Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used in this story...nor do I profit from them...we just have a little fun!

He never thought he would ever say the words that just spilled out of his mouth before he had had time to consider them. By the looks on everyone's faces they hadn't thought he would ever say them either.

In fact, Donovan walked up to him, a look of shock on her face, and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead with a kind of pitying solicitude.

"God Anderson, are you feeling alright?"

There was a snicker from just outside the doorway, but then an expectant hush had fallen over the crime scene.

"Should you be here Anderson?" Lestrade's voice was brusque, business like. "I'm sure one of your colleagues can cover for you if you need to go."

"No…. I…." Anderson stammered, looking dumbfounded. "What?"

"He's not running a temperature Sir, but I suppose…" Donovan tried to hide her smile as she spoke.

"Doesn't mean a thing Sergeant Donovan; there are plenty of conditions where the patient is contagious before there are outward signs of illness."

Sally moved quickly away, and there was also a noticeable movement from his fellow forensics officers to put more space between him and them.

Anderson threw up his hands in despair.

"Jesus Christ! You'd think I committed this murder!" he muttered. "All I said was I wish we could have Sherlock back!"