Repens

The worried boyfriend felt more useful taking care of the sick beauty in his bed than he had felt doing 97% of London's greatest mysteries. She had suddenly given him a true purpose. Many remembered him for his incredible intelligence but today he would be remembered because of something else entirely. He was becoming someone different but wasn't entirely sure if he could ever allow these changes to be permanent. He was going soft and soft wasn't allowed in his line of work.

"What are you doing?" she wearily giggled the moment he walked through the door.

"What does it look like? You're a clever girl. Deduce. You're not ill enough to cease using your brain," he crossly replied. Anyone else would think he was being cruel but the adoring girlfriend immediately recognized his banter.

She say up, prepared to take the medicine followed by the water. The cloth would certainly ease the burning sensation a bit but would be more of a nuisance than a help. The two had a silent agreement not to use their fantastic powers of deduction against eachother but she was already bored from spending the first fifteen minutes of her day sick in bed.

"Sherlock Holmes," she sighed in a lover's tone that felt strange even to her.

"What now?" he groaned while reading the label of the pill bottle.

"Look at you." The man paused to briefly stare at her with that single eyebrow raised. "Taking care of a helpless woman rather than being out and about doing what you do best."

"You're ill." The statement was uttered mater-of-factly but they both knew he was only saying the smallest fraction of what he was thinking.

"Yes. I'm also fully capable of taking care of myself as I've done for the last several years." She paused, a smile growing on her face just before she unleashed the real facts of the matter. "You're shoes are loosely tied- heart not set on leaving anytime soon? The growling of your stomach tells me you haven't eaten yet this morning so you're clearly not in a hurry of any kind, then again you eat like a bird any given day. In the few minutes I've been awake, you've hardly pressured John into finding a proper case for today which means you aren't very interested in work today and I have a pretty good idea of why. And you should know that I think it's foolish of you to stay home just to--"
She hadn't seen him pull the thermometer out of his pocket. It had been done too quickly. He immediately silenced her by slipping the thing between her lips as it beeped, coming alive to prove the severity of her illness. With thin lips, Stephanie crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Better," Sherlock said with an almost grin- glad to have silenced her so easily.

He left the room once more but she knew it was only a matter of minutes before his return. Until then, she listened to hear what was said in the livingroom. If she couldn't be in there, she still wanted to know what was being said- nosy thing.

"Any news?" The former doctor felt odd not taking care of the sick girl himself but he wasn't about to keep Sherlock from doing what he felt was necessary; attempting to stop the man would be mad.

"Taking her temperature now and we'll go from there," the tall comically focused man answered from the kitchen.

"So you're a medical man now?" He was trying quite hard to keep from giggling. This was all too entertaining not to watch.

Holmes' head popped out from the kitchen long enough to respond, "I've always been a medical man."

After a brief chuckle and a sideways nod of his head, John sighed, "No, you've always used science to solve cases. There's a difference between taking care of someone and figuring out how someone died."

"Are we out of milk?"

"I can ring Lestrade and see if he needs any help."

"No need to bother him. He calls when he needs help and if he doesn't need help he knows not to waste my time pretending he does." More noises came from the kitchen. "I can always tell the difference between the cases he genuinely needs me for and his petty charity crimes."

"Just keeping our options--"

"We're also out of beans," Sherlock announced while making his way back to the hall.

An irritated John threw his paper down and tried to remember where he left his keys. It was perfectly clear that he had two options: volunteering to go to the store now or being ordered to in another hour or so. He figured now was better than later since nothing was happening now. It was conversations like this that Watson had missed the years Sherlock had been gone.

"Going to the store then," the former soldier shouted down the hall. "Fine" was all he heard in reply. With a nod of happy disbelief, John left the flat, knowing that his best friend-the great Sherlock Holmes-was falling in love.

The moment he returned, Stephanie sighed, "Why did you laugh at me earlier?"

"I wasn't laughing at you- per say. I simply find you amusing when you are sick." He gave a wink that melted her heart and sent a quick chill through her tired body. If only she felt well enough to pull him down to her for a few snogs.

"You should be out on a case, not here playing governess."

"Governess? Much too Victorian. Nanny, perhaps. But I prefer temporary care giver- and by temporary, I mean only today."

"You still shouldn't be here."

"There weren't any good cases this morning."

"Any 'good cases'? Since when did they have to be good? I thought you were pleased with decent cases- mundane affairs Lestrade couldn't figure out."

"What was it?"

"It's fine," she smiled as if she suddenly felt better. After he gave her a cross glance, she sighed, "Just over a hundred and two. More than likely the flu. Certainly not mono or strep."

Instead of speaking, he sweetly put the chilled cloth on her forehead. The gesture nearly left her breathless. Little by little, he was becoming more romantic. Sherlock Holmes, the most curious closet romantic on the face of the planet. Steph motioned for him to lay next to her and he instantly obeyed, finding this the perfect opportunity for a bit of alone time. She put her head on his chest and he began to thoughtfully play with her hair.

"Sherlock, I need to tell you something important."

His mind immediately went to the three words he wasn't ready to hear. Not yet, at least.

"No," he whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "Not now. You're in no state for serious conversation."

"But it's important," she quietly argued.

"It can wait another day or two."

She snuggled close and gathered her words.

“Remember when you said you wouldn't do to me what you did to John?”

“What? Ask you to move in?” he managed with a straight face.

She gave him a quick small punch and made a whining noise. “Clever you,” the girl answered with sarcasm. “I mean disappear, fake your death, drop off the face of the planet.”

“I doubt there will ever be a cause to, dearest Cassidy,” he chuckled. “If ever such an occasion would rise again, you would know. That I can promise.”

She seemed content with this for a few silent moments until she asked, “Would you tell John?”
“Oh, my dear girl, are we really doing this today while you're slightly delusional?” he growled, pushing her off his chest, sitting up to better watch her darting eyes and defensive body language.

“Doing what? Asking a perfectly logical question?”

“That was hardly logical,” he slighted her.

“Try to be reasonable, Sherlock,” she loudly groaned while sitting up beside him. “You must see the signs. Something is about to happen!”

“What’s about to happen- a robbery at Baker Street? No one would dare!”

“Honestly, are you being this way for laughs? If so, it’s a horrible joke.” She was raising her voice at him now. He had never seen her so worked up over something so foolish.

“Maybe you should stay in bed a while longer. Sleep and get some rest.”

“Stop behaving like this!”

“Like what?” he challenged.

“Like you didn’t see the two men following us yesterday. Like you didn’t notice the same two men talking to eachother on their mobiles at the gallery. Like one of your enemies isn’t planning something big to get back at you for that clever stunt you pulled. Like someone isn’t possibly watching us right now from across the street.”

As she caught her breath he grinned, “So you did notice.” He seemed very pleased at her beneath his inquiring surprised expression. “Good. Very good. That's all the more I don't have to explain later.”

“You know I hate when you do that- acting like you don’t have the slightest clue what I’m going on about when I know good and well you do.”

“But look at all the time we saved not having to go over everything. I now know that you’re up to speed on everything and need next to nothing explained to you. And, just for your enjoyment, you got to yell at me a bit which surly made you feel slightly better.”

“To be completely honest, I dislike you sometimes,” she hissed, feeling a bit foolish and predictable, while falling back onto her pillow. She had imagined the day going a bit different.

“Not to worry. Most people do,” he smirked.

They silently sat side by side, arms crossed, without touching. She was still trying to cool off while he found himself very amused to say the least. This had become one of his favorite games to play with her- one she loathed entirely.

Sherlock moved his hand around in hopes of finding one of hers. When his fingers finally slid over the soft skin of her smaller warm hand she moved it to where he couldn't grab it again.

With another entertained grin he teasingly asked, “I suppose this means no snogging session?”

“Make one of your famous deductions, Mr. Holmes,” she replied in a most unpleasant tone, only increasing the size of his content smirk.

"Bloody hell!" She yelled before jumping out of bed. Steph threw the moist rag at his head, grabbed her slippers and his blue house robe, and marched down to her aunt's.