John

I wake up to the smell of waffles and bacon. A grin spreads across my face as I hop down off the bed and run into the kitchen.

"Feeling better this morning are we?" Sherlock mutters as I walk into the room and plop down at the table.

"Yes very much so." I reply still wearing my cheeky grin. "This is for you." Sherlock says as he sits my waffle and two pieces of bacon in front of me.

"What about you?" I ask and place my hand on top of his. He glances at our hands before sighing.

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes, Sherlock, you are. Now eat something I don't care what it is." I order and he gives me a pleading look.

"If you get sick you get sick now eat." I finish. This time Sherlock doesn't argue and gets out a can of mandarin oranges.

He pours then into a bowl then sits back in front of me and slowly eats them.

"See that wasn't so hard was it." Sherlock just rolls his eyes and eats another.

I notice him start to drift off. Not only that but him staring at the stairs that lead into what must be a basement only adds to the odd behavior.

His eyes start to water and before I can say anything he races down the stairs. I hear Sherlock start to weep from somewhere below me, and as much as I want to help him I know he wouldn't want me down there.

Sherlock's phone goes off from the counter. Hesitantly I get up and when I see its only Mycroft I answer.

"Yes?"

"John? Is Sherlock okay?" Mycroft asks sounding a little worried. Something had happened during the time Sherlock and I were separated.

"I....er....."

"He's not downstairs is he? John of he's down there you go get him now." Mycroft orders but I just can't bring myself to invade Sherlock's privacy like that.

"Why?! What's it about the basement that is so-"

"I'M NOT THERE TO CARRY HIS NEAR LIFELESS BODY UP THOSE STAIRS THIS TIME!!!!! JOHN WATSON YOU GET DOWN TO HIM NOW!" Hearing Mycroft shout like that is enough to make me believe him and hang up.

"Sherlock!" I call as I run down the stairs. To my surprise he's not smoking or doing any other type of drug like I was expecting.

He's staring at a little brown box in the center of the room with horror in his eyes.

"I-it.....it's taunting m-me."

"Sherlock what-" Drugs.

I'm not there to carry his lifeless body up those stairs.....

Due to flashbacks he cannot control

Mycroft's words echo through my head. I walk over to Sherlock and sit next to him.

"Talk to me." I say and his eyes close. His hand twitches before moving a bit closer to mine. I lace our fingers together and Sherlock squeezes.

"I'm not going to. I'm not." He chokes out. "I'm done with that. It's not what I want or what makes me happy."

"Prove it." I say in a tone harsh enough to make him listen, but not enough to hurt him. "Prove to me that's not what you want."

Sherlock releases my hand and walks over to the box. He takes in a deep breath before lifting it off the ground.

"Follow me." He mumbles and I listen. I follow Sherlock all the way through the woods to a secluded spot with a convenient little creek.

There's a slight tremble in Sherlock's hands as he opens the box lid. Sure enough inside is what must've been his stash.

He takes out a plastic bag full of cocaine and dumps the drug into the creek.

One by one the procedure repeats itself till the box is completely empty. I wrap a still shaking Sherlock into my arms where he begins to sob again.

"Sherlock Mycroft called. He talked about having to carry you up-"

"I overdosed when I was 13, the last time we were here, and Mycroft found me. Unfortunately he wasn't the most supportive when I woke up either." Sherlock says quietly.

"He cared a lot more then you think he did." There's a moment of silence before Sherlock answers with,

"I know."

We walk back to the house hand in hand. No words can express how proud of Sherlock I am. He could've very easily told me to piss off and overdosed again......but he didn't.

"That's not going to leave a very attractive scar." Sherlock mutters and I glance down at my arm.

"I could care less." I mumble back. I mean I do believe in Sherlock I always have and always will. I'll never forget the first week after the fall. It was the worst.

"Care to tell me why it was the worst?" Sherlock asks signalling I must've thought out loud.

"Well it was my first week being without you. Thinking that I was never going to see you, or breathe in your comforting sent, or hear your brilliant deduction skills again. Then there was the media. It was everywhere. 'Fake genius commits suicide' Everytime someone would say a think about it I'd just break down. It was awful hearing people say you were fake and anyone who believed you real was insane. At that point I already knew I was insane, that part didn't bother me." I pause and take the time to wipe a tear from Sherlock's cheek.

"The part that bothered me was that they judged you yet they hadn't even met you. I think it was then I realized how horrible people are to one another. I remember Molly visiting one time during that week and she was completely fine. Not a tear or frown anything. This bothered me more than anything. I felt like our world had crashed down around us and she was smiling!" Sherlock kisses me quite passionately. I wrap my hands around Sherlock's neck and mess with the curls I can reach while his hands rest gently on my lower back.

It's as if the world has stopped and all that matters is Sherlock and myself. All the doubt I once had of Sherlock's love for me slip away.

We both pull away at the same time. Our foreheads rest against each other but this doesn't stop us from staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you like that John." Sherlock whispers and I kiss him again.

"I love you." I whisper.

"I love you too." I smile and Sherlock opens the door for me. Once he's inside I trap Sherlock against the wall and kiss him like I never have before, earning a soft moan from Sherlock.

"I know idiot I just wanted to hear you say it."