This story is rated T for language, drug references, gore, and some mentions of suicide. I do not own the characters or the world they live in (that honor goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss), but I do own what happens to them in the following chapters. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy.
Re: John
With all due respect, I think you might be worrying too much. I think he was seeing a therapist before he ever met Sherlock-for his limp or something. I don't think it's bad that it's come back, either, because if what you're saying is true it only went away when he or someone else was in danger or they were on a case together, neither of which could have been good for him. And if you ask me he just needs to settle down, which he's been doing. I mean, the poor bugger came back from the war with PTSD and probably depression as well, so this is…well not good for him, but I don't really think he'd depressed, either. He didn't seem very depressed last Friday when you met up for drinks, right? There are all sorts of reasons he could have a prescription for Prozac. He's a doctor.
In short, you're worrying too much. It's been three years, we've all gotten over it. There's no reason to keep bringing up the past. He has nothing to feel guilty about and neither do you.
-Sally Donovan