This is for lilsherlockian1975, her family has been unwell these passed few days :(

Hope this makes you smile Lil!

I wrote this in an email document (while I was at work ... shhhhh!) so please forgive any errors!

"Hamish!" Molly called out as she climbed the stairs. "Hamish, why aren't you up yet? You need to be getting ready for school!" She reached the bedroom door and knocked, knowing better than to just burst on in. The only answer she received to her knocking was a low whimper. "Hamish?" Ever so slowly she opened the door.

"Mummy!" her son's voice was a faint cry from beneath the coverlet; he was curled into a ball.

She approached the bed, gently laying her hand upon the lump that she had deduced was his back. "Hamish, what's wrong?"

He whimpered again. "My tummy!" he moaned. "It hurts a lot!"

She slowly rubbed her hand over his back, not too surprised to find out he was sick. It never failed to happen; it was always a common occurrence when he returned to his classes after the summer break.

"Sweetie, why don't you come out from under there so I can see you?" she said to him.

He let out another whimper but slowly crawled out from beneath the blanket. He peered out at her with glassy eyes, his faintly freckled cheeks, that were usually a rosy pink, were pale. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead, he was burning up. Suddenly his eyes widened in fright.

"I think I - I think I need to go to the loo!" He shot up from the bed and rushed from the room.

Molly followed him but waited outside, giving him his privacy. When he walked out a few minutes later, he was crying. She gathered him in her arms and he snuggled close as she carried him back to his bed.

"Does your tummy feel any better?" she asked, once she had laid him down and stretched out beside him.

He shook his head and she gently brushed back his damp hair. When he started to shiver she tucked his blanket around him.

"Do you want me to make you a cup of your favourite tea?" she asked.

He nodded his head, sniffling slightly.

"Ok. I'll be right back. And I'll see if Mrs. Hudson can make you some soup," she said to him as she gently sat up so as not to jostle the mattress. She gave his forehead a peck then left the room.

As soon as she got downstairs Molly took out her mobile and called Hamish's school, once that was done she called Mike to let him know she wouldn't be able to come to work. She decided to start making the tea before texting Sherlock. Once the kettle was getting ready to boil she sent off a quick text to Sherlock. His reply was almost immediate.

What do you mean Hamish is unwell? He was perfectly fine last night! Unwell as in how? I need details Molly, why are you being so vague? Do I need to come home? - SH

Molly shook her head and rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. She rather liked the fact that Sherlock was such a devoting and caring father, he had proved himself time and time again, silencing all of the naysayers (well ... somewhat).

He just has an upset stomach, Sherlock. No need to worry, I'm sure it's just a virus he picked up at school. - Mx

Oh. Does this mean you don't need me to come home? - SH

I always want you at home Sherlock, but there really is no need. He's resting in bed. - Mx

I should be done with this case within the hour. I'll have John come back with me so he can check him. - SH

All right. - Mx

Let me know if his condition changes. - SH

I will. - Mx

She pocketed her mobile and set about making the tea, all the while hearing the sound of Hamish's feet pattering to and fro to the loo. A few minutes later she returned upstairs. He was curled up in his bed once more, looking throughly miserable. She placed the tea on his beside table and sat down. He crawled onto her lap and she cradled him close. She sang quietly to him as he slowly drank his tea. When he was finished, and he had managed to do so without needing to rush off to the loo, she gently rocked him. He soon fell asleep.

After waiting several minutes, not wanting to disturb him until he was well asleep, she laid him back down and covered him with his blanket. She watched him for a little while, noting how peaceful he looked. In all honesty the little boy was a complete terror the majority of the time. And how could he not be with Sherlock Holmes as his father? There was never a dull moment with those two around; her big man-child and son. She placed a kiss upon the top of his head and quietly slipped from the room, closing the door behind her before making her way downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's.

"Martha?" Molly called out as she knocked on the elderly woman's door.

"Oh hello Molly dear, is something wrong? You're usually long gone by now!" Mrs. Hudson said to her after she had opened her door.

"Yes, Hamish is sick, he has an upset stomach," Molly explained.

"Oh the poor boy!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she brought her hand to her cheek.

"I was wondering if you possibly had anymore soup left, from the other day?"

They both walked into Mrs. Hudson's flat.

"Yes, I do. Oh I am so glad that I do. I'll heat some for him, and bring it up."

"Thank you so much. I better get back upstairs, I don't want him to wake and I not be there."

Molly returned to the flat, listening for any noise of movement from Hamish; all was quiet. After making herself a cup of tea she settled down in Sherlock's chair with the book she was currently reading. Some minutes later Mrs. Hudson came up with a small pot of her soup. She set it on the hob and put the heat on low.

"Is he still asleep?" she asked Molly as she stepped into the lounge.

"Yes, and I hope he'll sleep for awhile yet. I don't know how much he got last night."

"Sleep is usually the best medicine!"

Molly agreed with her, and just as Mrs. Hudson was leaving the flat Sherlock and John were entering it.

"How is he?" Sherlock asked, as he swept off his coat and scarf before he gave his wife a kiss hello.

"He was asleep when I left him, that was around twenty minutes ago," Molly answered.

"I'll just go have a look at him. John?"

The two men quietly ascended the stairs, returning minutes later.

"He's still fast asleep. Poor boy looks exhausted. Do you know at all how long he has been vomiting?" John said to her.

Molly shook her head. "I'm not sure, he might have been throughout the night, but I never heard anything."

"Do we need to be concerned?" Sherlock asked.

His friend fixed upon him a firm look, knowing how dramatic he could get when his child was unwell. "No Sherlock. I'm quite certain it's just a normal stomach virus. It should pass within a day or two." He turned to Molly. "Feel free to keep me updated."

She nodded. "I will."

The moment after John left, Sherlock pulled Molly into his arms. She pressed herself close up against him as he kissed her with fervour. She hummed against his lips.

"That's more like it!" she said to him.

He smiled down at her, but then frowned when he took note of her concerned expression. "What is it? he asked.

"Well it's just, virus' like this have a tendency to move from one person to the other. It's highly likely that your or I, or both of us, may become sick," she explained to him.

"Hmph. I never get sick!"

She shook her head. "You better watch out Sherlock, you may come to regret ever saying that!"

Two days later Hamish was feeling much better. Those two days had felt very long, his poor stomach doing quite a number on him. When Molly told him that he was well enough to return to school he was extremely disappointed. He liked being able to stay at home with mummy and daddy. Sherlock hadn't taken any new cases, instead staying at the flat to be near Hamish.

When the third day came, Molly woke feeling terrible. Her entire body ached and her stomach was churning. She hadn't been able to avoid the virus.

"You'll have to take Hamish to school," she groaned to Sherlock as he moved about their bedroom.

He sniffed. "Those ridiculous mother's better behave themselves. They were positively atrocious the last time I had to bring him."

Despite how awful Molly was feeling she couldn't help but giggle. "Just give them a couple of deductions, nothing too rude or horrid! That should shut them up." She ended her sentence with another groan.

Sherlock cautiously approached the bed. "I told you I never get sick."

She popped open one eye, and glared at him. "It may still get you yet!"

He humphed. "I better tell Mrs. Hudson to make more soup," he noted; that had been the only food that Hamish could keep in.

Molly moaned in agreement, pulling the sheet up over her head. Only for moments later to push it back and dash off of the bed, heading straight to the loo. Sherlock sighed as he slowly followed.

"It's like you being pregnant all over again," he noted.

Molly didn't respond until she had finished. "Please don't say that!" she wailed.

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the sink. "Why not? Don't you want another child?"

She wiped her face clean. "I don't know Sherlock, and now is really not the time for us to be discussing this!"

Sherlock switched off the light as he followed her back to the bed. "Fine. We'll talk about it when your better."

She made a noise of agreement as she got back onto the bed and re-covered herself with the blanket. Sherlock sat next to her, smoothing his hand over her forehead.

"I'll come straight back after I bring Hamish to school," he told her.

"You don't have to do that. I know Lestrade has a few cases for you!"

Sherlock dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to leave you home alone."

"Mmmfff, fine. I can't bring myself to argue with you!"

He smiled and gave her forehead a light peck before he stood.

The virus had taken Molly through the same course that Hamish had endured. And lo and behold, three days later Sherlock was the one groaning in bed.

"I thought you didn't get sick?" Molly teased.

He glared at her through narrow slits. "Shut up!" he growled out.

She only giggled as she handed him his tea.

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:)