Well, I stitched things together and managed some of the necessary conversation and posted that part. I called it Haploid. An excerpt -
*** John had been expecting a fever, had administered an antipyretic. He walked around the bed; in the low light, no feverish flush was discernable. He raised a hand and paused.
“You aren’t going to hurt me, John,” Sherlock said, his head turning. “Not unless you have a flask of Moran’s blood you’re planning to pour on me.”
John exhaled. His hand pushed up Sherlock’s strange, fair hair and settled on his brow. Slightly warm, even with the medicine. “I’ll take your temperature,” John said, beginning to lift his hand.
“Don’t. It isn’t high.” John stopped. “Sit by me,” Sherlock said. “I missed your touch.”
“But you…” John began. His hand trailed down the side of Sherlock’s face before he took it away and perched on the edge of the bed.
Sherlock opened his eyes, held John with them. John’s weight settled more firmly into the mattress. “I touched you,” Sherlock said. “It’s more of a difference than one might expect.”
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2012-07-14 03:46 pm (UTC)***
John had been expecting a fever, had administered an antipyretic. He walked around the bed; in the low light, no feverish flush was discernable. He raised a hand and paused.
“You aren’t going to hurt me, John,” Sherlock said, his head turning. “Not unless you have a flask of Moran’s blood you’re planning to pour on me.”
John exhaled. His hand pushed up Sherlock’s strange, fair hair and settled on his brow. Slightly warm, even with the medicine. “I’ll take your temperature,” John said, beginning to lift his hand.
“Don’t. It isn’t high.” John stopped. “Sit by me,” Sherlock said. “I missed your touch.”
“But you…” John began. His hand trailed down the side of Sherlock’s face before he took it away and perched on the edge of the bed.
Sherlock opened his eyes, held John with them. John’s weight settled more firmly into the mattress. “I touched you,” Sherlock said. “It’s more of a difference than one might expect.”