AN: set whenever. John gets sick and Sherlock takes care of him.

Warning: absolutely nothing to warn you about!

Pairings: Sherlock/John (they are cannon anyway!)

Disclaimer: I wish I owned these precious characters but I just use them for my own enjoyment

"John, go to bed. You're running a fever." Sherlock stated from his chair where he didn't look up from his book.

"What?" John asked startled. "I feel fine."

Sherlock looked up and narrowed his eyes at his friend. "You won't in a few hours. I advise bed rest and a wet flannel on your forehead."

John scoffed and grabbed his coat.

"I'm going to go and get the shopping unless you want to starve tonight." John said before closing the door behind him.

"I'm not hungry." Sherlock muttered to himself.

John returned half an hour later laden with heavy bags of shopping.

"Sit down. I'll put this stuff away." Sherlock said and he practically bounded towards John from his seat.

"You'll put this stuff away, will you?" John laughed sarcastically.

"You sit down and I'll fix you some soup." Sherlock told him as he bustled around the kitchen putting things away in their designated cupboards.

"I brought chicken so we could have a roast." John spoke before Sherlock took his arm and shoved him into Sherlock's favourite seat.

"You'll thank me for it later." Sherlock snapped slightly and went back to heating soup and putting food away.

Sherlock watching John eating his soup without much enthusiasm from where he lay spread out on the couch.

"You should get an early night." Sherlock said.

"I may as well," John yawned and got to his feet stretching before heading to the bedroom.

John peeled off his clothes before flopping face first into his pillow feeling to hot to put his pyjamas on. He soon fell into a restless sleep.

Sherlock followed John into the room shortly after and smiled when he saw John sleeping; his eyes moving behind his lids as he dreamt. He pulled on some sleeping pants and a clean top before climbing carefully into bed so as not to disturb John. He wrapped his arms gently around John and frowned when he felt the slight heat radiating off him. Sherlock decided to let John try and fight the fever himself and he to fell asleep.

Sherlock woke the next morning and tried to figure out what had woken him. He looked over to see John moaning and a look of pain etched on his face. John was tossing and turning, trapped within his own head.

Sherlock's hand ran across John's forehead and he noticed how his temperature had risen considerably since the night before.

"John?" Sherlock shook John's shoulder but failed at waking him. There was only one thing for it.

Sherlock hurried into the bathroom and switched on the cold tap. He then sprinted into the kitchen and yanked the door of the freezer open. He spotted the box of ice cubes at the bottom and dumped all of them in the bath. He then took the thermometer from the first aid kit and stuck it in John's mouth. His temperature was 101 and still climbing.

When the bath was full, Sherlock shut off the water before carrying John into the bathroom in a bridal style. He carefully laid John down in the icy bath and placed a hand on his chest to stop him from sinking beneath the water.

Sherlock placed the thermometer back in John's mouth and breathed a sigh a relief as the temperature began to go down.

When the temperature reached 98, Sherlock hauled John out of the bath, dried him carefully with and towel and laid him down on the bed again. He went back to the freezer and took out several ice packs which he placed around John body. He also wrapped another in a flannel and dabbed it over John's face.

John's eyes fluttered open when his temperature reached 96. He gazed up to see Sherlock staring down at him with love and worry in his eyes.

"What happened?" He asked in a tired, dry voice.

"You had a fever." Sherlock informed and handed John a glass of water. "Maybe you will listen to me next time whether you feel ill or not."

"Sorry," John apologised.

Sherlock smiled a leant in to place a soft kiss on John's lips.

"Thank you." John croaked and his eyes slid closed again.

"It's okay, John." Sherlock ginned and ran and hand through John's hair. "I'll always look after you."