I'm Not Sick!

I would like to dedicate this story to two very special people. First, to Rena Anne A Dale Holmes for being an awesome person and friend. You're a great writer so don't stop now! Second, to oLabyrintho for everything she has done for me. These are the two best little sisters a big sister could hope to adopt. I love you guys!

I was miserable. Not only had I just spent the entire night and a good portion of the morning scouting London for my targets next possible hit but, as fortune would have it, she decided to make me her fool and unleash one of the worst storms London had seen in years. By the time I arrived back at 221B Baker St. I was drenched to the bone. It had started raining a little while after I had left to do my recon and, as of now, showed no signs of letting up.

I opened the door and stepped into the blessed warmth that waited for me. So relieved I was to be out of the rain that I stood in front of the now closed door for a good two minutes as I felt the warmth return to my body and seep through my bones.

I closed my eyes and listened to the activity of the house. I could hear Nanny in the kitchen doubtlessly making something warm to fill both Watson and my gullets. Overhead I heard the creaking of Watson in his office. A second heavier creaking told me he was with a patient. Now my focus was drawn to a small sound that seemed to be originating from me. It sounded like the smallest of thuds hitting the carpet around me. Realizing what it is I snap my eyes open to find a small puddle of rainwater forming around me.

Not wanting to get caught by Nanny and given one of her 'lectures' I beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. I stopped by the bathroom to grab a towel before locking myself into my room. My clothes are so wet that they have become a second skin. I set about the task of peeling off my clothes and drying myself off. When I'm finally dry and in warm clean clothes, I set myself back on my bed. Wanting nothing more than to crawl under my covers and sleep of a month, I know I have work to do.

So again tuning myself into the sounds of the house. Watson still with his patient and judging by the length of time and tone of their voices, he was seeing the hypochondriac. I swear the man thinks he has the black plague and every time he develops a new symptom comes running to Watson and Watson being, well Watson, never turns him away. The rest of the Watson's colleague doctors refuse to see the poor wretch and when once I broached the subject about Watson seeing him, he gently reminded me that everyone gets sick. That's what makes him such a great doctor, and such a great friend.

I listen for Nanny and hope that she has not come out to investigate my reappearance. Since I don't hear any yelling I take that as a good sign and decide that it's safe for me to make a run for my study.

I open the door a creak and peak out. The door to Watson's office is closed. As sly as a panther I slide out of my room, down the hall, and into my study closing the door without so much as a sound. Now that that is over with I need to start a fire as it is freezing in here.

Just as I'm getting up from doing said job a strange thing happens. My nose starts to tickle. I try my hardest to ignore it, but it keeps growing. Suddenly I erupt into a sneezing fit. By the time it stops I notice that the voices in the other room have become quite. Damn! Now Watson will think I'm sick or something. Just as I hear his office door open, a rather loud set of footsteps starts up the stairs. I let out a huge groan. I am going to get an earful from both of them! But my disappointment quickly disappears as I'm seized with another sneezing fit. When I regain my composer I realizes that the footsteps have stopped and been replaced by voices. Oh great, Watson must REALLY think I'm sick to stop Nanny while is on the warpath. I am not sick. I refuse to be sick. A cough catches me unaware. It's a deep bone rattling cough that can only mean I'm sick. But I am not sick! I refuse to be sick!

My study door flies open and frames, in the doorway, a rather peeved looking Watson. "You're sick." He states. "Well hello to you too Watson. How are you? I've had a rather long night working on our case. You remember our case? The one about the thieves who seem to be striking at random places all around London? Of course you do." I state with just a bit too much condescension in my voice. Again, fate decides to make fun of me and sends another sneezing fit just as I finish. Watson, still framed by the door, repeats more testily "You're sick." To which I reply even more strongly, "No I'm not." Even I roll my eyes at such childish behavior. But I continue, "Its just allergies." Watson finally walks in and closes the door. "Allergies? Since when are you allergic to anything?" He asks. I glance around the room quickly trying to think of something that could possibly be an annoyance to my sinus, when my eyes fall on Gladstone. "Gladstone." I state rather proudly. Watsons eyes widen as he takes a long look at me than gazes at the dog. "Gladstone?" He asks, not believing me for a minute. "Yes." I say. "I have been allergic to him for quite sometime but didn't want to say anything because I know how much you love him." The dog, perhaps sensing it is now the center of attention, sits up and stares at me. "Really?" Asks Watson flatly. "Yes." I reply adamantly. "And the cough?" He asks, looking over his glasses. " I, uh, swallowed a bug." His stare could have frozen the devil in place. Not knowing what else to do I look at Gladstone. Even he seems to be smirking at me. I glare at him till he flops back onto his side, only to return to Watson's stare. "You're sick." He once again states quietly. "No, I'm not." I state rather annoyed. As luck would have it Watsons patient sticks his head inside the studies door to inform Watson that he now has sneezes and coughing to add to his list. With his back to the man he rolls his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of annoyance. He puts a smile on his face and turns around to take the man back to his office.

I look at Gladstone and say, "I'm not sick." He yawns. I head over to the couch to do some 'thinking'. When I arrive I quickly flop down and start to fall asleep, only to be awoken by a coughing fit. "Bloody Hell" I mumble to Gladstone. "I'm sick."

Well that's it for this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!