Some nights are tolerable, but some nights can turn into Sherlock's worst nightmare. He'd been clean for months now, but his mind still betrays him with thoughts that urge him to just do it one more time, but he tries so hard to ignore it. Sometimes he can, other times he has to find something to distract himself.

Tonight happened to be a bad night. He shut himself in his room and sat on his bed with his arms around his knees, trying to breathe through everything. John had left for work that morning and should be home any minute to pester Sherlock into eating takeaway.

At the sound of the front door slamming shut, Sherlock winced.

"Sherlock, are you home?"

He didn't answer. He was too caught up in his mind.

"Sherlock?"

He could hear John's footsteps get closer and closer to his room. When he knocked on the door, Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. His head is pounding, raging with thought after thought. Unable to take it anymore, he jumps from his bed and groans as he puts his hands over his ears.

John hears movement and decides to open the door. Upon seeing Sherlock in distress, he steps closer to him. Sherlock pulls away and whimpers.

"John, make them stop!"

"Make what stop?"

"The voices! Urging, always urging, won't shut up," he cries.

"Can I touch you? Is that okay, Sherlock?"

Sherlock pauses for a moment before nodding. John makes his move, placing his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

"Alright, I need you to breathe for me. Take deep breaths and let them out at the same time as me, okay? Put one hand on my wrist and just focus on my pulse."

Sherlock did as John instructed. About ten minutes later, Sherlock had calmed down enough to sit back down on the bed.

"There you go," John murmurs. "Just keep it up with the deep breaths until you've calmed down some more, then we can talk."

It took at least another ten minutes for him to relax enough to look at John.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispers.

"Don't be," John says. "Nothing to apologize for. Are you ready to talk, though?"

Sherlock nodded. "I was just sitting here, thinking about my experiment, when my thoughts turned into … that," he sighed. "John, I don't want to do it again. I don't, I can't!"

John listened with rapt attention and nodded in understanding when he finished talking. "Come with me," he said and held out a hand to help Sherlock stand.

He lead the way out into the kitchen and to the fridge. Opening the freezer, he took out a piece of ice.

"Hold that in your hand until it melts, or until the urge goes away. If you need another one, then just let me know. You can do as many as it takes."

Sherlock squeezed the hand that held the ice and sighed, his shoulders relaxing with every breath.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

"Of course," John smiles. "I'm always here to help."