SherlockxReader One Shots/Imagines/preferences REQUESTS CLOSED!!

JohnxWorkaholic! Reader: Sick Day

A/N: WE HIT 3K READS!!! YAYYYY!!!!

Anywho, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Cussing

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"John I swear to god if you call my work I'm gonna-" you said feverishly before beginning an onslaught of coughing. Your boyfriend, John Watson, simply rolled his eyes and began dialing a number on the phone.

Currently, you had a fever of 39 degrees C (Around 102 degrees F, for you Americans) and felt like a bowl of shit, but that didn't stop you from wanting to go to work. Work for you was great because you could do something with yourself. Your hands didn't feel fidgety because they were moving and your mind was always working in some sort of way. Missing work was torture in a form of boredom.

"Hi, yes, I'm Dr John Watson," you heard John saying on the phone while you were locked in your room, pounding on the door weakly. "I'm calling about Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She's very sick and will have to take a day or two off."

"SHUT IT," Cough. "I'M NOT SICK." Cough.

"How sick?" John asked, most likely repeating a question that he was just asked. "She's a fever of about 41.5 (Again, around 106 degrees F for 'Mericans) and is feeling very nauseous."

Anger rose in your chest as John had suddenly made your fever rise 2 and a half degrees to a dangerous temperature. You were going to kill that man.

"I would wholeheartedly suggest around three to four days off, but you will be informed if there is a need for more," You heard John say. Pause. "Yes, thank you. Goodbye."

You sighed, knowing going to work was hopeless. Even if you snuck off to your job, they would just send you back thinking you were too sick to work.

The door you were pounding (more like lightly pressing) and leaning on suddenly opened, making you fall into the hallway. Your face almost became closely acquainted with the floor before your boyfriend's strong arms caught you. A sigh escaped his lips as he lifted you up into bridal style, carrying you back into bed while ignoring your protests.

"You bastard..." You mumbled to him as your eyelids steadily became heavier. "I could've gone to work, but noooooo. Dr. Watson feels the need to take charge."

"You'll thank me later," he said, ticking you into bed and kissing your dry, hot forehead. "Get some rest. I'll be back in a little bit."

The army doctor stood up and went for the door, but before leaving he added, "Don't even think about getting up because I'll know." And with that, he left you to your own devices.

You huffed childishly and stared at the ceiling. There was no way you would sleep, right? Your mind was too anxious and hands too full of energy to be able to stop moving, which was why you were very sleep deprived and a great worker.

However, despite your wishes, your eyes became heavier and your mind turned exhausted. Suddenly, you closed your eyes and when you opened them again you saw John was there, shaking you awake.

"Here," he said, holding up a bowl of what you suspected to be soup. "I'd feed you myself except I know you'd kill me."

You forced yourself into a sitting position and rubbed your eyes. Uncomfortable and sick as you were, you still felt a little hungry. You grabbed the bowl and began to eat out of it; half of you hungrily desperate for it and the other half sickly disagreeing with the thought of food.

After you'd eaten around a third of it under John's watch, you handed it back to him with a grateful expression. He took it and set it on the nightstand for later.

"Thanks," you managed to croak through your dry voice. Your throat practically begged for water, but your delirious head couldn't formed the words.

To your words, John simply nodded and smiled a little before getting up. Before he could leave, however, you instinctively snatched his wrist.

"Stay," you begged, looking at him earnestly. To this, John paused before crawling into bed with you,  ignoring the fact that you were very sick and probably contagious.

The dirty blonde cuddled his warm body close to you, making you feel hotter than you should've but you didn't care.  It was comforting to know that he was there, comforting you while you were sick.  You became very comfortable, laying there in John's arms and becoming more and more tired. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard your boyfriend whisper the sweetest words:

"I think you're beautiful even when you're sick, love."

Only a week later, though, and you found yourself in John's position as he had a high fever and the urge to go to work.

Hopefully this boosts our immune systems, you thought about the irony as you began treating the ill doctor.

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A/N: That felt so...constipated and awkward to write. Mainly the ending, though I have no idea why.

Also, WOULD YOU LOOKIE HERE!! I actually got another one shot done in less than a week. I'm proud of myself.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

-Kris