A/N So I just thought this was kinda sweet. I am desperately trying to forget the misery that overcame the Johnlock fandom on Sunday (S4 03) So I just started writing a cute fic. Hope you all enjoy!!! Thanks soooo much for all of the reads and votes!!! really gives me confidence in my own writing!!! If you guys have any suggestions or requests just leave a comment and I will give it a shot! Love you all!! Enjoy <3

"John," There was panic in my flatmate's voice, "John get in here right now." I raced into the sitting room to find a very dishevelled Sherlock sprawled across the sofa. The tip of his nose was red and his cheeks were flushed, making him look embarrassed and flustered. I studied the lanky man for a moment, trying to figure out what was wrong. All the signs pointed to him being sick, but I had never seen him ill before. The worst Sherlock ever got was a slight headache. "I am dying John." His statement was so outrageous I couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up from my throat. He shot me a glare and swung himself from the sofa in an attempt to stand. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet before crashing to the floor in a mess tangled limbs and fabric. Concern flooded my mind as I ran over to make sure he was ok. I pulled him back up to the couch and gently pressed my hand against his forehead, his skin was burning to the touch and I could feel him shivering beneath me.

"Well I don't think you are dying, but you definitely have a fever at the least." I grabbed his legs and shifted them onto the sofa, grabbing a blanket and draping it over my friend. I slipped into army-doctor mode without even thinking and went hunting for a thermometer. I finally found one that hadn't been used in one of his ridiculous experiments. I also grabbed another blanket from his room as I made my way back to the sitting room. Sherlock was on the floor again, mumbling incoherently. I grabbed him and forced him back on the furniture, ignoring the sounds of protest that came from the weak man.

"John, John I am fine." He mumbled, trying to push away my hands as I placed the blankets over him again.

"A moment ago you were insisting you were dying."

"Well I'm not now!" I flinched as his fingers nearly caught my face. I grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms above his head. He was weak enough that I had no issue containing him.

"Sherlock, you have a fever and I am trying to help you break the damn thing. Now for god's sake just sit still and let me help you!" I felt Sherlock tense beneath my grip as we sat there for a moment, our faces only inches from each other. I rearranged my grip on his hands so I held both of his thin wrists in one of my hands.

"Yes sir, Doctor Watson." Sherlock's voice had deepened into a low growl and he wriggled beneath me, a mischievous smirk on his lips. I glared at him and used my free hand to grab the thermometer. I pressed the device against his lip, expecting to have to fight with him. I was wrong. He parted his lips and used his tongue to pull it in. I swallowed heavily as I watched him, still very aware of how close we were. He maintained eye contact as the device did its job, that smirk never leaving his face. We had been living together for a while now and I knew there was no way he didn't know how I felt about him. The thermometer beeped and I pulled it out, feeling resistance as Sherlock caught it between his teeth briefly before releasing it. He was teasing me and it was working.

"Sherlock, your fever is way too high. If it doesn't break in an hour I am taking you to Emergency." I made sure my tone left no room for argument.

"I like this John." Sherlock's words were slurred and he had a pleased smile on his face. "This John is attractive, spouting orders and all the confidence in the world. It's sexy." I felt a giddy smile cross my lips. I knew he liked it when I pulled rank, but I always assumed that it was because it came in handy. "I also enjoy how, physical this John tends to be." He squirmed underneath me, his words and actions pulling a deep blush across my face. He wasn't wrong, I can remember several times I have slipped into army doctor mode and gotten a bit aggressive, grabbing his hands to assist me with an injured young man or what-not. There really was no need for it; I just enjoyed the feel of his skin.

"Sherlock, stop talking,"

"Why my dearest John, I thought you like it when I flirt with you?" I had to steel my nerves, reminding myself that he was sick and delirious.

"Sherlock-" He fought against my grip, letting out a childish whine when he couldn't break free. "Sherlock that's enough, you need to sleep and I can't stay like this all day." He suddenly lifted his head so his mouth was next to my ear and I felt his breath passing lightly over my skin.

"What if I want you to stay like this?" His whisper was deep and rough and it made the desire I was fighting tighten in my stomach. His pupils were blown wide and I could feel his erratic pulse in his wrist.

"I will make you a deal," My own voice had gone deep and rough on me as well, "You sleep off this fever, and when you are feeling better, if you still want me, I will pin you down and do whatever you want me to." There was a pretty good chance he would have no memory of this and I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship by obliging his wishes right now. He nodded and relaxed, eyes drifting closed as his movements stilled. I hesitantly released his wrists as I felt his pulse slow. Soon enough he was sleeping peacefully. I felt his forehead once more before standing and heading for the kitchen and making myself a cup of tea. I nervously watched the clock, waiting as the minute hand slowly made its way around.

An hour had passed and Sherlock's fever had broken. I felt comfortable leaving him so I headed to the store. We were out of a few things and I was too stressed to just hang around the flat anymore. My mind kept spinning, focusing on what would happen when he woke up. Would he remember? I knew he most likely wouldn't be able to retain anything, but there was no harm in hoping. I paid for the items and headed back, nervously playing with my keys as I walked. I made it to the door and hesitated. Eventually I made my way upstairs, glancing at the still sleeping man before heading into the kitchen and putting away the groceries.

"John, are you home yet?" I heard Sherlock croak from the sitting room. I raced in to check on him.

"Yeah, I'm here." I sat beside him on the sofa and pressed my hand against his forehead, checking his temperature against my own skin. He felt slightly warm, but that was probably due to the fact that he was currently wrapped in three blankets. "How are you feeling?" I wiped a wet curl from his forehead and reached for his wrist to check his pulse. There was no need for it, but the doctor in me was insisting.

"Much better, thank you," My fingers pressed against the skin of his wrist to feel his heartbeat. I could feel it speed up under my touch. He never liked being touched, that would explain it perfectly, but my mind flashed back to his words and actions from his fever. I glanced up and our eyes met.

"Sherlock," he nodded slightly, acknowledging my words. "Do you remember anything from before?" I prayed that his brilliant mind had somehow retained the information. His cheeks darkened and he averted his eyes as he nodded, just the slightest movement. I felt my stomach tighten. "Did you mean any of it?" He caught my eyes, uncertainty mingling with the slightest hint of need.

"Yes sir, Doctor Watson." His voice dropped, but I could still make out the slightest quiver. "Did you mean what you said?" I felt a blush creep up my neck. I wrapped my fingers tightly around his wrist and quickly pinned his arm above his head, using my free hand to grab his other wrist and move it next to the other. He gasped at the suddenness of the action and I felt his pulse increase. I leaned down so my lips just barely brushed against his ear.

"What would you have me do Mr. Holmes?" I whispered, fighting to keep my voice steady. He let out a small moan and squirmed against me. He was still rather weak which made it easy for me to keep him pinned there. I wanted nothing more than to take him as far as he was willing to go, but the doctor in me was screaming at me, reminding me that Sherlock was not well and needed to rest. I pressed kisses along his jawline, gently sucking and nipping at the skin there, pulling soft sounds from the man beneath me. I made my way to his lips and pressed mine against his. I kept the kiss light, using my position above him to tease.

"John," his voice was breathy and soft and the movement of his lips drove me up the wall.

"Yes, love?" I hadn't meant to call him love, but he didn't seem to notice.

"John, please-" I ran my teeth along his collarbone, causing him to cut off his own words with a gasp. I smiled against his pale skin.

"What do want Sherlock? What can I do for you? Or should I say, what can I do to you?" He squirmed against me, trying desperately to break free of my grip. His strength was starting to return, but I was still strong enough to contain him. I shifted my grip so both of his wrists were in one of my hands. I used my free hand to start to slowly unbutton his shirt, sliding my fingers lightly along the sensitive skin. Sherlock started to cough violently and I immediately released him. He sat up as his chest was wracked with spasms. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and a spoonful of honey. I always found the sweet syrup soothed a cough for me. I made my way back to the sofa, handing Sherlock the cup and spoon.

"What is this?"

"It is honey, it will help soothe the cough." I expected him to object, but he just nodded and ate the amber liquid. He lay back down, looking more miserable than ever. I stood, gripping his wrist and pulling him along. He tried to object, but I drug him along. "You need rest. I am going to put you to bed." The doctor in me was listing off everything that could be wrong with my friend and it was starting to stress me out. I lead my weak friend to his bedroom, helping him remove his shirt and trousers before forcing him onto the bed. Any desire I had been feeling before had been cut short by his coughing fit, though he wasn't feeling the same. I had to fight off his wandering hands as I got him under the covers.

"Sherlock, you need to sleep. You are too sick." He stilled at those words, looking rather defeated as he nodded. "I will come back and check on you in a little bit ok?" I ran my fingers along his forehead and cheekbones. I started to stand, but I felt a gentle hand on my elbow and stopped, looking back down at the ill man under the blankets.

"Stay." His voice was soft and timid and he looked embarrassed to be asking. I smiled and nodded motioning for him to make room. I was about to crawl under the covers when I hesitated. I pulled off my shirt and trousers, causing him to grin mischievously. I swatted at his chest as I made myself comfy, letting him rest his head on my chest and pulling him close.

"I can't believe you gave in that easily." I mumbled into his hair as I placed gentle kisses in the tangled locks.

"Only a fool would ignore his doctor." He smiledup at me, reaching up for another kiss. He rested his head back on my chest andlightly traced patterns on my chest. Soon enough we both drifted into peacefulsleep, holding each other tight.