Things Will Be Alright.
John returned to the flat after his two week trip and was hit by the silence. It was never this quiet when Sherlock was home, which he clearly was; his jacket was still hung in the hall. an uneasiness crept over John as he entered the living room. Where was Sherlock?
He turned down the hall to their bedroom (Yes theirs, for over a year it had been. Not much had changed in their relationship in that time other than the now added bonus of sex, which was fantastic.) But still, where was Sherlock? John walked by the bathroom then paused and went back. The door was shut. They never kept the door shut. John knocked on the door.
"Sherlock?" he called. No answer. John tried the handle, it was locked. He called again, "Sherlock!"
"Go away, John."
"Not likely Sherlock, now open the door."
"John, please, go away."
"Sherlock, you either let me in right now or I'm breaking down the door."
There was no answer. "Right then." John pulled back a leaned all his weight against the door. It took three tries before the lock broke and the door gave way. John entered, and there on the floor, arm strapped, needle in hand sat Sherlock.
To say he looked terrible would be an understatement. His pale skin had a gray tint to it, his eyes were bloodshot with heavy dark circles under them from lack of sleep, his dark curls were unkempt and he shook in his rumpled clothes which looked as if they had been worn for days.
John took in the sight before him. "Oh Sherlock." he breathed. Sherlock looked up at him with defeated eyes.
"Stop me." he said his voice rough and cracking.
John rushed to him grabbing the needle from his hands and disposing of its contents before breaking it and throwing it in the waste bin. He returned to Sherlock to remove the tourniquet. He pulled Sherlock to him and held him. Sherlock sighed and his body sagged. John pulled him closer. They stayed like that for minutes, hours, who knew. Finally John pulled back and gazed at the broken man before him.
"Come let's get you in the shower." He helped Sherlock to stand and began removing his soiled clothes. He sat Sherlock on the side of the tub as he ran the shower and removed his own clothes. Helping Sherlock into the shower he maneuvered him under the hot stream and ran his fingers through his hair. Sherlock closed his eyes as John began to wash him, gently trying to remove the pain.
As John washed Sherlock he took note of every part of his body, looking for any sign of track marks. He was pleased when he found none. That meant Sherlock hadn't given in yet, despite having been so obviously close to doing so.
John finished washing him and the left the shower. Wrapping Sherlock in a towel he then led him to their bedroom where he proceeded to dress him in clean pajamas. Sherlock let John move him as the warmth of his favorite pajamas settled into his skin, all the while never saying a word or making eye contact. It wasn't until they were in bed with John's arms wrapped around him did he let himself fall apart. Something he only ever let John see, and not often.
Sherlock made no sound but the hot tears soaking John's shirt and the slight shaking of Sherlocks thin frame gave him away. John pulled him into a tighter embrace. After a moment he spoke.
"Why?" was all John said.
"I couldn't think. Everything was too loud. I tried everything to calm it but nothing worked."
"You could have called me."
"You were busy dealing Harry, I didn't want to burden you."
"Sherlock, I'm you boyfriend. It's my job to be there when you need me. Maybe talking would have helped." John lay there quietly for a few minutes. "You know drugs aren't the answer, right?"
Sherlock sighed, "I knew you'd say that."
"Well, it's true. Remember what a dark place you were in the last time. You worked so hard to quit and get out of that place. I was so proud of you and you've been doing so well."
Sherlock sniffed, "You're mad at me?"
"No, not mad. Sad maybe, worried definitely. I don't want you to have to turn to that. You need to find something else that will help and not hurt you."
"You help."
"Then use me. The next time you feel this way find me, call, text whatever. But find me. I promise it's not a burden to me. I love you," he leaned down and kissed Sherlock on the top of the head. "I'd do anything for you. But, you have to promise not to buy any more drugs. I don't want to see you with another needle in your hand, ok?"
Sherlock nodded. They lay quiet, both thinking about what had been said. Sherlock turned his head toward John, "I love you too you know. I know I'm not very good at saying it, but I do."
"I know. And you do tell me, but better you show me all the time."
"How about I show you right now?"
John grinned, "I could be persuaded," and he leaned down and kissed Sherlock softly saying so much more than words ever could. 'yes' thought John things would be alright.