John rolled over on his stomach, his head weighing a thousand pounds, his eyes sore in his skull.
"Bughrhhg…" he groaned. This was not a way to wake up. "Sherlock…" He grumbled. "Sherlock!"
"Yes?" Sherlock appeared at the door, leaning on its frame.
"Could you please get Mrs. Hudson?"
"She's away." Sherlock crossed his arms. John groaned and rubbed his head.
"Could you make me some tea?"
"Because I'm bloody sick, that's why!" John sat up on his elbows, his head spinning as he faced Sherlock. "Please, just for this once could you make me some tea?"
"I… guess I could."
When Sherlock brought the tea up, he found that John had left his room, and was retching in the bathroom. He set the tray down on a table near the bed and stood in the doorway to the bathroom.
"The tea is ready." He said. John replied by heaving without anything coming up. He wiped his mouth with some toilet tissue and flushed the toilet. His fingers were shaking and he was very pale. He made his way to stand up, but fell over. Sherlock caught him and tried to help him to stand on his own again, but John couldn't do it.
"Don't baby me," he groaned.
"I'm not. I'm helping you stand on your own feet." Sherlock said, dropping John onto his bed and pulling the covers over John's body, tucking him in.
"Has it got honey?" John rubbed his forehead.
"Yes." Sherlock poured the tea and handed it to John. "Is there anything else you want me to do?"
"Probably." John said, sipping at the tea. "But you probably won't do anything."
"I'll do a little bit more than usual." Sherlock shrugged. "Not much, but a little."
"I'll call you." John yawned. "Thank you, Sherlock." he said tiredly. "You're the greatest for this."
"I'm the greatest for general reasons."
"Oh, shut up." John put the teacup down and nestled into the covers. Sherlock smiled and turned away.