A/N: For someone who's a little under the weather. Think of this as a virtual toll-house cookie!

FOR BEHOLD I BRING YOU . . .

by

Owlcroft

"Here's the Kleenex, and the cough drops." McCormick placed both items carefully on the side table next to the arm chair. "And I got you some more decongestant pills." Those he put on the coffee table next to the mug of cooling cocoa.

"Thrr-huh," was the response. Hardcastle cleared his throat and tried again. "Thanks," he muttered huskily.

Mark looked at him in sympathy. "No better? Fever down at all?"

The judge shook his head and dabbed at his nose with a tissue.

"Well," said McCormick, perching on the edge of the coffee table, "maybe this will make you feel better. I stopped by Mrs. McGillicuddy's to drop off those papers and she had a batch of spiced nuts for you. And Mattie sent over a cheese ball and crackers this morning." He cocked his head at the older man, currently indulging in a sneezing fit.

"How'd she know," croaked Hardcastle, "that I was sick?"

"It was probably not showing up for the poker game that was her first clue." Mark grinned at him. "Claudia had Frank take some fruitcake into the station this morning and Officer Perkins left it in the mailbox. Oh, and I got some eggnog at the store, with-" he waggled his eyebrows, " a bottle of brandy to put in it."

"Mm-hm," followed by a cough.

McCormick sighed, hands loosely clasped in front of him. He looked at the sick man consideringly. "I can put a tape in and you can watch "Stagecoach" or you can read the latest Creek and Stream. It's got an article about crappie fishing in it."

The judge waved a hand and shook his head, sniffling pathetically.

Another sigh from McCormick, then he threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, last offer. I can make toll-house cookies from that roll thing I got at the store. If you're feeling up to eating cookies?" That last was said in hopeful tones.

"Now," Hardcastle sniffed once more, then finished in a gravelly voice, "you're bakin'!"

finis