Chapter 1

"Is he going to be okay?" "John! John he isn't breathing." "He's losing too much blood what do we do?" "Only one thing left to do."

Going back to a couple months ago, five to be exact. Sherlock was in his flat doing his usual experiments using human fingers and fingernails. It has been a while since John, Mary, and the baby had visited him. He won't admit it, but he has been feeling lonely. That itself pissed him off. Of course, he did take this chance to get in touch with his homeless network and get stoned. "It just isn't the same." The solitary detective said out loud to no one in particular. He sat there in his dining room table, staring at his cigarette in one hand and a small slicing-knife in the other. He used to be desperate and longing for a case, but now he just wishes to have someone be with him.

Lestrade was too busy to even bother right now with all the paperwork and cases he was on. Molly was the only one who visited Sherlock every once in a while, but even Sherlock knew she was hurt every time she saw him in emotional pain. Mycroft would call everyday to check on his dear little brother to make sure he doesn't go insane from the silence in his flat. Anything and everything made Sherlock mad, depressed, laugh, and even cry in his flat. Soon, he began to have conversations with each of his different sides. "I don't need them. They're too stupid and dull for me anyways. They-they have a family now, how lovely. Haha and by lovely I mean worthless!" Sherlock walked around his flat scratching his curly raven colored head almost piercing his nails into his skull. He twitched from the pain, but continued to converse. "You're becoming just like him, Sherlock. You might as well live like them! Go ahead , show them how much better you are. That's right, YOU CAN'T! You're lonely and useless without that doctor aren't you? Pathetic." Sherlock now stared at himself in the bathroom mirror letting the hot water run and vapor cover some parts of the mirror and suffocating him at the same time. "I'm not weak, I'm not normal. I-I-I have a massive intellect. I don't even have friends, whose John? Haha Mary and Molly, who were they again? Oh I see, Mycroft must have just made them up." The water was now overflowing and burning on Sherlock's pale and skinny arms.

He didn't feel the pain, all the nicotine he's had made him go numb. His pale arms now turned red, and then skin had too drifted off with the flow. "You know you've changed now that you've been with those normal people. Admit it, Sherlock Holmes, YOU'VE BECOME DULL." Sherlock punched the mirror and had his fist there for a while. Red hot blood dripped from his fingers and arm down from the mirror to the sink turning the clear boiling water into a deep shade of red. "Shut up. Just shut up" At that moment, there was a loud sound at the door, but Sherlock didn't move from where he was. A short figure stood behind him and grabbed a hold of him tight and moved him away from the shattered mirror and running water. The door was locked so the man had to kick it down. "Sherlock, can you hear me? Are you in any serious pain? Just hang on, you're gonna be alright, kay? I'm right here, say anything at anytime." That voice sounded familiar to the hurt detective, but he didn't want to make any assumptions yet until he was certain. "Who're..you?" Words barely came out of his mouth but were enough for them to be heard. "It's okay Sherlock. Mary and I are here. Mrs. Hudson is here as well. You're brother told us to come. Do you remember me? It's John." With that, Sherlock was relieved of his doubts and fell asleep.

When Sherlock awoke from his slumber, he was at an unknown place. After using his deduction skills, he realized he was at St. Bart's hospital. His head hurt like hell and his arms and right hand were wrapped in bandages that were already stained with blood. He sat up to help him remember what had happened previously from arriving here. He tried and tried but couldn't remember. A knock at the door interrupted his thinking, and Lestrade came in. "Morning, or afternoon now." Sherlock was surprised to know how long he had been out. Last time he remembers being sober, it was almost midnight. "Lestrade, how long have I been asleep?" Asked a groggy Sherlock. " Three days, well four now. I only heard about you yesterday, but I was able to visit you today. I'm sure you've had other visitors." Sherlock looked around to find out for himself.

Next to him was a table with tulips and a note that was from Molly. Tulips were watered every day for the past three days. Bellow was a gift bag that contained scented candles and a "get well soon" teddy bear along with a card signed by the Watson family. Judging by the appearance, it was knocked down quite a lot by a small being, probably the baby trying to walk. The card was added recently and didn't come with the package itself at first. The bear was chosen by Mary and the child, John wrote in the card because of his handwriting. He received this about two days ago. The chair on his left was still warm and it seemed like someone was sitting there all night for the three nights he was out and this morning as well. The fact that only the tip of the chair was sat on and no back was touching, Sherlock assumed it could only be Mycroft to do such a thing. "Only everyone has visited." Sherlock mumbled. "May I ask what happened to you?" Sherlock stayed silent and didn't look like he was going to say anything soon, mostly because he still didn't remember what happened to his composure. "Well, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it or don't remember, but next time you're feeling down, don't hesitate to call me. I may seem like I'm busy, but I can always be there when you need help." Lestrade pulled the chair close to him and sat down next to Sherlock. "What're you doing?" Sherlock looked at him in confusion and only hurt his head more trying to move. "Sitting obviously. I'm not gonna leave you alone after you just woke up. I'm here if you're hungry or anything." Sherlock felt somewhat happy to finally have someone by his side. It's been awhile since he'd had that feeling. Lestrade even helped him change his bloody bandages and eat his food. At about nine o'clock at night, Sherlock was getting tired. Lestrade helped him lay down slowly so that his headache wouldn't be too strong. After that, he covered him and sat down as he waited for him to close his eyes. Sherlock was glad Lestrade was there, but secretly wished it could've been John instead.