In Sickness and in Health

"Hey, Sherlock..."

Sherlock frowned. "What? What's wrong?"

John blinked slowly, still groggy from sleep.

He'd clearly already been awake before Sherlock had let himself into their flat, but he had recently woken up. Within the past... ten minutes, Sherlock rationalised, and the bags under his eyes and the tone of his voice meant nothing good.

"What's happened?" Sherlock probed.

From down the hallway drifted a sound that Sherlock wasn't accustomed to hearing in this flat: vomiting. He looked down the hallway and then to John. "Is Mary sick?"

John shook his head.

"The noises in your master bathroom say otherwise," Sherlock said, brushing past John and heading down the hall. He pulled his scarf away from his neck and shoved it in his pocket, pulling his gloves off one by one. "Mary?" He knocked twice on the bathroom door before opening it.

Mary glanced up tiredly from her position in front of the toilet, smiling weakly when she met Sherlock's gaze. "Morning, Sherlock... Bit early for you to be by, isn't it?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," Sherlock said distractedly, crouching down next to Mary. "Have you contracted a stomach illness? It's not really flu season yet." He pressed his hand to her forehead, feeling for any warmth and finding none.

Mary shook her head, reaching back to flush the toilet. "No, Sherlock. Morning sickness, remember?"

Sherlock sat back on his ankles. "Oh. Sorry. I keep forgetting."

Mary laughed, getting to her feet. "You keep forgetting I'm prone to bouts of vomiting when the vomiting was the thing that gave it away two months ago?"

"I've had other things on my mind," Sherlock murmured, helping her up. "Enlighten me... why does John bother to get up when you do if he doesn't bother to try and help?"

The smile melted away from Mary's face. "He just needs time, Sherlock."

"I know," Sherlock agreed. "But he doesn't really need to bother waking up if he's just going to stare at you."

"Subconsciously, he is worrying."

"He's a doctor. He's pre-programmed to."

Mary nodded, turning off the tap and drying her hands. "Yes. But he doesn't want to because he still wants to be mad. He has every right."

Sherlock huffed. "He won't move back in with me and he tells me that he wants to work through it with you but he doesn't talk to you about it."

"Frustrating, isn't it?" Mary asked, heading back to the bedroom. "You're not even living with him."

"Yes," Sherlock agreed as he trailed her. "I'm friends with John and I'm on relatively good speaking terms with you-"

"Oh, thanks for that," Mary interrupted.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes," he granted. "But I seem to be on two totally different wavelengths between you two. John and I talk cases and you and I talk... about whatever, but if I try to get both of you to talk shop, it's impossible." He looked back around, finding that Mary had already crawled back into bed and settled beneath the blankets and duvet. "Really?"

Mary frowned. "What? Just because I have a logical and good explanation for vomiting doesn't mean I feel good about it. It's seven-thirty in the morning."

Sighing, Sherlock walked over to Mary's side of the bed and pulled the blankets up around her more snugly. "Right. Is there anything else I can do?"

Mary shook her head. "Thank you, though. Really."

Sherlock paused before taking a step back, letting his coat slip off his arms. He threw it down on the chair and kicked his shoes off.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock shrugged. "What John should be." He crawled into bed on John's side of the bed - he could tell it was John's side of the bed, the mattress was in the position of the exact same way John had slept on the bed at Baker Street and this mattress smelled like him, too - and drew the blankets close. "Physical contact and things help to... yeah, calm you down and make you relax and things," he said absently, shifting to get comfortable.

Mary stared at him.

Sherlock tilted his head on the pillow. "Not good?"

Mary smiled softly. "No. It's good. Very human," she added, "but good."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I am human. Come here." He offered his arms invitingly, half serious and half joking.

"If you're offering, I'm taking you up on that and I'm never letting you live it down," Mary said, shuffling over.

"Which bit?" Sherlock asked. "I don't really... know where to put my hands," he muttered, awkwardly draping his arm around her shoulders.

"Sherlock, have you really never slept with anyone before?" Mary said teasingly, moving closer.

Sherlock's hand fell onto the back of Mary's shoulder. He absently ran his thumb along the ridge of her shoulder blade. "No. This seems comfortable, though."

"It is." Mary shifted over, resting her head on John's-but-currently-Sherlock's pillow. She dropped her voice. "Have you ever... you know?"

"Do I?" Sherlock echoed absently.

"Had sex," Mary finished bluntly.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, a smile flickering to his lips. "Is this a proposition?"

Mary smacked his arm. "Wouldn't John be worse off if it were. But, sorry... You're not really my type," she said.

Sherlock hummed. "Well, it might make him jealous and make him realise that he needs to fight for you instead of fight against you." He paused. "Although, he was the one who said we should have gotten married..."

Mary shook her head, still smiling to herself. "Go to sleep, Sherlock."

"I'm not tired."

"Then shut up so I can go to sleep."

Sherlock closed his eyes. "I estimate you'll need to return to the toilet in approximately twenty minutes."

"Lovely," Mary said dryly.

Sherlock chuckled and wrapped his arm around her firmly as she snuggled closer.

The timeline's a bit screwy from the actual show, but I wanted Sherlock to take care of her while John and Mary weren't talking, so... ignore my fudging of the timeline. (Don't think about it too much! :p) Cuddle!lock, but with Mary this time. Because this is really cute, too. Platonic Mary and Sherlock is good.

I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!