Visiting the Sick

[smallhobbit]

Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: Greg Lestrade, John Watson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 725
Summary: Written for pandabob1 who also wanted more John/Lestrade
A/N: This could be taken as a series of Visits, although this comes before Visiting John's Parents

“I thought you said you wouldn’t work with Dimmock again,” John said.

“It’s an interesting case, I’m bored and besides which Lestrade’s off sick,” Sherlock replied.

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“I’m a doctor remember.”

“He’s not that ill.”

“He’s living in on his own.  You’re not going to need me for the rest of today so I shall call round on him and see if there’s anything he needs.”

“In which case you might as well have this.  He got fed up with me picking his lock and gave me a door key.”

*****

Greg Lestrade was huddled up on his settee underneath a duvet when he heard knocking on the door.  He couldn’t be bothered to move and assumed that whoever it was would soon give up and go away.  Then he heard a key in the lock and saw the door open.

“Fuck off, Sherlock,” he croaked.  “I’m not sorting anything out for you.”

John came into the flat.  “It’s okay; it’s me, not Sherlock.”

“And I don’t need a doctor.”

“How about a mate with some milk and bread?”  John held up the carrier bag he had in his hand.

“In that case, thanks.”

John cast a professional eye over the invalid.  “I hope you’re keeping your fluid intake up.”

“Mmm.”

“Taken any pain killers lately?”

“Ran out this morning.”

“Just as well I bought some then.  I’ll give you a couple and then go and make a drink.  You don’t have any allergies do you?”

Greg took two of the tablets and waved in the general direction of the kitchen.  John went to put the kettle on.  “How does lemon and honey sound?”

“Ideal.  Reminds me of being ill as a kid.”

“The old remedies still work you know.”

John returned with two steaming mugs and passed one of them over to Greg, who was doing his best to disguise the muddle on the settee.  “Keep the duvet round you.  No point in getting cold.”

Greg curled up again on the settee and John sat in an armchair and described the latest visit they’d received from Mycroft and how the discussion about the arrangements for Christmas had rapidly deteriorated into whose fault it had been that the Christmas tree they’d had when Sherlock was six had caught fire.  After a while John asked Greg if he wanted something to eat.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Well, why don’t I make us both a sandwich?  You can eat as much or as little as you like.”

When John returned with the sandwiches he discovered that Greg had fallen asleep.  He looked at the sleeping man and smiled at the way the forceful and rather world-weary detective inspector looked much more vulnerable fast asleep on the settee.  John didn’t feel that he could abandon him, and had to admit to himself that he didn’t want to leave him, so he put the television back on and found a suitable Western to watch.

After a while he noticed that Greg’s duvet was slipping down, so he got up to replace it and began to tuck it carefully round his shoulders.  Then he saw a pair of brown eyes watching him.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

“’Sokay, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll just go and make another drink.”  John beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen.

Whilst he was boiling a kettle he heard Greg say “Ha.  They’re showing The Italian Job again.  The original version.”

“I haven’t seen that for ages.”

“Fancy watching it?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off,” they both chorused and then laughed.

When John returned carrying two mugs of tea he found that Greg had moved and there was now space on the settee.

“If you’re prepared to risk my germs,” Greg said, “you’d be welcome to sit next to me.”

John didn’t need a second invitation and willingly joined Greg on the settee.  They watched the film, huddled up together under Greg’s duvet, joining in with all the other lines they remembered.  When the film had finished Greg gave an enormous yawn.

“You should get to bed,” John said.

“You’d be welcome to stay.”

“Not this time, thank you.  You need your sleep and to get better.  And then I will be only too happy to stay.”