"Sherlock."
"Sherlock come on."
"Sherlock we have to talk about this," John sighed as he called out to his friend yet again. He had been trying to talk to Sherlock ever since the events on the airplane. The consulting detective had pointedly ignored him and John was becoming incensed. "Damnit Sherlock, you know I'm not going to let this go. We have to talk. You have to talk. My God, I need to talk about this," John pulled himself out of his seat and marched over to the curly-haired man before him.
The man in question was seated with his eyes held firmly shut and his fingers steepled before him. He drew in a long, heavy breath, looked out at his friend - the first man he had ever dared to call a friend - and shook his head of floppy curls. He would not talk about this. He knew that if he did it would only cause more strife for the ex-army doctor.
"What do you mean -" demanded John mimicking the shaking of Sherlock's head. "I'm not going to take, -" John demonstrated the action again, "as an answer." John took a step back and gathered himself for a moment. Then, set on a new tactic, he knelt down before the other man, ignoring the old twinge of pain, and carefully set his hands on his knees.
"Sherlock," he tried again, "I'm going to talk about this, whether you join me or not."
He glanced helplessly at the silent form before him before starting, "Sherlock, please don't do this to us. Please don't do this to me. I can't put up with a stunt like that again. Tell me if you ever feel that draw again. We just want to help you," but John was abruptly cut off when Sherlock's eyes snapped open and the man jumped up and began pacing around the room.
"You have no idea John. You are not understanding. I was not doing this for kicks. I did not overdose on cocaine because I love how it makes me feel. I did it for a case, John. I did it so I could end this thing with Moriarty," the man's rampage was ended as he sent a teacup, set precariously on the table, flying to the ground in one swing.
John, who had been gaping at the other man during his rant, pulled his thoughts together and began, "Sherlock, maybe just this once it was for a case. But you've scared me. I don't know that I can trust you anymore. How many times have you done this for other reasons. Don't get me wrong, I do not approve of overdosing for a case, but what about the other times. Has it happened, Sherlock?" John felt utterly helpless almost hoping the answer would be a simple no, but already preparing for the yes.
Sherlock glanced up through the hair covering his eyes and just nodded. That was all it took to cause John to drop to his seat and cover his face with his hands. Sherlock walked back over to his own chair and lowered himself into careful not to disturb his friend - would John even want to be his friend now - with the creaks of the old chair.
"How often?" Sherlock glanced up.
"How often, Sherlock?" John asked again.
"Once a week, maybe. Sometimes when a case has me stumped. Sometimes when I am bored and have had too long to think."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"Please come to me. I really just want to help," John looked over at Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded shortly. John looked over and could see the man fighting back the tears in his eyes. He had never seen this side of his friend before, he seemed so vulnerable, almost human. The ex-army doctor rose shakily and walked over to Sherlock. He knelt before him once again and pulled him into a tight embrace. For the first time in his life Sherlock allowed himself to lean into the embrace of another person and let himself cry. Because after all…
He would be lost without his blogger.