John stirred when he heard the bathroom door close... Again. ‘Poor thing’ John thought, sliding out of bed, ‘that’s the fourth time today’. Sherlock had the flu, and a right nasty one at that. John had wondered for a moment if he should put a drip on Sherlock since the detective was often too weak to sit up and grab the water himself and John still had work. He went into Sherlock’s room to grab his mug and fill it with fresh water. Sherlock didn’t like anyone seeing him weak, not even his flatmate, so John waited until he was sure Sherlock wouldn’t mind John coming in to take care of him. Ninety seconds later, John heard the loo go and Sherlock slumping against the wall. Time to get the man and put him back in bed. John knocked on the bathroom door before sliding it open, trying to be careful not to hit Sherlock. He wordlessly handed the cup to Sherlock and sat down on the edge of the tub.
“Just kill me now.” Sherlock murmured