So this is a very old story I found in an old notebook I would write in to pass time. I think I wrote this story back in season 1 and never got around to posting it, so here it is! It's a little different to how I usually write and given everything we now know about Sherlock and Watson, may seem a little OOC, but I really enjoyed finding and reading it and I hope you do to.
It's the pain that gets you.
The throbbing, numbing, life sucking, pain.
It's waking up not knowing if it's morning or night.
It's the darkness that surrounds you, always black, always cold.
It's the feeling of drowning when there is no water in sight. Like someone has their hands around your throat, holding you down under ice water.
Nothing is ever straight. Sometimes it feels like a hundred woodpeckers chipping away and only you can hear them.
Drugs helped.
They made the pain vanish.
They made the day spectacular.
Made my mind come alive.
Made the darkness colourful.
Drugs helped recreationally. As an addiction, drugs destroyed.
They made every breath feel like I was under water. The more I wanted to forget, the more I took, the deeper I fell until it was like I was viewing life from the bottom of a pool. Slow and blurry, where you can't quite make anything out but you can see enough to know time is passing by around you.
I lost the most basic of deduction skills, became useless to even the most tedious and elementary of cases.
My mother once called me a monster. A devil sent from below to haunt those on the righteous path. This was of course after I informed all members of my parents dinner party that she was sleeping with Uncle Theodore. Needless to say, I was enrolled in boarding school the very next day.
I suppose I did become a monster though. A hideous, disfigured creature that hides away from the world in their little safe haven.
It's what I did best. Well, second best.
And then it changed.
6 months ago, if you were to look inside my soul, there would be nothing but darkness and despair, like a fire had torn though me and taken out everything in its path.
Now I believe it could be different. Not by any conscious act of mine, but by the fierce determination of my new, and quite possibly only, real friend.
It's like she sees something inside of me that no one else can, believes in me like no one else ever has. She makes me feel alive and I trust her like I have no other.
I would be lost without her, and that very thought scares me.
I feel the darkness coming back sometimes, the drowning when I least expect it, but then it vanishes when I hear her voice. She has become my new addiction. The one thing I would brave a hurricane to get to.
She makes me want to be more than I am, more than I have ever been. I'm better with her by my side. A better man, better investigator, a better me.
It's quiet funny actually; I thought I could never live without drugs yet now I find I can't live without her.
I wonder how long it will take me to overdose on this new addiction. To force her to leave before I drown us both.
Perhaps when this time comes, I will have tamed my demons and will ask her to stay. Perhaps when this time comes, she may even stay.
