John entered the door at Baker Street after being away for a conference and walked up the stairs to the living room. He glanced around and sat down in his chair.
Sherlock came out of the bathroom shortly after.
"Oh, hello John." Sherlock said.
John gave Sherlock a disapproving look, but Sherlock only stared back and walked to his own chair.
"So, do you have the flu or something?" John asked while reading an article in the newspaper.
Sherlock answered affirmitively and wrapped the blue robe more tightly around himself.
"Need anything from the shop?"
"No, thanks."
"Has Mrs Hudson given you anything?"
Sherlock shook his head.
John skipped over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Ugh!" "What…was that?"
"Just an experiment." Sherlock stated as if it was the most common thing in the world.
"Had the time and energy for that did you?"
Sherlock gave John a cheeky smile. "Always, John."
John picked up the newspaper where he had left it and sat down in his chair again.
"You could have at least cleaned up."
After skimming the abstract of an article about a recent cabinet reshuffle John realised that it had become awfully quiet.
Sherlock was fast asleep in his chair. He was even snoring slightly.
John was struggling between wanting to put a blanket on him and being afraid of waking him.
Sherlock's phone rang all of a sudden. He woke up and searched for it somewhere along the sides of the chair cushion. When he found it he immediately declined the call. "Ugh, Mycroft..."
"Called you a lot these past few days has he?" John asked.
"You know about my brother's concern."
Sherlock's voice was more husky and deep than usual.
John's phone rang shortly after. He sighed and walked into the kitchen. "Yes, he's here…..Yes, I think so…Not that I'm aware of…..No…."
As soon as John put his phone down, Sherlock stood up and his robe danced around him. He strode towards John a few steps before he turned the other way. "Mycroft!" He muttered to himself while striding back and forth.
John went to his room upstairs and came back down.
"Good luck on your date tonight, John."
"I should be used to your deductions by now. What gave me away?"
Sherlock grinned before he lifted one of his arms to gesticulate.
"Obvious, really."
John rolled his eyes, but listened as usual.
"You only spend this amount of time on yourself when you are meeting someone for a first date. You ironed your shirt, and the crease which has been there for quite some time, is no longer there. You bought new pants, which is a shade darker than the other slightly used pants you have in your possession. Newly polished shoes and you got some of it on one of your fingers, which you might want to rub off before the date. Your lips move in a way which suggests that you not only brushed your teeth, but also flossed. Infrequent flossing can cause temporary discomfort." Sherlock pointed as he explained.
"Right. Fine."
John looked through the pockets of his jacket to see that he had everything he needed before going outside.
"Not any cases at the moment then?"
A soft thud followed by footsteps was heard, and Mycroft appeared in the doorway. He strode slowly towards Sherlock and John and stopped when he was an arm's length away. "Hello, dear brother. You know what your unresponsiveness does to me."
"Well, you like to keep track of your siblings. I...am...here." Sherlock said the last three syllables theatrically while looking away.
Mycroft pursed his lips. "If I thought you were fine, I wouldn't have come."
"You should have saved yourself the trouble, brother dear." Sherlock said almost inaudible.
Mycroft looked down at his cane. "I am just trying to be a good brother."
Sherlock huffed.
Mycroft bent down and whispered "I don't need to ask you to give me a list do I?"
"I haven't had any stimulants or opiats! Not even a case!"
Mycroft straightened up and gave John a stern look. "Apologies for not believing you brother, but you do have an affinity for malingering."
Sherlock lifted his hand. "Maybe the tremors in my hand will convince you."
Mycroft studied it intensely. "Ah, yes. I'll be in touch."
Mycroft glanced at Sherlock one more time before he walked out of the living room and down the stairs.
"He can't possibly in any way be mad at me for going away for a few days?" John exclaimed rather agitated.
Starting to take a turn for the worse, Sherlock managed to say "You'd be surprised. Or actually maybe not" before he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
"I should have known you didn't have the flu. Why didn't you tell me it was abstinences?"
Sherlock groaned and took a breath. "Because I'm embarrassed, John. I hate being a drug addict. I mean I like the thrill of it and the wonderful cooperation of dopamine, endorphine and serotonin. It just makes the rest of the world and life seem so much more difficult and boring."
He crawled into a ball, and when the wave of abstinence had faded a litte he continued.
"When I take drugs it's like I see colors that I can't see anywhere else and when I stop taking them everything feels gray, black or white with an occational visit from sepia. I feel so unique when taking drugs and it's almost like living in another dimension where time has a different pace. You feel unique in an extraordinary way and not like an isolated freak."
He paused again and raised himself up.
"But the downsides are that you loose touch with reality if you take drugs to often and when you stop taking them you realise that the world hasn't stopped. People have been hurt by you and moved on with their lives. They don't count on you for support anymore. And it makes it difficult to remember things. Things people tell you that are not bound up in your addictions."
Sherlock tried to stand up and walked to the sofa. He lay down on his back and inhaled and exhaled in a certain rhythm.
John had tears in his eyes. "You've never told me this before."
Sherlock took two more breaths before replying. "I'm sure you feel the same way about the thrill you need from dangerous situations. When the adrenaline rushes through your veins."
A tear ran down John's face. "It's just that I wanted to make a difference during the war. But I could never imagine what it would be like. When you are in the battle field you don't doubt or think much, you just act and do what you need to do. It was almost like a primal instinct driving you through everything. It felt so natural. I guess that's what I hate the most. That the war felt so natural. And when I had to retire I couldn't deal with the fact that you have so much more time to think and choose and be quiet in ordinary everyday life. I didn't have a drive anymore. I didn't know what to do. I really missed having an internal instinct giving me directions. You really do feel more alive if you are surrounded by death somehow."
Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at John. "You've never told me that either."
"Well, I guess we are just two junkies trying to live an ordinary life in an extraordinary way."
Sherlock smiled. "I'm afraid so."
He turned to the other side and raised his knees up to his chest.
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you, Sherlock?" John asked.
"No...just...nothing."
Mrs Hudson knocked ligthly on the door by the stairs. "Yoo hoo."
"Oh. Hi, Mrs Hudson." John smiled.
"How was the trip, John?"
"Fairly good. Yeah."
Mrs Hudson walked around the flat carefully lifting objects and putting them back into place. "That's nice."
She walked through the kitchen while shaking her head and opened the fridge.
"No, don't!" John exclaimed.
"Oh dear."
She closed the door of the fridge and walked back to John. "I'm making tea. I'm sure it will be enough for all of us."
"Oh, you don't have to do that."
Mrs Hudson folded her hands. "Don't be silly, John. I'll bring it up in a minute."
Sherlock had fallen asleep again and this time John put a blanket on him. The tremors had become worse and if Sherlock was sleeping, his brain could at least be cleaned naturally by the cerebrospinal fluid.
Mrs Hudson came back with a tray containing three plates filled to the brim. "Cottage Pie."
She put one of the plates in front of John.
"Oh dear. I don't like the look of him." She nodded towards Sherlock.
"I think we'll just let him sleep for now." John said through a mouthful.
Mrs Hudson sat down to eat with him. "I hope you don't eat like that on a date."
"No, Mrs Hudson."
He cleared his throat. "Thanks again for this."
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, and when nothing was left on their plates Mrs Hudson gathered them together on the tray.
"I'll save this for when he wakes up."
The rest of the evening went by rather uneventful.
John went on his date, and came back.
It was just one ocurrence where Sherlock cried "John!" right before John was going upstairs for the night.
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"John!" Sherlock cried again, making John march to the sofa.
"Yes, Sherlock, I'm here. What is it?"
Sherlock didn't respond.
"I'm sorry you have to go through this. Do you want me to see if I have anything in my satchel that can ease the symptoms a little?"
Sherlock moved and whispered. "I have to go through it like this."
"What do you mean?"
When Sherlock was unresponsive for the second time, John said "I'll be upstairs if you need me." and went to bed.
The next morning John woke up to the feeling of his left hand twitching.
"Already?"
He got dressed for work and walked down to the kitchen to find tea and toast from Mrs Hudson.
Sherlock sat in his chair and was holding a cup with both hands while he took frequent, but small sips.
"How are you feeling?" John said.
"Better than yesterday." Sherlock answered.
"Well, you certainly look better."
John fetched his jacket and satchel.
"I'm at the last stage now, John."
"Last stage?"
John looked concerned.
"Of this withdrawal. I threw up several times during the night and I had more than one dream about us going on cases."
John sighed in relief. "Oh...yeah..I thought you were terminally ill or something."
"Always the medical man."
John chuckled. "See you."
Mrs Hudson must have heard Sherlock walking about again, because it didn't take long before she came up with the left overs from yesterday.
Sherlock ate every last bit of it.
"It's nice to see you finally finding your appetite, young man." She said cheerfully.
"Thanks, Mrs Hudson."
And as the housekeeper she claimed not to be, she carried everything down without further ado.
Lestrade visited after work for an update.
"I'm sorry for not having any cases for you, Sherlock. It's never gone this long without needing your help. It's like the cases solve themselves somehow. So that's that. I've even checked with the other divisions, but there's just a negative response."
"It's ok, Greg."
He emphasised Lestrade's first name.
"I've gotten over the worst. Just let me now if something turns up."
Lestrade smiled and his eyes sparkled. "Yeah, I will. Cheers."
John was coming up the stairs with two completely full grocery bags just as Lestrade walked down the stairs.
"Alright, John?"
John nodded. He made his way to the kitchen and tried to put the fridge items on a shelf without experiments, but had to put the eggs a little bit to close to a glass containg a dodgy absinth colored substance.
"Pizza, ok?"
He started to open the pizza carton before Sherlock had the chance to reply. He turned on the oven and took out the rack.
"Let me do that." Sherlock interjected and came over to the kitchen counter.
"Decided to help have you?"
John put the pizza on the baking sheet and placed it in the middle of the oven, following the instructions on the pizza carton. John paced back and forth waiting for the pizza to be ready.
"Why does it take so long?"
"I think you are starting to enter the first stage of abstinences, John." Sherlock sighed.
"I'm fine."
Sherlock glared at John. "Please listen to me. You always get this agitated and impatient when we haven't been on a case for quite some time. Just let it happen and maybe you can get through the stages like I did."
John glared back. "You are not telling me that you're not an addict anymore? That you've succesfully gone through some sort of rehab?"
Sherlock sighed. "I know it's difficult to believe. And there is always the chance of relapse, but I've never gotten this far. I always found substitutes and traded one addiction for another, but not this time."
John was so tense now that his hands looked like fists, ready to punch. "Sorry for not believing you at the moment."
Sherlock went to check on the pizza.
"I understand."
He started to open it, but John sprinted and beat him to it.
They finished their pizza, and Sherlock could only manage to say "Shower." before he grabbed clean clothes from his room and then walked fast into the bathroom.
When he came out of the bathroom he had an entirely different aura.
He was much more calm and relaxed and the thought of reading or playing the violin the rest of the night without having a case to think about didn't terrify him.
After Sherlock had read as much as he could without checking up on John, he asked John to walk back and forth a few times.
"Why?" John asked. "I'm not in the mood for you to make me look ridiculous right now."
"No, it's not that. Never mind."
Sherlock observed John when he needed a beer from the fridge.
"Your walk is still fine."
"Thanks." John said sarcastically.
Sherlock put his leather bookmark where he had stopped reading, and walked over to his violin instead.
"Which song do you want me to play?"
"Doesn't matter. Play whatever you like."
Sherlock played through his usual repertoire and could for the first time in an eternity really listen to the music and be completely absorbed by it.
He had never enjoyed playing this much before because he had never played for fun.
It was always because he needed to learn new songs or compose to give himself brain work.
It was almost meditative.
He was so into his playing that he didn't hear Molly coming for a visit.
John and Molly started chatting, and finally Sherlock realised that another voice was in the room.
"Oh hello. Didn't hear you there."
"That was really beautiful. Did you learn new techniques? I think I've heard the songs before, but they seemed so different somehow." Molly said with stars in her eyes.
"Just the same old songs as I've always played them."
He put the violin down.
"How are you, Molly?"
"Oh, I'm great. I've met someone. He is kind, warm and he is very well behaved. He doesn't look anything like you."
She stopped talking abruptly. "Oh no, sorry. I don't know why I said that."
John glanced around the room and went to the loo. Sherlock only smiled.
"I'm glad that you are happy. You deserve all the happiness in the world."
Molly smiled back. "Thanks. It means a lot coming from you."
"Molly" Sherlock said. "You are wise, kind, loyal and brave." "You are a wonderful person and anyone would be lucky to have you."
Molly still felt a bit weak in the knees when she looked at Sherlock, but she no longer wished for them to be an item. Her new boyfriend made her so happy that she could finally move on.
Sherlock and Molly had been through too much together to not be in each other's lives, but at least the friendship was more equal now. Sherlock was almost never rude to her anymore, or immediately apologised if he was. He also said thank you more frequently.
Molly put her mittens back on. "I have to go now. Night shift. See you later".
Sherlock sat down to read again. He wasn't very tired.
John on the other hand, had to go and sleep for work in the morning.
John woke up several times during the night and finally had to admit to himself that he wanted to solve cases asap. He struggled trough the rest of the night and bought a cup of coffee on the way to work.
The day at the clinic moved slowly and when he came back to the flat he lay down on the couch.
Sherlock wasn't there.
John managed to make some tea and eat it, before he lay back down. He didn't fall asleep, but felt waves of anger and frustration.
Suddenly two take away boxes appeared close to his face.
"Hungry?" A deep voice John recognised as Sherlock's asked.
"Just had tea."
"Oh."
Sherlock still wasn't used to his increased appetite, and ate half of John's food as well.
He put the rest in the fridge, without letting it get cold.
"John, how are you?"
Sherlock recognised this all to well.
"Which stage?"
John glanced over his shoulder, seemingly a bit more aware than Sherlock had been.
"I don't know. I just know I want to punch someone or something."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Mycroft" They said in unison.
They both stared until Mycroft appeared in the doorway.
"Hello boys"
He strode over to Sherlock. "Has it been successful?"
Sherlock pouted. "Make your deductions."
"Well, there is a bit more colour to your cheeks, and your face seems slightly more round. The jawline is not as prominent as before. I would dare to say yes."
John had raised himself up to a sitting position and moved towards Mycroft on slightly unsteady steps. "Please explain."
"As you know, Sherlock has not had a case for a... fortnight now is it? The reason for that is because I told him that he couldn't get anymore cases until he succesfully abstained himself from any kind of recreational substances." "We will not have another incident where you overdose will we Sherlock? Your gifts are too valuable for that."
He gave Sherlock that condescending stare only he could before he continued. "Do you think Scotland Yard can solve all the cases themselves? Do you think your clients can figure out what happened in their most desperate situations instead of coming here?"
"But Lestrade said they had managed to solve more cases themselves." John interjected.
"I have connections everywhere, John. Surely you must know that by now. I gave them little clues on how to solve cases through those connections."
John couldn't keep his rage bottled up anymore and huffed.
Mycroft sighed. "It was necessary. I can't let Sherlock be so in need of...drugs anymore. I also needed him to be off cases, so he could get a fresh approach and angle once he started taking cases again. Otherwise the risk of relapse would be too severe."
Mycroft suddenly felt a sharp pain in his nose and his eyes watered. He immediately closed his nostrils with his left thumb and index finger.
Sherlock tried to stifle a laugh.
"It was necessary." John said and massaged his knuckles.
"Oh, bugger. How am I to get the blood of my shirt and waistcoat. I have a meeting today and I'm in no means presentable."
"Try hydrogen peroxide." Sherlock answered, grinning.
Epilogue:
John eventually managed to go through all the stages of abstinence just as Sherlock had and felt more relaxed and calm once it was over. He wasn't as bored at work since he didn't need excitement and thrill as much as before.
He had finally adjusted as well as he wanted to everyday life without missing the war.
John and Sherlock still solved cases as they always had, but they took the time to eat and do other things during the less pressing cases, as they took more of the cases that would be classified as boring in their earlier days.
There was also more downtime between cases now, but Sherlock spent some of those hours and days giving free violin lessons to underpriviliged children.
John had joined the red cross and voluntered.
He also taught CPR to the other volunteers.
John and Sherlock. 221B Baker Street. Where the door is always open.