"You really should see a doctor." First time John said this to his flatmate, he meant it mostly as a good joke. But that was four days ago. Now he does no loger find it that funny. Actually, he´s getting seriously conserned about his friend´s health. Sherlock is obviously in some kind of pain and he obviously feels sick. But he won´t admitt it - not a big surprise.

John´s taughts were interupted by Sherlock coming into the living room. John´s trained doctor´s eye immediately noticed his steps were a bit unsure and John added dizziness to the list of symptoms in his head.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked, but he was pretty certain what answer is to come.

"I´m fine." Well, John was right again. He knew his friend good enough to tell this. And he knew him good enough to tell he is definitely not "fine". His instincts were shouting not to stop watching Sherlock for even one second.

"Right. That´s it. You´re telling me what´s wrong with you right now or I´m driving you to the nearest hospital." John sounded very decided but worried in the same time.

"I´m fine, really, John. I´m fine...I... just..."Sherlock mumbled - his eyes closed, clearly not having the energy to open them or to develop some better arguments against John.

"No, you´re not. " said John, this time the worried part of him slightly overtaking. "Tell me what hurts?"

There was only silence instead of an aswer.

"Well, here is what I know. Backpain, started four days ago, first only in your lumbar spine but than spreading, finally radiating to your head. But the headache wasn´t a real problem till last night, when it developed to a pretty nasty migrene, causing slight nausea. Then of course there is this cough, you´re so desperately trying to hide from me. Gets worse when you lay down - which I know even if you cover your head every time with a blanket - So I´d say there is a breathing difficulty connected, althought I can´t know for sure. But you didn´t have a decent night sleep at least three nights. Finally, this mornig you presented with slight fever, sweathing and dizziness, which means your state is deteorating."

Even despite his weakness, Sherlock opened his eyes in astonishment. "How did you.."he started but John interrupted.

"How did I know? Guess Sherlock. I didn´t know. I observed...I´m a doctor, remember? That´s just what I do. Much more important is - Is there something else I should know? "

"I fell terrible, John. It´s hurting. I can´t ...do this. Please...do something." Sherlock almost cried.

"All right. Don´t you worry. "John said, his voice both stong and comforting, but deep inside, he panicked. He has never seen his friend loose his self-control this much. This was a very bad sign. "Sherlock?"he put his hand on his friends shoulder "Why don´t you wait here a sec, I go get my medical kit and we´ll see what we can do, right? We will figure this one out. I´ll be back in a minute."

John ran up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as he could and he pulled his orange medical bag from under his bed. The bag was big and well equiped - even a small regional hospital woudn´t be ashamed for it. John got it as a Christmas gift from Mycroft. Of course he knew it was because Mycroft wanted John to be able to help his brother in emergency situations. There was a nice surgical kit, various drugs and bandage materials. But today John was going to use diagnostic tools - he needs to know first, what the problem with Sherlock is.

Sherlock was sitting in the exact same position as he left him. Only maybe shaking his body a little more in pain and fever. John sat opposite him on the corner of the coffe table and opened his bag.

"I´m back, Sherlock."he said and run his hand through his flatmate´s dark curls to offer some comfort. "I´m going to examine you now. Is that OK?"he asked, but not really did he wait for an answer. First, he grabbed for Sherlock´s wrist and took his pulse. And he wasn´t very happy about it. Too fast and too weak. He got a modern digital thermometer out of his bag and sticked its piece into Sherlock´s ear. His friend´s eyes was still closed and he moaned silently as the cold iron unexpectantly touched his inner ear.

"You´ve got pretty high fever, almost 40." John frowned as he retrieved the thermometer and touched Sherlock´s neck to feel for any abnormalities. Lymphatic nods were swollen and Sherlock moaned painfully again when John pressed them.

As much as John didn´t want to admit this, he was scared. Sherlock was obviously in a very bad shape. But at this moment, John could not afford any time to contemplate his own emotions or fears. It was time for him to act cooly and profesionally - to act as a doctor.

John was now checking Sherlock´s blood pressure, which was surprisingly not looking any better then the rest of his life sighns. Dangerously low. And his pulse-ox was also borderline John realised after placing the electrode on his finger. This was definitely not good.

"Sherlock, I need to listen to your hearth and lungs, now. It´ll be over soon. I promise." He put the earpieces of his stethoscope to his ears and warmed the other end with his palm a bit and than pressed it against the very pale and burning skin of Sherlock´s chest. He closed his eyes concentrating on the sounds.

"I know it hurts, Sherlock, but could you lean forward for me? I have to listen to your back too." John said and in the same time he noticed Sherlock was already struggling with the move, knowing John would ask for it, but miserabelly failed.

"Come on, let me help you." John´s steady arm slipped behind Sherlock´s shoulders and heped him sit forward.

"Right. And one more deep breath for me, would you?" Sherlock tried, but the moment his lungs filled with air they started to spasm freneticaly and Sherlock started a violent caughing fit.

"It´s OK. Just breath. In...and out...in...and out...and in...and out. Great, that´s it."John´s hand on Sherlock´s shoulder gently pushed him to lean back to the sofa.

John was well aware thet the next part of the examination will most definitely be the most inconvenient one, but he needed to be thorough at this.

"OK. I will palpate your abdomen now. You need to lay down for me." and he slowly guided Sherlock down to lay on the sofa.

"I´m going to bend your knees now. And open your belt to free the area. There we go." John lifted the thin and soft fabric of Sherlock´s shirt and exposed bare flesh. He looked up to see his friend´s face. Sherlock was fighting pain, his eyes still closed and left hand touching his burning forehead.

"You let me know if there is any discomfort or pain." there was a slight nod. John started to explore the abdomen, moved his hands almost automticaly as he´s done it thousands of times before, but this time maybe a little more carefully and gently. The moment Sherlock hissed in pain John immediately felt his enlarged splin.

"How long do you have this abdominal pain?" John askes and continues pressing on Sherlock´s belly.

"About 3 hours" Sherlock managed to grin through his teeth.

"Well, all done now." Johnd concluded and guided his patient´s legs to lay flat again. Sherlock was shivering.

"Cold...cold. I´m cold." Sherlock was mumbeling incoherrently.

John tucked several blankets around him and speaking in reassuring and comforting voice he said "Sherlock, your body is fighting some serious infection. And you´re dehydrated. We need to take care of this first."

Sherlock felt something cool on his forearm - an alcohol whipe - he realised, and heard some plastic bags beeing opened, gloves beeing put on.

"There will be a little stick." John said and than there was a sharp sensation of a needle in his forearm. John expertly found the vein for in the matter of seconds and than secured the IV port with tape. Than connected it with a tube and suddenly Sherlock felt the cool fluid of the sailine bag flow through his veins. John adjusted the drift and hanged the bag on a bookshelf above the sofa.

"That should do the trick, with the dehydration. Now, we need to talk about the rest. Tru is I´m not sure what´s going on with you. I would need to do some more tests, like bloodwork and toxscreen or an abdominal CT for that matter. And I would like to have you looked after in a hospital.

"No, John. No hospitals.."

"Sherl..."

"John, "Sherlock gathered some strength to talk "It´s 10 pm. The hospital is certainly understuffed. Night shift will only care for acute cases. We will wait for ages to be admitted and even than there is no guarantee they will have the space for you to do the tests you want."

Sherlock closed his eyes again, clearly exhausted from the efford of thinking and talking. John frowned at his arguments. He knew how badly Sherlock hated hospitals and would do anything to avoid them, but this time, John realised he was right. There is nothing a hospital could provide to Sherlock that John coudn´t for tonight. He will take him to St. Barts tomorow when his own shift startes. And he could take care of all the tests himself.

"Fine. But under one condition." John finally agreed. "You stay monitored and in bed without complainig."

"I´m clearly not going anywhere soon" Sherlock replied bitterly amused and wanted to laugh, but started to caugh again.

"Easy, easy. Good that your humor is not leaving you. Let´s get you something for the pain and some IV antibiotics for the beginning."

There was the sound of bags, gloves and tubes again. And than a sound of glass drug-bottles beeing picked up, a short pause while the liquid was drained into the syringe and than Sherlock felt the drug running into his veins. It felt very good. Soon he started to feel drowsy and sleepy. And the pain was really a bit better now.

"Ahh..." escaped from Sherlock´s lips.

"Good. Glad it works that fast, aren´t you? I´m going to set up the monitoring of your pulse."

He got a package from his medical bag, opened it and revealed six self-sticking electrodes and placed them on Sherlock´s chest. Than connected them to a flat monitor silently thanking Mycroft while the modern monitor began to peep in the rythm of his patient´s hearth. Sherlock was fine for now, but the numbers weren´t really good. There was nothing more John could do for now but to wait for the drugs to kick in. And to watch his friend very closely. He sat into his chair and started a long vigil at his flatmate´s bedside.