This is just a random little oneshot that came to me a few nights ago that just wouldn't leave me alone, so I thought I would exercise those writing muscles and get writing! :D Apologies as it is very crap although I might have just read it one too many times and as such have become de-sensitized to its awesomeness (yeah, right) Anyway let me know what you think, reviews make my life! :D

I know absolutely jack squat about the medical stuff, so please don't shoot me in the foot if some things don't add up :P

I DONT OWN ANYTHING (APART FROM MY UNHEALTHY OBSESSION WITH ALL THINGS SHERLOCK) AND NO PROFIT IS BEING MADE OUT OF THIS. PROPERTY OF MARK, STEPHEN AND OBVIOUSLY SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. :D

Sherlock was ill. Seriously ill. John barely had time to register his best friend and flatmate's return to their flat before he collapsed and started violently fitting on the living room floor.

"J...J...John...oh god John... help me"

Before he could even process what was happening, John was on the floor in a flash beside his friend, taking Sherlock's cold, outstretched hand, hoping to offer a small measure of comfort as Sherlock writhed and sputtered in what looked like pure agony. John's eyes were wide with shock and fear as he watched his best friend convulsing, his mind going utterly blank, desperately trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

"Sherlock...what the hell happened to you?"

Grabbing Sherlock's head to prevent it from bouncing on the floor as it was currently doing, he finally found his voice. Sherlock gave no response as John found himself unconsciously slipping into the familiar doctor mode he was so accustomed to, taking in the shaking body and clammy skin, the sweat beaded forehead, the soft but agonized moaning coming from Sherlock as he lay there on his back, eyes fluttering closed, his head moving from side to side as his whole body spasmed in response to the poison. John held Sherlock's head steady with one hand and ran his hands over Sherlock's body with the other, hoping to find something that would shed some light on this recent alarming turn of events. Of course, he found nothing. Sherlock's moaning suddenly increased to a loud wail, his eyes shot open as his hands clasped around his stomach desperately trying to stop this terrible, terrible pain. At that moment all the doctor's training flew out of his head and John Watson started to get scared. He moved Sherlock onto his side in an effort to ease the pain, but all that did was make Sherlock wail even louder.

"Oh god... oh god john... I think... I think i'm dying. John please –" Sherlock broke off as his breath started to come in ragged gasps, as if his lungs had suddenly decided to stop working, his face going a deep red with the effort of trying to force air into them.

'oh god.. oh god... what the hell do I do?' john's mind was screaming at him to do something, just spring into action and do something, anything. It was at this point that john realized Sherlock was now starting to hyperventilate, hi s shock and fear rapidly rising up a notch.

"It's ok Sherlock... it's ok... just, just try and breathe"

John knew it was a pathetic, cliché answer but it was like he was numb, like he was watching the scene unfold from far away. He started mentally going through possible causes of Sherlock's illness. Had he picked up a bug from somewhere? He was always dicing with danger playing around with all those exotic illnesses. Doing his stupid experiments. But he was always so careful, and he hadn't been anywhere near the lab in weeks. Drugs then? No, no definitely not. He and Mrs Hudson had made quite sure there was nothing like that in the flat anymore. So what then? John's mind zeroed in on the only plausible explanation. Poison. Yes of course, it had to be. But which one? Before he could even begin a mind-search of all the poisons he knew of, an entirely unintentional but well aimed kick from Sherlock shocked the doctor inside john into action.

He made a split second decision to disregard Sherlock's dislike of hospitals. "Don't worry Sherlock, everything's going to be ok" he said as he quickly wrenched his phone out of his pocket to phone an ambulance.

Sherlock grabbed his arm weakly "no john, no..." he stuttered out in between trying to drag in oxygen to aid his flagging body. "no hospitals...im ok – "

"How the bloody hell are you ok? You can't breathe Sherlock! You just said you were dying! You -"

"John..." Sherlock interrupted his frantic yelling, as even in this state, it was clear to him that john was panicking, and he couldn't allow that now that he had an idea that just might save his life.

"My room... top drawer"

"What? Sher-"

"My... my room John... antidote..." Sherlock said, his voice getting weaker and weaker as his eyes squeezed shut against the pain that seemed to be getting stronger by the second. That was all John needed to know as he took off like a shot towards Sherlock's room, practically ripping the drawer out and tipping all the contents out onto the perfectly made bed. His trained eyes immediately zoned in on a pack of syringes and a bottle of clear liquid, grabbing these he ran back to the living room, making a quick detour and grabbing his medical kit on the way.

"Sherlock ive got it, I've got it!" he said breathlessly as he hastily knelt down next to his now near unconscious friend.

"Sherlock" he shook Sherlock's shoulders in an effort to keep him awake. He knew he had to keep him awake as it would be much easier for him to fight it if he was awake rather than unconscious, then the poison could really take hold. "Sherlock... c'mon Sherlock stay awake for me ok? Open your eyes for me, that's it Sherlock, that's it" he kept up a steady stream of nonsense as he unscrewed the cap on the vial of liquid and quickly inserted the needle in, pulling the top out until it had reached as high a dosage as he dared. As he didn't know what Sherlock had been poisoned with he was going on the last time he had to administer the antidote, that time being when a certain dominatrix had rendered the Great Sherlock Holmes incapable of even talking or standing on his own.

"Ok here we go, this will make you feel a lot better Sherlock, just try and hold still for me."

John had expertly found a vein, but was finding it difficult to actually inject the much needed antidote into Sherlock's body, as even though he was barely awake he was still convulsing and moaning in agony. It pained John to see his best friend in so much distress. Sherlock was still for a few seconds, John grabbing the opportunity to administer the antidote. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked over at his friends face, and, with a jolt of fear, realized why Sherlock had suddenly gone still. He was unconscious.

"Shit."

Let me know what you think guys! As I said before, reviews make my life! :D Might consider writing another chapter or two depending on how many reviews this gets of course (wink, wink).