This was actually my first attempt at a Sherlock story. Based on Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss' Sherlock. WARNING:
contains explicit language
A lot of drug references
alcohol
JohnLock fluff
John walked up the stairs of 221B after coming back from the shops, plastic bags in hand. Panting, he opened the door to the living room, only to be greeted with a motionless Sherlock lying on his stomach on the floor.
John dropped the bags, the milk splitting and exploding all over the ground, and ran up to him, bending down and checking his pulse.
Slow. Very slow.
"Christ, Sherlock" John muttered as he flipped over the detective to get a clear look at his face. "What have you done!" John yelled at the unconscious man in his arms. He looked at the white ring around Sherlock's nostrils and the vomit around his mouth.
John had seen this before when he worked at the hospital: overdose.
He quickly looked around him, vomit next to the couch, pill bottles and white powder on the coffee table and needles and pills scattered on the floor. Cocaine powder, Ecstasy injection and pain killers: Overdose confirmed.
Why? Why had Sherlock gone and done this to himself? He's been clean for years! Or so John thought.
He crawled over to the table and looked at the labels on the pill bottles
"hydromorphone. Shit" John threw the empty bottle down and went back over to Sherlock; he'd usually have all the medical equipment at hand with nurses and doctors to help and guide him; but he was now alone in 221B, his unconscious friend in his arms and no one to help him; he had to act quick.
"C'mon Sherlock" His voice croaked in fear. He started shaking his shoulders slightly "Sherlock... Sherlock!" He shook a little harder.
John could feel his eyes beginning to well up with tears, "Don't. Leave me" he breathed. He brought Sherlock into a hug and slowly placed his lips onto Sherlock's forehead, kissing the sweaty skin of his best friend, "Don't you dare!" He shouted, tears dripping down his cheeks; his eyes puffy and red "You can't...I love you" be buried his face into Sherlock curly hair.
He quickly wiped his tears away and placed Sherlock back down before running into the kitchen, frantically opening every cupboard and draw looking for anything that could help him. "Nothing!" He slammed the fridge closed and ran straight into Sherlock's bedroom, opening every draw and cupboard he could find, "You must have something!" he yelled into the air.
John's eyes widened when he opened Sherlock's bed side table draw. "What?" He picked up the syringe and read the note next to it,
Naloxone.
About 0.4mg should do it -SH
He rushed back to Sherlock's side in the living room, picking up the scotch bottle from the plastic bag on the floor and soaking the corner of his shirt in it.
He undid Sherlock's buttons and took the purple shirt off as quickly as possible. He noticed the small injection holes on his upper forearms and sighed, "You complete idiot" he muttered as he rubbed the alcohol from his shirt onto Sherlock's upper arm and placed the needle onto the skin, slowly poking through and injecting the Naloxone into the deltoid muscle.
He then pulled out the syringe, throwing it on the ground and placing both his hands on Sherlock's chest, pumping down on it multiple times, muttering "One. Two. Three" as he did.
He then blocked Sherlock's nose and breathed into his mouth and repeated it again.
John couldn't help it; the tears started coming back and slowly dripped down his cheeks and fell onto Sherlock's pale face.
It was only for a few minutes, but to John it felt like forever, but finally, to John's relief, Sherlock opened his eyes ever so slightly, looking back into John's red ones.
John saw Sherlock's eyes open and stopped what he was doing; he leaned back and he started crying heavier, not sure whether it was from the fear of losing Sherlock or the happiness that Sherlock was now awake and conscious.
It took Sherlock a little bit, but he eventually sat up, leaning against the settee, panting. Neither one of them looked at each other, both of them sitting on the ground in silence and looking at the floor of vomit, pills, needles and milk.
"I'm sorry" Sherlock broke the silence, he didn't mean for everything to end up the way it did.
John's head snapped up to look at Sherlock, rage in his eyes; "You're... Sorry?" John shook his head and stood up, looking down at the battered Sherlock "You have no idea how much I went through in the past 10 minutes and all you can say is you're 'sorry'!"
He sat back down on the ground, thoughts whizzing through his head for a few minutes;
"How long have you been doing this?" He asked, looking at Sherlock.
Sherlock knew his answer was going to upset John and was hesitant to answer, but did anyway. "Two weeks after you moved in", Sherlock was ready for another lecture.
"Two Weeks? You've been doing this for about 7 months!" John yelled.
It was Sherlock's turn to start tearing up, his eyes looking into John's, "I'm sorry John. I've been doing it when you went to work. I am so sorry, you have to forgive me! I only did it because-" Sherlock cut himself off, he didn't want to say any more; he looked back to the vomit mixing with the milk on the floor.
John edged closer to Sherlock, his eyes narrowed "'Because' what? Why did you start?" he asked, he was a few feet away from Sherlock.
Sherlock took a deep breath, "Because... Because of 'feelings' John. I started getting feelings I've never had before and I was scared! I was scared, John!" He shuffled over to John and hugged him tight, his face dug into John's chest, not wanting to look at John's expression, but just wanted to be next to him.
Both of them sat together on the floor, limbs wrapped around each other, comforting one another; both of them calming down.
Sherlock looked up at John, "The feeling... It-" He didn't know how to go on.
John gave Sherlock the slightest hint of a smile, and Sherlock decided to tell him.
"It was love"
John's smile grew a little, and he placed a hand in Sherlock's sweaty hair, guiding him back onto his chest and he kissed the top of his head.
They both hugged each other tightly. "Sherlock, don't ever scare me like that again. I don't know what I'd do without you... I love you, Sherlock"
Sherlock smiled into John's shirt, "I- I love you, John" he mumbled, though John heard it.
John lifted Sherlock's head so it was facing him and placed a slight kiss onto his lips.
"Do you want to make us a cup of tea while I clean this up?" He nodded towards the mess on the floor.
Sherlock smiled; "I would, but we don't have any milk" They both looked at the milk on the floor and giggled.
"How about I take you out for some tea instead?" Sherlock offered.
"Are you asking me out on a date, Mr Holmes?" John asked in pretend shock.
Sherlock thought for a bit, "I believe I am, Dr Watson"
They both slowly stood up, John helping Sherlock and headed for the stairs, Sherlock grabbing his shirt and putting it on before leaving.
All the way to the cafe, Sherlock and John held hands, not caring that they had puffy eyes or were sweaty.
"Thank you, John" Sherlock gave John's cheek a quick kiss before placing his head on John's shoulder as they walked.
"I'd be lost without my blogger..."