Yippee! My first Sherlock fanfiction! And you know what? Yup, it's Johnlock :D As always I hope you will like it and sorry for my grammar mistakes, because I'm not native speaker, unfortunately...

Disclaimer: I don't owe a fall... Um wait, sorry - I don't own Sherlock :D erm, wait again... D:

Story: On Drugs Again
B: Mischel

It was almost dark outside. London was preparing for the night and so were almost all the people. Apart from John Watson. Mary was not tonight at home. He didn't know where she's gone, but she said she needed a while alone. And well, after what has John just found out about her, she would take a good care of herself. Even when she was pregnant.

So John Watson was sitting in his sofa, in his and Mary's flat, and he was bored. Really bored. He didn't know what to do. He tried to write his blog, but had no idea what to write about. And as he realized, Sherlock was right. He did miss all of their cases, the running and blood pumping in his veins. So in that moment, only one idea crossed John's mind-he will go and visit Sherlock. He just hoped, Sherlock wasn't doing anything stupid again.

He was hoping to see Sherlock after a long time. Well, it was about two weeks, but it felt so much longer than that. But unfortunately, when he finally reached his previous home - 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson told him that Sherlock was somewhere outside. John thought he was on some case again and hadn't told him about it, but when he heard from Mrs Hudson that she didn't hear Sherlock come back home yesterday, he got really worried about his friend.

He thanked his old landlady, and went into Sherlock's flat. The place was much bigger mess than he remembered. There were some cigarettes on the mantelpiece and old papers all over the table. Even a few unwashed clothes. John wondered if Sherlock always tidied up when he knew he was about to come to his flat, or if the state of the place has gotten so much worse in these two weeks because he didn't see Sherlock.

John decided to go to look for his friend. It wasn't usual that he didn't come home at nights. Even with all of his cases, he would come, late, but he would. So this time something had to stop him. John went out of the house, that kept so much memories of him and Sherlock inside. He wondered where Sherlock could have gone. And then something crossed his mind. What if Sherlock was on drugs again and was sleeping in that abandon house with lots of teens? Could it be? John really hoped it wasn't true, but he had to check it.

He took a cab and headed to that house. As soon as he reached that place, he went into that house and searched for Sherlock "Sherlock?" he called, but noone answered. So he ran upstairs, where he found Sherlock last time. He entered the big room. There was a few people, old and young, and in the distant corner was laying a tall person, covered with a few old blankets, with curly dark hair. John's eyes widened as he realized who it was.

"Sherlock!" he yelled and ran to his perhaps sleeping friend. He kneeled next to him and shook his shoulder a bit to wake him up.

"J-Jo ohn?" came a barely audible reply and John's eyes filled with tears. First time he saw Sherlock like this, he was upset. But this time he was rather sad and worried about his friend.

"Yes, it's me Sherlock," John whispered into Sherlock's ear. He put his curly hair aside, so he could see Sherlock's face. His detective was all dirty and it seemed as he was crying not so long time ago. John took one Sherlock's hand and tried to make him stand.

"John?" Sherlock smiled. "I k-knew you'd co-come." he seemed a bit out of sanity.

"Yes, I came and now it's time to get you home." John said and he managed to lift Sherlock, so he was a bit standing himself, and the other half of his body was almost laying on John. It was a miracle that John managed to get Sherlock out of that house and into their cab, that was still waiting there as John asked for, when he left. He opened the car's door and sat Sherlock inside. Then he sat next to him and said "221B Baker Street please." And the car started to move towards their - Sherlock's - home.

"Why?" John asked after a while, but Sherlock seemed he didn't hear him or just ignored him. He was sitting next to John, still looking at him as if he wasn't sure if John was even there. As if he thought John was a ghost, that only Sherlock Holmes could see. "Why were you there, Sherlock? Why again?" John asked once more and looked at Sherlock closer, so Sherlock could focus on him.

"I..." Sherlock started "why don't exist pink monkeys?" he asked instead of answering John's question. He looked as if he meant that completely serious, and as if it was a question, that could solve some unsolvable case.

"What?" John said, apparently only now getting that his friend was totally restless and probably hallucinating or something. So he gave up and just waited till the car finally gets to Sherlock's home.

"I mean," Sherlock continued with the case "Is it because they would be seen easily in the nature and other animals would eat them, or because they just like to be brown?" And his babbling continued all the way, until the car finally stopped and John opened the door to get him and Sherlock out. Once they opened the door to the house, Mrs Hudson turned the lights on and came to them.

"Oh, Sherlock," she started with worried voice "I was so worried about you, are you alright?" she asked and took Sherlock's hand.

"Maybe when the se-second cold war will begin and I got-get a cup of blue icecream." was Sherlock's answer, and then he just layed his head on John's shoulder and coughed a bit. Mrs Hudson looked at John even more worriedly than she looked a second ago and John just shook his head.

"He's on the drugs again, Mrs Hudson." John said and Mrs Hudson's eyes widened even more. "Don't worry," John said as he lifted Sherlock a bit and tried to catch him better "I'll take care of him, you can go back to sleep." Mrs Hudson nodded a bit.

"Oh, Sherlock," She whispered as she headed back into her flat. She wasn't happy to see Sherlock like this. She hoped he won't ever do that again, but she was afraid to tell John that Sherlock was on drugs more times in last few weeks than in one year when he was still living here with John. He probably never was on drugs like this before. Not before John married Mary. And John wouldn't be happy to know that his friend was on drugs that much since his wedding day.

John took Sherlock upstairs into his flat and sat him in the sofa. He closed the door and sat opposite of him on his old sofa as he used to, when he still lived there. He waited, but nothing happened. Sherlock didn't seem he wanted to talk at all. So John coughed a bit and asked again. "Why, Sherlock?" He hoped his friend was more capable of speaking now. Or at least a bit more than when he found him in that old abandon house.

Sherlock didn't answer. Instead his shoulders shook a bit and John noticed that his eyes started to fill with tears. Slowly the tears filled his eyes completely and they were streaming down his both dirty cheeks. Sherlock started to cry. It was the first time John has ever seen him crying. Him, the unemotional person. The consulting detective, genius and the wisest man he has ever had the chance to meet. But it was true. Sherlock started to cry.

John narrowed his eyes and asked quietly "Sherlock?" No answer, just sniffing and silent sobbing of his friend "Um... Sherlock why are you crying?" John asked. It was a stupid question, he knew, but he didn't know what to say. This was the first thing he thought of when he saw tears on his friend's face.

"Why am I crying?" Sherlock asked with a thick voice. It seemed like he suddenly wasn't on drugs at all, and still was in the same time. "Oh John, John, my John." Sherlock whispered "Why did you have to do it? Why did you have to marry Mary?" he asked.

"Wait, what... what do you mean?" John asked. He wasn't sure if he heard right.

"I can't stand it," Sherlock continued, ignoring his question completely, "You know you shouldn't have married her. I told you."

"Um, no... I think you didn't." John disagreed and looked at Sherlock. He was still crying.

"Of-f course I to-told you John," He said "I always tell you when John, the real John - my John, is gone." Now was John really confused. Sherlock once told him he is talking to him even when he's not at home. But this?

"Sherlock, I am the real John," he said carefully. Sherlock looked at him for the first time since they enered their house, with tears in his red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't be stupid, you're just another hallucination. I have had a few since you married her and left me here alone." Now Sherlock's voice cracked a bit and his shoulders started to shake more "I'm down... so so s-so down..." He whispered between his silent sobs "How could you have done this? How could you leave me alone, John? Why? Nothing will ever b-be the- the sa-same," Sherlock sobbed "I can't bear this distance. All alone in this flat." He sniffed again and wiped his tears away just to let the new ones to flow down "I- I lo-love you John..." he managed to say with shaking voice "I do lo-love you..."

John didn't know what to do. Sherlock just told him, he loves him. And what was even weirder was, that John wasn't much surprised. He somehow felt that Sherlock feels something more for him. And always when he thought about that, he somehow realized that he maybe feels something too. Something for Sherlock, more than an ordinary friendship. He kept telling himself that he wasn't a gay. But after what he was realizing everyday, he knew he's actually lying to himself when he says he's not.

John knew that he married Mary, and that he loves her, but he was well aware of the fact, that he felt something, and still feels for Sherlock. And when he saw him like this - crying his heart out, with all the tears on his face, and disoriented because of the drugs that took over his body, he didn't wait any longer and quickly came to Sherlock, took his chin up, so he could join their lips.

Suddenly, as if he realized something more, and he was kissing Sherlock helplessly, and as he felt, Sherlock was kissing him to. He knew he couldn't kiss Sherlock forever, because of the lack of oxygen, but he surely wanted to. It felt so much different than when he kissed Mary. It felt as if they just belonged to each other. As if the whole universe was waiting just for this to happen and now were all the alien races clapping their hands.

John felt Sherlock's curly hair, falling into his face, and he laughed against Sherlock's lips. He slowly pulled away and smiled fondly. Sherlock was just staring at him, his tears still apparent on his face. But instead of crying, he was smiling at John. His John.

"Told you I'm real," John whispered, and leaned in for another kiss, that Sherlock quickly accepted with a smile playing on his lips. It was that detective he knew again. John knew he was okay now. His friend. Sherlock.

His Sherlock.

*The End*

Did you like it? :) Please tell me what you think about my first Sherlock story :)