This is a 'Thank You' oneshot for all of you who've favourited, followed and/or reviewed my collection 'Text Message'.

We've reached over 200 reviews! This has never happened to me before and I would just like to say how appreciative I really am. Thank you so so much. Have some fluffy Johnlock as a gift. =)

-sparrowismyhummingbird

Gentle

'Sherlock, stop it.' John sighed, repositioning the flannel on Sherlock's forehead. 'I told you to lie still.'

'How can I lie still when my brain won't shut off, John? It's buzzing. Full of questions, information, images. I can't lie still with all that going on.'
'Well can you try shutting up?' John suggested and chuckled lightly at Sherlock's offended frown.

The doctor lifted a hand to the detective's cheek and stroked it soothingly. Sherlock closed his eyes at the touch, somehow it was providing the comfort needed to stem the flow of activity in his brain. John continued his gentle motions back and forth across Sherlock's cheek with the back of his knuckles before travelling down and resting his hand on Sherlock's neck.

'Still got a fever.' He tutted and shook his head. Sherlock opened his eyes again and John brushed a stray curl from his sweaty forehead. 'How're you feeling?'

'My ears are still ringing, my head's woozy but not painful any longer and I'm not shivering as much.' Sherlock replied in a bored baritone.

'Do you want me to leave you to sleep?' John asked, opening Sherlock's shirt collar a little more to try and cool him. The detective had refused to change into his pyjamas and was only persuaded to actually stop working and lie down once John had promised him a week's worth of 'experiment allowance'.

'No.' was Sherlock's simple reply. 'Your company refrains me from getting bored.'

'Why's that?' John turned to the bedside table and checked his watch in accordance to the clock there. 3 more minutes before Sherlock was due another dose of anti-inflammatory pill.

'Because, you're someone to talk to and you actually reply which is more than can be said for the skull. And, you're a doctor which means you've grown relatively immune to most common colds and fevers enough for me to do this.' Sherlock reached up and pulled John down to his lips. The blogger kissed back happily, quite unphased by Sherlock's current health state. The detective was right, of course, as a doctor, John had been witness to enough common illnesses so that his body grew accustomed and therefore somewhat immune to them. Meaning a kiss from his Sherlock wouldn't cause a contract of any illness the detective had.

John pulled back but Sherlock's grip on his jumper didn't loosen at all, keeping them almost nose to nose. He stared into Sherlock's blue-green irises and smiled. Sherlock deduced his blogger, eyes flicking all over his face before he pulled him down once again.

'Alright, alright.' John said after pulling back. 'There'll be enough time for that once you're fit and healthy again. But at the moment you need to take two more tablets, Sherlock.'

John tipped two pills out of the bottle and handed them to the detective along with a glass of water.
Sherlock took them without a word and swallowed with a grimace. The flannel had fallen beside his head at some point while they were busy with each others lips and John reached over to grab it.

Sherlock however, had decided at that moment to lift his head and nuzzle John's hand.

John almost laughed but kept it as an amused chuckled, leaving the flannel discarded and instead focussing his attention back on lightly grazing Sherlock's cheek with his knuckles. It was something a child would find soothing and this thought made John's stomach clench. Obviously Sherlock had been shown very little affection when he was younger and now John was making up for it. His chest swelled and he leaned down to press a kiss to each of Sherlock's closed eyelids.

'M'tired, John.' Sherlock murmured. 'But don't...stop.'

John smiled warmly at his detective.

'Course not, Sherlock.' He remained there, stroking gently, until he too felt his eyelids drooping.

Mrs Hudson found them roughly 15 minutes later. John lay slumped forward on the bed. His head rested on Sherlock's torso; rising and falling with each slumbered breathe the detective took.

His hand rested, gently but stilled, against Sherlock's cheek.