally fall.

He chuckles, he cringes, "I'll be fine. I promise." I sit back down on the bed. Would he really? He always had a habit of performing magic tricks and miracles. But…

"You really did it this time, Sherlock." I choke out. He's only getting worse; there's no way he can be fine. But he's Sherlock, he has to be.

"Come now, John," His eyes are closed now. His fingers only barley hanging on now. "Do you really think I'd go and accidentally kill myself?"

Yes. But I don't say it out loud.

"Silly, John…" His breath is ragged and I can no longer feel his fingers clutching onto my Jumper. If it wasnt for the slow, uneven rising and falling of his chest I would have thought he was dead. "Stay with me though, would you? I'm quite cold." Without missing a beat I pull him into my arms and hold him thinking this would be last time I would hold him. Why did i not ever hold him like this? Was it because I thought I had forever? Well, that dream was gone now. I need to tell him.

"Sherlock I-" A bony finger presses against my lips shutting me up. A boost of energy? I loosen my grip and looked at my friend's face. He's grinning again.

"Save what you have to say till the morning." There wont be a morning for you. As if he can read my mind he moves in such a way that his forehead is pressing against me cheek. His fever is going away and he's no longer shaking. I sigh with so much relief. He is getting better. "I told you I'll be fine. Now shut up and let me sleep." Yeah, he's fine.

"You stupid git," I say with nothing other than compassion and affection. "Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Sherlock opens his eyes, "But its only when you're scared that you show such great affection. I like it. I want more." My heart skips a beat. He does these things just for a little affection? "I am human, John. A little affection and attention is always nice."

I smile, "I'll make sure to give it to you then." I hug him closer to my body, giving him my warmth and receiving his. "Now sleep, Sherlock. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

"You better be."