Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Hello everyone! First off, thank you so much for all the reads/reviews/faves/follows! I always say it but I always mean it – your encouragement literally brings a smile to my face. And after almost two months of working this story between the holidays and school, I have finally found a good ending – and believe me, I've written this chapter a few different times so I'm glad to finally have found one I like. I hope you enjoy it!

It took Sherlock a few days – not to mention a few trips to the loo with his hand over his mouth – to be back to normal. Once he had passed the vomiting stage and regained an appetite (or as much of an appetite Sherlock Holmes ever had), he constantly annoyed John about going out. John's answer was always the same.

"You're not well until your temperature has been normal for twenty-four hours."

"It's a mild fever. It's nothing to worry about." Sherlock said four days later, flopping onto their sofa. He was a bit angry because John had locked his pistol in his strongbox.

"Until it becomes more than mild." John said, beginning to lose his patience. He had lost count of the number of times he and Sherlock had had this conversation.

"Check it again."

"No."

"Please?"

"Sherlock, you checked it half an hour ago."

"Would you believe me if I told you my standard body temperature is slightly elevated?"

"No."

"Drat."

Sherlock starred idly at the ceiling … the same, old boring ceiling. How dull.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?" John sighed his response and he didn't look up from his magazine.

"I'm bored."

"Work on an experiment, then."

"I don't have what I need to do my next experiment. Will you go shopping for me?"

"No. Read a book."

"I don't want to read a book." Sherlock's voice was bordering a whine.

"Can I ask Lestrade to send cold case files?"

John put down his reading material.

"Do you promise to stay in the flat?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I promise." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

"Promise what?"

"I promise to stay in the flat." Sherlock said this with a look that was a cross between a glare and a child making a face behind the teacher's back.

"Fine." John picked up his magazine again as Sherlock dialled Lestrade as quickly as he could. A few minutes later the doorbell rang and Sherlock ran down like a child on Christmas morning eager to open his presents. The moment he returned, he sat at the kitchen table, reading a complete file, making a few notes, and then moving to the next one. At least, John though, he was quiet.

It took another day and a half before John let Sherlock out of the flat and when he did, he watched from the window as Sherlock drew in a breath of fresh air – his first in almost two weeks – and hailed a cab.

He sat down to update his blog to let the world know Sherlock was okay once again and was almost done when he heard the front door bang closed. He glanced at the clock – Sherlock had only been gone for forty minutes.

"You're back early," he greeted Sherlock, noting Sherlock was holding a small cooler and a file folder. "Where were you?"

"Had to see Mycroft." Sherlock answered, un-looping his scarf.

"Are you sure your fever's not back?" John asked dryly. Sherlock hated seeing Mycroft and normally sent John in his stead.

"Quite." Sherlock dropped the file folder on John's keyboard.

"What's this?" John asked, picking up the file as Sherlock went into the kitchen and cleared a space on the counter.

"Medical file." Sherlock answered, laying a clean tea towel on the counter before opening the cooler. "Mine."

"I can see that," John murmured, eyes scanning the front page. He looked up to Sherlock.

"Why do I have your medical file?"

"Because," Sherlock said, taking out vials and needles and laying them carefully on the towel. "You are going to update my vaccinations."

"What?" John, by this point, had stood and was walking towards the counter.

"Page ten."

John flipped to page ten – a bit surprised there were nine pages of documented medical events – and saw Sherlock's immunization record which was mostly blank past the age of twelve, he noticed.

"Sherlock, I can't - "

"Yes, you can." Sherlock interrupted, unbuttoning his sleeve. "I spoke with Mycroft and his personal physician," Sherlock rolled his eyes at the idea of Mycroft having his own doctor. "And they verified these are the vaccines I'm missing. You're a doctor, you can administer them."

"But - "

"Oh, come on John, it's not that hard. I'd do it myself but they need a physician's signature on the form."

"So why not just go to the surgery?"

"Me, go to the surgery? What an idiotic idea."

John rolled his eyes.

"After what I've been though with the yellow fever, I am not making that mistake again. Will you do it?"

John felt the corners of his lips turn up.

"Did you just say you made a mistake?"

"You know what I mean." Sherlock said impatiently. "Will you?"

John sighed. As much as he would rather Sherlock go to the surgery and have the shots administered in a sterile environment, he reasoned that having them at all was better than nothing.

"Let me find some gloves and alcohol swabs."

Sherlock reached into the cooler and pulled out both. John pulled on the gloves and started reading bottles, making sure it was safe to give them all at once and following their instructions before administering them. Seven shots later, Sherlock was rolling down his sleeve and John was filling in the vaccination charts before he gathered the needles and such and returned them to the cooler. Sherlock took the cooler to return to Mycroft – that had been part of the deal if John administered the shots. The needles, completed and signed chart, and empty vaccination vials all had to be returned and accounted for or else Mycroft would call Detective Inspector Lestrade to do a drugs bust at 221B.

John waited till Sherlock was gone before sitting down to finish his blog entry.

With Sherlock now up to date on his shots, I'm curious to see how sore his arm will be tomorrow … should be interesting, to say the least.

Well, that is the end of Contagion. I would like to thank you all once again for your lovely words of encouragement. A special thanks to Prothoe for the prompt – it was a good one! I hope you enjoyed reading the story … and I'll have to be careful what I say because another term starts on Monday, but I hope to have some new material up soon. I have the ideas, now I just need the time and maybe a bit more inspiration. But I'll get there.

Thank you again and happy reading and writing!

StoryLover18