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"Watson!" Sherlock burst into her room and began rummaging through her closet. "Time to get up; we have a new case." He spotted a plaid shirt with a dark red cardigan. He held them up for her to see. "Put these on." He placed them on the bed and went to her dresser to rummage through there too. He tossed a pair of blue jeans on her bed and began to leave the room when the sound of a sneeze stopped him. He turned on his heel and made his way over to Joan's bed-side. She was breathing heavily and looked extremely pale. "Watson?" He asked with concern in his voice.
Joan coughed and looked up at him wearily. "I don't feel well, Sherlock." She replied stuffily.
"You're sick." He stated.
Joan nodded and her hand rose to her head. She closed her eyes and winced. "My head is pounding, my nose is stuffy, and I can't stop coughing or sneezing." As if on cue, she coughed followed by a strong sneeze. Joan groaned in defeat. She never got sick, never.
Sherlock turned and left without a sound.
Joan watched him leave and sighed. "He's mad." She spoke to nobody in particular. Joan knew it was crazy to think he was mad at her for getting sick but she knew Sherlock could get upset by anything. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pounding in her head. When it became unbearable, she inched her body to the edge of the bed so she could get up and get some aspirin. She slid slowly off the bed and took a deep breath. Joan straightened up and got to her feet. She used the nightstand by her bed to steady herself and prevent herself from falling over or collapsing. The ex-surgeon reached for her robe that was hanging on the wall hook and put it on. She trudged her way to the staircase and stood at the top. Her head spun and she gripped the railing so she didn't tumble down the stairs.
"Damn Sherlock for putting the aspirin in the downstairs bathroom." She muttered to herself. Joan gripped the railing tightly as she slowly descended the stairs to get to the main floor of the Brownstone. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and prepared herself for the second flight to get to the bottom floor. She gripped the railing and began to descend when a noise startled her. Joan spun around and made her way to the source of the noise.
Joan entered the kitchen through the archway and stopped one step into the room.
Sherlock was hunched over the stove stirring something in a large pot. He didn't notice her until he dropped the oven mitt on the ground and crouched down to get it. "Watson, what are you doing out of bed?" He straighten up and placed the mitt on the counter.
"I came down to get some aspirin…" She walked towards him while she tightened the robe around her. She stopped 5 feet away and glanced at the boiling pot of soup. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like, Watson? I'm making you some soup." He stole a sideways glance at her and smiled.
Her lips parted to reply but she didn't know what to say. Sherlock must've sensed it because he left the room and returned after a short moment.
He held out a small pill bottle to her and smiled. "Here. Now, go back to bed; the soup is almost ready."
She took the pill bottle and turned to head towards her room. Joan stumbled and used the wall to steady herself. Before she could walk any farther, she felt Sherlock place a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, curious.
"Dizzy?" Sherlock was still smiling. Not at her pain but out of sympathy for her.
Joan nodded and Sherlock offered her his arm. She linked her arm with his and used her other hand to hold onto his bicep. Joan rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder, hoping the pounding in her head would cease. They slowly made their way back to the stairs and Sherlock patiently helped her up the stairs. He directed her towards her room and unlinked his arm from hers. He went behind her and helped her strip her robe off before placing it back on the wall hook. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took her hand. She lowered herself on her bed with his help and placed her head softly on the pillow.
When Joan was safely in bed, Sherlock made his way back to the kitchen to fetch her bowl of soup and a glass of water for the aspirin. He filled a glass full of water and ladled the soup into a bowl. He ascended the stairs with the soup plus the glass of water on a tray and strode into Joan's room, finding her still lying in the same spot as before. Sherlock made his way to the side of the bed and put the tray on the nightstand. He lifted a couple of the pillows around Watson and set them against the wall. He then helped Watson sit up and lean against the wall of pillows. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the tray to place it on her lap.
Joan opened the aspirin bottle and shook a couple of the small pills into her palm. She took the glass of water and gulped them down. Joan started to set the water down but Sherlock stopped her.
"Drink it all. It'll help." Sherlock gently pushed the water back up to her mouth.
She obeyed and drained the glass. She held the empty glass up for him to see. "Happy?"
Sherlock nodded toward the soup and she picked up the spoon. Joan dipped the spoon in and ladled some before bringing it to her lips. Joan blew softly and sipped it.
"How is it?" Sherlock fidgeted on the edge of Joan's bed.
"Good..." Joan smiled and sipped another spoonful. "Really good."
Sherlock smiled in reply. He silently watched her eat.
Joan looked up at him and noticed him blush.
"Sorry…I'll let you eat." Sherlock stood and turned to leave.
"No, its okay…It's just, I thought you had a case that needed solving." Joan felt bad that she had made him feel uncomfortable.
Sherlock turned and smiled. "It can wait."
"Are you sure? I don't want to make you feel like you need to stay and take care of me…" Joan started.
"I know I don't have to, I want to." Sherlock came and sat in the spot he was sitting in before.
"Really?" She brought the bowl to her lips and gulped the last of the liquid down. When the bowl was empty, she placed it back on the tray and placed the tray on the nightstand.
"Yeah. You're my partner and partners take care of partners." He looked down at the bed sheets embarrassed.
She gently touched his wrist and he looked up with a smile. She replicated the smile as she gazed into his sparkling grey eyes. "I think you mean friends take care of friends."
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