Hello, everybody!

This is just something that started on Omegle and I decided to bring it to life, err, fanfiction! This story will be co-written by me and Sherlockskisses (On Tumblr), and we hope that you like it. Do review and let us know!

And yes, the title is inspired from Winnie the Pooh quote. I just love that bear! :p

Disclaimer: Sherlock and it's characters belong to ACD, BBC, Moffat and Gatiss. I am not any of them, sadly.

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I'm Sticking With You Until You Are Unstuck

Chapter 1

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It is one of those days, John Watson thought to himself as he placed his feet up on the coffee table.

Lazy day. At least that is what his mother used to call it when he was little. A day when the peace and the quiet just felt right, when you just don't want to do anything, when you are extremely content with everything.

John never experienced these days much. He never understood why his mother liked these days. He preferred to have his days filled with adventure and fun.

But today, the calm felt good.

He had gotten off work early, he was home alone and there was an interesting football match on the telly that he could watch without any distractions because, again, Mary wasn't home. Not that he disliked his wife's company. Far from it. But she was in the 'complaining about everything' phase of her pregnancy and John found that really annoying.

Not today, though. Today, everything was good.

Sherlock would hate today, a voice in his head said and he could not help but agree. Any day that did not have a mysterious kidnapping or a cleverly stolen artifact or a gruesome murder would be a 'hateful' day in the eyes of Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective and John's best friend.

John hadn't seen Sherlock in almost two weeks. He had been a bit busy with Mary and his job. Plus, Sherlock had complained about the lack of interesting cases and mentioned some long experiment that involved human intestines… John had decided to stay away until that ended.

Two weeks is long enough, John decided as he watched the players in the match dribble the ball effortlessly. Maybe he would drop by Baker Street after the match ended and some of the laziness left him.

His phone beeped and he picked it up. It was a text message from Sherlock.

Think of the devil, he grinned inwardly. All his amusement, however, flew out of the window the second he read the text.

Come to Baker Street. Relapsing. SH

John jumped to his feet, picking up his keys and putting on his shoes and jacket as he fired off a reply.

I'm on my way. But what is going on?

His phone beeped once again.

I'm sorry, John. I don't know...I couldn't help myself. SH

John shook his head, bewildered, as he ran out of his house. This was the last thing he had expected. Sherlock, drugs, again… what?! He quickly typed a reply:

Sherlock, why didn't you call me when you had the urge?

He paused, his finger hovering over the "send" option. No, this was a discussion he could have face to face. He erased the message and sent another, more important, question.

Are there more drugs at the flat?

The reply came after a long (at least in John's opinion) minute.

Maybe. SH

Without wasting time, John dialled Mycroft's number and waited as the dial tone echoed in the car. Bless Mary for getting the new technology thing installed that enabled them to use their phone while driving. He was wondering what it was called when Sherlock's brother answered the phone.

"Make this quick, Doctor Watson," was his greeting, "I'm heading into an important meeting as we speak."

Good. John wasn't in the mood for small talk, either. "It's Sherlock. He's using again. Did you know that?"

Mycroft was silent for a second. "I was not aware of that."

"Well, I'm on my way to Baker Street right now. You should come too."

"Meeting, Doctor Watson," Mycroft reminded him.

"Right. He said there might be more stuff at the flat."

An irritated sigh, "Of course there might be. I'll ask the members of his fan-club to search his flat once again."

"No. He came clean to me which means that he wants to be helped," John said. "We should talk to him."

"You should, if you think that will help," Mycroft replied.

"It will."

"Very well," Mycroft voice was blank, but John had the feeling that the man didn't think talking to Sherlock would work. "I will join you when I'm free."

And the line went dead. John dialed another number, this time Sherlock's. He needed to know how, why and what was going on...

"So the traffic is terrible but I'm coming," John said when Sherlock answered the phone, "And Mycroft will be there too once he is free."

"You told him?"

"Of course I did. He did not sound happy and I don't blame him."

"John!" Sherlock's voice sounded mildly irritated, "He's not supposed to know!"

"Yeah, well, you're not supposed to be getting high." John snapped back.

"I'm not now..." An uncertain pause, "I was, but I texted you after. It's not like I kept it from you like last time."

"The last time was supposed to be the last time, Sherlock. You promised. Why would you want to go back to that?"

"I didn't. I did. But I don't. I don't know... You don't know what it's like, John."

This was bad.

Sherlock never stuttered and he sure as hell never sounded so helpless, except when he was at the rooftop at Bart's. But that had been an act, a plan to fake his death, as John had found out two years later. This… this didn't make sense.

"You're Sherlock Bloody Holmes. If anyone can control the addiction, it's you."

Sherlock replied in a small voice. "That's it, though. I can do everything except this."

"You should have come to me, Sherlock," John said in a soft voice, "Day or night, doesn't matter. I would have helped you."

"I know that. But when I'm in that mindset I don't think, all I can think about is getting high."

John let out a breath. He appreciated Sherlock's honesty but that didn't make it any better. John wanted to help him, but he couldn't keep an eye on him 24/7.

"You need a new flatmate who can keep an eye on you." John mused, almost forgetting that Sherlock could hear him.

"I do not need a new flatmate!" Sherlock spat, his disgust at the idea clear in his voice.

"Then you need to control your drug habit!"

"I do not have a drug habit!"

John rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Sherlock was a genius. He would definitely see how stupid his statement was.

Sure enough, the consulting detective spoke up a second later sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I do… But I do not need a flatmate."

John could continue this argument but it was pointless. He knew Sherlock would never agree to having a new flatmate. And even if he did, there was no one who would be Sherlock's flatmate. People didn't understand Sherlock. No one would stick around.

"Maybe you should get some professional help," John suggested slowly, "Go to rehab or something."

"No," the reply was instant, "That's where Mycroft sent me a few years ago. Didn't work, did it?"

"But –"

"I'm not going back there. They don't help, they're idiots."

John sighed. "Look, Sherlock. You need help. You're going to be my daughter's godfather, you cannot be a junkie!"

There was a shocked pause. "I'm going to be her godfather?"

"Of course you are." John replied. There were no second thoughts about it. "You get to spoil our daughter and we get to blame you for everything she does wrong!"

Sherlock chuckled.

"Besides, you vowed to be there for Mary and me and the baby," John went on, feeling that he was on the right track, "How will you do that when you have over dosed on cocaine?"

"I know I vowed to be there for you lot. I won't overdose. I'll keep it in check or something… I don't know. What am I going to do?"

"Stop using," John replied calmly.

"How?"

And just then, an idea hit John. Yes, that would work. It definitely would. "Move in with Mary and me for a few weeks." He said, "Mary won't mind. We'll help you."

"I can do it on my own." Sherlock spoke up after a moment's pause, "Besides, it's not like you want a junkie in the house with your pregnant wife, is it?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure. Besides, Mary adores you. We'd love to have you and help you."

Sherlock was silent for a few, long moments. "Fine… I'll stay with you two," he agreed uncertainly, "But only until I get off this. Or until your daughter is born."

John nodded, even though Sherlock could not see it. "Deal. I'm almost at Baker Street. Why don't you pack up some stuff?"

"Alright. And warning before you come into Baker Street, I trashed it earlier to stop myself from getting any drugs. And as well as that there are a few drugs lying around so I'd watch your step."

"Mrs. Hudson is going to be mad."

"Yep!"

John chuckled and hung up the phone, trying to push down his concern with the amusement and optimism. It's all going to be fine…

xx

Sherlock was standing in his room, packing his things into his suitcase as he listened for John nervously. Why did he agree to this stupid idea? Well, he knew why. It just –

He shut his suitcase quickly when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A moment later, he heard John call out his name from the living room. "In here," he called back, picking up his violin case and placing it on his bed next to the suitcase.

John leaned against the door to Sherlock's bedroom, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey. You all packed?"

"I'm thinking of testing a hypothesis on tongues. It involves keeping them in a -"

"No human body parts," John cut in.

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "At least let me take some cigarettes, they help me take my mind off other things."

"Mary is pregnant. No cigarettes." John said firmly as he watched Sherlock pick up an object from his bedside table, which he recognized as the skull. "And you're not bringing that either."

Sherlock turned towards John, his eyes moving between his best friend and his skull. "But the skull, John!" He whined like a five year old asking for more candy.

The doctor shook his head. "Mrs. Hudson is right, it's against health and safety."

Sherlock looked down at the skull in his hands, a small pout on his face. He looked like a kicked puppy. Maybe John was being too hard on him… "You can bring the skull, I guess," he said grudgingly, "Only if you keep it in your room."

A small smile lit Sherlock's face and he quickly tossed the skull into his suitcase, barely opening it, and zipped it. "I am packed now."

John looked at his violin case and the suitcase with narrowed eyes. "Anything in that suitcase that shouldn't be there?"

He looked down at it anxiously and then back at John. "No."

"Uh huh."

"Really."

John stared at him intensely for a moment. "Okay," he nodded, satisfied with what he saw, and walked back towards the kitchen. "Oh, I called Mycroft, by the way. Told him you'd be staying at my place for a few days. He said 'very well' and hung up."

"That sounds like him." Sherlock chuckled lightly, picking up his things following his best friend out.

xx

After a quick goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, the boys got into John's car – John in the driving seat and Sherlock in the passenger seat.

"Mary will be home tomorrow. She's staying over at Janine's," John said as he started driving, "Remember her, Sherlock, your fake fiancée?"

"Yes." The consulting detective shrugged, staring out of the window, "She can't still be annoyed about that. She got me back already."

"Well, you did deserve it, playing with her feelings like that... But I don't think Janine's angry anymore."

"Good." Sherlock smiled slightly, "So, why's Mary staying at hers then?"

"She said something about 'girl time'. She may have befriended Janine to get to Magnussen like you, but they really are friends."

"Hmm," Sherlock tilted his head, then looked away from the window because they just passed one of his drug stops. "Do, uh, do you mind if we stop here?"

John slowed the car, but didn't stop it as he raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and then at the pharmacy outside. "Why?"

"No reason. Just need to stop here." He couldn't really think of a good enough answer right now, as all he could think of was the drugs.

John looked like he could read his mind. "If you're thinking about drugs –"

"I'm not!" Sherlock cut in. "I just need to get out of the car."

Pursing his lips tightly, John parked the car and turned to face Sherlock. "I'll come with you."

Sherlock's head snapped to him in surprise. "What? No you won't."

"Why not?"

Sherlock took a breath and opened the door. "Because."

John frowned and then quickly got out of the car. "I'm not letting you go into a drug store alone."

Sherlock, who had stepped out of the car, looked at John. "John, please... It's not even the store I want to go into, it's the alleyway behind it. I'll be in there for two seconds, please."

"Even worse!" John said exasperatedly as he moved to stand before the detective, "Come on, Sherlock. If you want me to help you, you have to talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong!" He looked down at him. "I need these, John, I can't not have them!"

John grabbed Sherlock's arm lightly and nodded towards his car. "Alright. Back into the car."

"No, no." Sherlock shook his head, looking back at the alleyway then at the car then at John. "Please, I'm your best friend, I have to have them."

"Calm down, okay?" He led him back towards the car, "You have to come to my place first. Get settled, then we'll discuss this problem."

"I don't have a problem!" Sherlock almost yelled, but still followed him to the car, still subconsciously wanting to be helped.

"Yes, I know, mate," John opened the door of the car. "Get in."

Sherlock looked down at the open door for a moment, not wanting to get in but wanting to at the same time. He just looked at John hopelessly. The doctor seemed calm, but firm. He would not let Sherlock go to that alley, no matter what. Accepting defeat, Sherlock got in and John shut the door after him.

Once they were on the move again, John glanced at Sherlock from the corner of his eye. The consulting detective was staring straight ahead, his hands tightly clasped together in his lap. "Sherlock?"

He didn't respond.

John didn't expect him to respond, so he went on. "I know this is hard, but you are going to have to show some restraint."

Sherlock put his head in his hands, closing his eyes. "John. Please." He didn't really know what he was asking for, but he needed to be distracted by talking.

"Alright, let's just forget about this, okay?" John suggested, "Tell me about any clients you had over the last few days."

"Clients?" Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly, head still buried in his hands, "The last few days I've been high."

John resisted the urge to stop the car and strangle his best friend for being so stupid. "Okay..." Deep breaths, John. He needs your help, not your anger, he coached himself before continuing, "Um... deduce that woman for me."

"What woman?"

John nodded towards an old lady walking down the street. "That woman."

Sherlock took a glance at the woman, his focus clearly on his deduction. "Cancer patient. Only recently have her children bothered with her because they're hoping to get her estate once she dies but she thought one step ahead of them, it's all going to charity because she feels guilty about having an affair with her deceased husband who spent a lot of time with charity."

John nodded. "Okay, and what about that man over there?"

This went on the rest of the way until they reached John's house. John seemed content that Sherlock at least appeared to have forgotten about the drugs... at least for a while. He got out of the car, a small smile on his face. "We're home."

Sherlock got out of the car and looked up at the small house in the suburbs where the Watsons lived, knowing this will be his rehab until he gets his head straight.

There. How was it? Please let us know. Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)

Thank you for reading.