The Playing House Domestic Shipping Meme ♡

[foundparadise]

The Playing House Domestic Shipping Meme.

RULES! ❧ Leave a comment with your character's name, fandom, and any preferences you have. ❧ When replying, RNG for a number between 1 and 15. The number corresponds to the scenario that you will play out in whatever way you want to. ❧ Go from there!

THE LIST! 01] baby Suddenly, there's a new addition to your family! Are you expecting? Adopting? Struggling to find the perfect name for your child? Or maybe you're up at a ridiculous hour in the morning because they're crying like crazy. 02] just married Congratulations! You and your loved (?) one are about to start a whole new life together! It's time for the honeymoon... 03] house hunting Are you seeking out an apartment? A dream house? Or just any old place, as long as you're with your other? Make sure to weigh your options very carefully... 04] household chores It's time to clean/cook/garden/take care of something! Do you work together, or does one of you hide until everything is done? 05] shopping Whether it's for furniture, groceries, or something in between, shopping is something that everybody must do at some point in time! What varies is if they like it or not. 06] family vacation WE'RE OFF TO DIDNEY WOOOOOOOOORL or wherever ... well, as long as the kids are happy, right...? You may not be happy (or maybe you are), but it's mainly about ~family bonding~. 07] romantic retreat It's you and your loved one's anniversary, and you decide it's time to take some time off and take them somewhere nice, where you only have each other. 08] comfort Is somebody sick in bed? Or perhaps they just had a bad day? Sometimes, a good breakfast in bed or a home-cooked meal can really lift the spirits! Or perhaps you want to try medicine, or laughter, or something else? 09] pet Suddenly, you have another addition to the family! Is it a puppy? A kitty? A fierce dragon? Whatever it is, make sure to give it a name and to take good care of it! 10] holiday Happy birthday/New Years/Christmas/Valentine's Day/whatever! It's a very special day that only comes once a year, so make it count! 11] argument Oh, no, who left the stove on... Or maybe it's about why they were out late last night? Either way, there is a lot of tension today, and one of you may or may not be sleeping on the couch tonight. 12] making up It's time to make amends for that fight/divorce/whatever you had before! After all, you love each other... right? 13] surprise, surprise You are feeling rather loving tonight, so you want to remind the other person how much you cherish and appreciate them... if it's by something cute and adorable or hot and sexy is completely up to you. 14] proposal SHUT UP THIS TOTALLY FITS You've been with your other for what feels like forever, and finally you want to tie the knot with them. Will you go down on one knee before them, or get a little creative? 15] other I know I'm forgetting like a bajillion and one different things here, so this is the option for that!

Comments

[thetruthismine]

The touch relaxes him, soothes. Jane tries to lie still, not to shiver so much. His body is starting to ache, his throat thick. This is horrible ; the worst he's been ill in ages. Decades, maybe.

"How bad is it?" he asks. Everyone knows how Jane hates doctors.

[seesobserves]

No detectable scent of poison. Sherlock checks his eyes, his pallor. No real reason to believe he's been poisoned. Farhat was an idiot. Could be a simple case of the flu, but Patrick doesn't get sick like this. Never has.

...oh.

"Got peckish last night, didn't you?" Sherlock may be a deep sleeper, but he knows what Jane gets up to when he doesn't go to bed. And what he doesn't know, he can notice. He gets up, goes to the kitchen, checks the fridge, then the trash... and there's the discarded packaging.

"Bad shrimp," he concludes. "Never set foot in that particular grocer's myself, but I'd say it's time to find a new one."

[thetruthismine]

He'd gotten a craving. Stopped in to pick up a snack on the way back from another part of town, and chowed down on part of it in the cab. The rest had been saved in the fridge, when he'd had the munchies.

Jane has a hard time focusing when Sherlock leaves him to check the kitchen. His stomach threatens to roll over again, skin burning up for a split second.

"Food poisoning?" he mumbles, barely getting his vocal cords to intone what he wants. Somehow, it makes him nauseous, and he has just enough time to shift out of the blankets to dry heave into the trash can.

Once the brief fit passes he lies on his back a moment to catch his breath. The queasiness doesn't subside, though, and suddenly he's darting off the couch to go throw up in the bathroom. He barely makes it in time.

[seesobserves]

Sherlock tracks Jane with his eyes, silently preparing to call for Mrs. Hudson in the event of an accident. Experiences a private moment of relief when he doesn't have to. The smell would've been awful.

He scrapes the cold eggs into the trash, on top of the offending food wrapper, places the plate in the sink. Pours a glass of water to bring to Jane -- he may want to rinse his mouth out in a moment -- stands in the doorway and holds it out. If Jane doesn't look up, he'll place it on the floor.

[thetruthismine]

Jane stays hunched over he toilet for a while, catching his breath and trying to tell himself that the worst will be over now that he's thrown up. He groans softly, throat raw from the acidic taste.

He raises his eyes to look up at Sherlock, utterly pathetic.

"Thank you. "

[seesobserves]

Sherlock only acknowledges the thanks with a minute raise of his eyebrows before he moves off. No need to mention, even non-verbally, the way Patrick looks. No use in it.

No use, either, in letting fresh tea go to waste. He's fetching a clean cup and preparing some for himself.

"Need anything else?" Barring a call from Lestrade, he has no plans for the rest of the day. He can putter around the flat (as well as Sherlock ever putters), working on experiments and checking up on his websites. If and when Jane feels well enough to move, there may be telly or games -- but Jane, most likely, will have to suggest it.

[thetruthismine]

"Cool cloth."

It takes a few minutes for him to work back upright, to splash his face, rinse out his mouth, and fetch the glass of water. Jane shuffles back into the den, easing back down on the couch.

At least he doesn't have any muscle paralysis, and his speech and eyesight are still good. Those things, he knows, are serious. Even he could overcome his incredible distaste for hospitals and doctors for that (when it comes to doctors or death, he'll take the former, thanks).

"I'm dizzy." The room was tilting on his return trip, and is spinning a little now. "What do you have for that?"

[seesobserves]

Cool cloth it is. Sherlock wets a tea towel and brings it when Jane settles down on the sofa. Sets down on the coffee table again and holds the folded-up cloth out for Jane to take.

The question has him rummaging through his mind palace for a moment. Nothing too dramatic, only a little distance in his eyes, a little self-referential headshake. Then -- ah.

"Ginger root," he says, returning to the room. "If you can keep it down. Or I could just turn out the lights..."

Now he's sweeping to his feet to close the blinds. Darkness is supposed to help.

[thetruthismine]

Jane takes the cloth, folding it and draping it across his forehead. As he lies back, the room darkens, and it helps a bit.

"I'm not sure if I can put anything down that won't come back up," he says, still straining against the queasiness. "maybe in a tea."

[seesobserves]

Does Patrick keep ginger tea? Sherlock has to open a couple of cupboards before he finds the treasure trove and rummages through, first with his eyes and then with his hand. It takes about half a minute.

Jane has a lot of tea.

Sherlock sniffs the open box before collecting another clean cup and returning to pour the hot water.

[thetruthismine]

He tries not to think about food, or anything else that might go in his body. Just the idea makes his stomach want to knot up. He'll drink the tea, but quicker than his mind can tell his tummy to flip.

"I know I still have a fever. My body aches."

[seesobserves]

"Nothing for that but water and Paracetemol," Sherlock says as he sets the kettle down.

[thetruthismine]

Jane groans, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. Maybe if he closes his eyes, this will be over faster. But the room just feels like it can't find its axis, and he reluctantly cracks them back open. How is he supposed to sleep like this?

[seesobserves]

It's a few minutes before Sherlock speaks again. By then, he's sat in front of his laptop, his back to Jane, silhouetted in the mostly-dark by the light of the screen.

And it only just then occurs to him.

"Did you want any?" The question is absent; he's still mostly focused on whatever's on the screen.

[thetruthismine]

The question confuses him.

"Mn?" Jane admittedly lost track of what they'd been chatting during the interim. Hell, he might have drifted lightly for a minute or two. The last thing he remembers...

"Kettle."

Did he forget the tea, or were they talking about painkillers?

[seesobserves]

"Paracetemol," Sherlock corrects him. But before Jane can answer, his fingers are rattling over the keyboard as he shoots an email to Mrs. Hudson. She's marginally tech savvy enough to see it before long. Doubtless she has some in her medicine cabinet.

[thetruthismine]

Oh. Right.

"Yes. I'd take Schedule 1 narcotics at this point." He shivers again, raising his eyes to Sherlock.

"Busy?"

[seesobserves]

Probably for the best that they're not facing one another, because Sherlock is ticking one eyebrow up like he's considering it.

"Airport schedules," he tosses off casually. "Didn't get a chance this morning."

[thetruthismine]

"Okay." It sounds like never mind, and he reaches his hand out, snaking it from under the blanket to search for tea on the coffee table.

[seesobserves]

The tea ought to be well-steeped by now. Sherlock keeps clicking away at the track pad. There are fewer key-rattlings, for the moment.

But some portion of Sherlock's mind is still paying attention to things outside itself. He listens for the rattle of porcelain, indication that Jane has either just picked up the cup or just set it down.

"Good?"

[thetruthismine]

There's a soft clink when Jane attempts to lift the cup, yet can't manage the leverage at his current angle. It lands back on the saucer and he huffs at himself, twisting his body out of the blanket to pull the cup to his lips. Hot tea soothes his mouth and mind, but settles oddly in his hollow stomach. He lies back, taking a few breaths to calm himself. It's not precisely an answer to Sherlock's query.

He'd give all the tea in China to be held right now.

[seesobserves]

What Sherlock notes most is the lack of an answer. He's not so engaged in his work that he would've glossed over anything verbal. He thinks.

"Patrick?" he asks after considering this, then tears his eyes away from the screen to glance over his shoulder. He watches the pile of blanket on the sofa.

He's not used to this. Never had a flatmate he cared about enough to bother with when they were sick, not before. And Jane's never been sick.

He doesn't know what to do.

[thetruthismine]

Jane only knows what he's done in this situation, what he did when b--Charlotte came down with things (or thought she did). What happened when Annie caught a bug.

He rests his head against the cushions after trying another sip simply to rehydrate himself.

"Will you see how high my fever is?"

It's the only way he can think to wheedle some contact.

[seesobserves]

Sherlock is over in seconds, putting the back of his hand to Jane's forehead.

"No change in temperature... though your skin's damper." Could be the fever. Could be the blanket. But he's probably feeling too chilled to abandon it.

And again, Sherlock's thumb skates across Jane's brow in the aftermath, fingers brushing through the very ends of curls. This time, it lingers just a bit longer.

"Bodies," he says, quietly derisive, after a moment of this. "Always looking for ways to betray us."

[thetruthismine]

And how. Jane visibly relaxes, eyes slipping closed when he feels Sherlock's touch on his forehead. Even the barest flicker of his hair is enough to actually make his mood elevate. Fasting from most forms of touch seems, in the moment, a very unwise choice.

He swallows.

"I'm sweating?"