Disclaimer: I am very dyslexic so mind the spelling.
I am so proud of this one please please please let me know what you think.
"No, suicide, nope, anuther suicide, No! For Christ sake why do people kill them selfs it's so boring, go bloody kill someone else but make an effort."
Sherlock practically screamed out a bit of his sole wile flipping through the news papers with absolutely no murders. The crime rate for the whole of England was at an all time low and Sherlock unlike the rest of the country couldn't be anymore upset about it.
Sherlock looked up to see lestrade staring at him with his eyes wide open one eyebrow higher the the other, his mouth hanging open.
"Why the hell would you say that Sherlock? I'm in the bloody room."
"So what does it matter, John's out and I need some to listen when I rant."
"Well," lestrade said wile standing up from Sherlock's desk, leaving his drink that was nearly finished behind.
"I gess I'll off be then, happy I could keep you company during your fit."lestrade said flipping his coat on and leaving.
"Goodbye Greg."Sherlock said as the door of 221B slammed shut.
As Sherlock flipped through the papers his hart started to race faster and faster, the more he thought about his boredom the harder and harder it got for him to breath.
"Hart attack" his mind thought as he crumbled up the paper and threw it in no particular direction.
"No no no I can't think straight maybe my mind palace needs rearranging." Sherlock sat back and inhaled one deep breath. Drifting off to his mind palace as he brought his hands to his lips and shut his eyes.
Sherlock ran through his palace franticly searching for anything out of place. He stumbled over random memories that were where they were supposed to be. Then he came across it, in the kitchen of his mind palace there was a gaping hole of nothing. Something was slowly eating his mind.
"Mycroft ,"
Sherlock herd John's voice Break through the barrier of reality, and mind palace and pulled Sherlock into the gray space between the two. John was on the phone with Mycroft.
"Yes, he's been like this for two days."
Sherlock usually loses track of time when he's in his head but has it really been two days?
"Are you going to tell me how to get him out… why, well because it's scaring me he hasn't eaten in a long time."
Sherlock wanted to yell out "I'm here John!" but His body didn't even move. And it was getting harder and harder to think and breath. "Am I going to die in here?" he wondered.
"Well Mycroft could he die if he got stuck?"
"Good job John stick to what's important." Sherlock was very content on what he tought John.
"I don't know let me check."
Sherlock Heard John start to walk around the flat opening and closing drawers. "Shit John, don't look through my stuff." Sherlock knew exactly what John was doing, searching for drugs. Sherlock wanted to jump up and tackle John as soon as he heard John walk over to where he kept his drugs.
"Shit, yes Mycroft he has. Why would he do this?"
"I got really bored one day, no one is killing anyone!" Sherlock wanted to go kill someone him self but that would prove what Donovan right, o and his body isn't working at the moment!
"Hang on,"
Sherlock felt John's hand on chest his chest his worm touch pulled Sherlock closer and closer to the real world.
"Holey shit, he's not breathing!"
Sherlock didn't even notice he had stopped breathing, his body is now starting to shut down the virus in Sherlock's head must be causing it. But John's worm hand on Sherlock's cold hollow body was pulling him out of harms way.
"Sherlock! Can you hear me!? Sherlock lesson to me take a breath?! Sherlock!"
"Damit john if I could I would!"
Then with one touch of John's hand to Sherlock's face it pulled Sherlock out of the gray-space between the two worlds.
Sherlock's eyes shot open, he threw himself forward out of his chair and onto his hands and knees. He breathed in every bit of air that he could filling his once empty lungs. Sherlock broke out into a coughing fit making it a little bit harder to breath in.
"Sherlock are you alright?" John said kneeling onto the floor next to Sherlock. He placed his had on Sherlock's back in a attempt to calm him down.
"John, I-I-I can't, help, breath,John!" Sherlock huffed gathering any words that came to his shrinking mind. Sherlock was clawing at his own throat as if trying to pull at a invisible rope rapped around his neck, choking him.
"Sherlock,shhhh, Sherlock look at me focus on me."
As John pulled Sherlock's face up to look at him Sherlock's panicked face filled with tears and terned bright red.
"Sherlock look at me and breath. In, out, in…" John's attempts were clearly unsuccessful as Sherlock's face now started to tern purple. John then sat behind the struggleing man and layed him on his chest
"Mimic me Sherlock."
Sherlock's body raise and lowered as John breath in, and out. Sherlock gasped in a little bit of air but that was it. John grabbed Sherlock's hand and held it resting both of there hands on John's chest. John did the same with their other hands but layed them on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock mimicked the rise and fall of John's chest. Slowly but shurely Sherlock stabilized.
With tears still streaming down Sherlock's face he looked up at John, pulled both of their hands down to his own chest and ascked with a scared expression.
"What the hell just happened to me?"
"Well Sherlock, I think you had a panic attack."
"John I got stuck, I was so scared I-" Sherlock was cut off by john.
"Shhh, it's ok your ok now." John pried away one of his hands from Sherlock's and placed it in the scared mans hair. He wove his fingers through his dark curls and leaned back on Sherlock's chair.
Sherlock loosened his grip as he drifted into a black sleep. John's head layed back against Sherlock's chair and the two men softly drifted off into there own sleep on the floor of 221B.
Let me know if I should carry on or not.
If you are reading this what ever story gets the first comment for me to continue then I will do so (3 story's are the competition)