Drugs Bust

It was Mycroft who had found out, or at least, Mycroft's underlings found out when they were researching the background of John Watson. Years ago one severely underweight twenty five year old had been rushed into hospital. Drug abuse of some sort had been suspected by the doctors who had treated him, but they had never proved it and so once the twenty five year old had been nearing healthy again he had been sent on his way.

Sherlock and Lestrade stared at the photo of the emaciated John and wished they hadn't seen it, even Sherlock who normally ate up the chance to know everything. He even forgot to complain about his brother invading every aspect of his life.

"Think about it," said Sherlock eventually, "that first day. The first case, the drugs bust, despite all the evidence, and John's a logical person, to an extent, John refused to believe I was a junkie until I told him to shut up, do you remember?" Lestrade nodded. At the time he had thought John was ridiculously naïve and wondered where Sherlock had got him from, why Sherlock was dragging John around with him and how long John would last.

"John's also the type of person to automatically trust the police, especially over someone like me, who, at that point, he'd only just met the day before, but he couldn't handle the thought that his potential new flatmate was a drug addict and so he subconsciously refused to see reality. At the time I didn't see how out of character it was for him because I didn't know him, and I was concentrating on the case. Stupid! I had deduced so much about him, I should have seen, why didn't I see?"

Lestrade wanted to tell Sherlock that it wasn't his fault for not noticing, he couldn't deduce everything, but he knew Sherlock wouldn't accept it. Besides, Sherlock was clearly working himself up into one of his hundred miles an hour deductions, and it was best to stand back as Sherlock started pacing back and forth.

"But why? Substance abuse of any kind is certainly not something John would do now; he doesn't even smoke, he even disapproves of more than one nicotine patch at a time. He drinks, but not to large extents. His sister's an alcoholic, that would most likely affect his level of drinking; he obviously doesn't like his sister's drinking. It also increases the likelihood that addiction was a family trait if both children were addicts; therefore if he grew up with addicts he was more likely to become an addict himself. His sister would also be another reason why he might be upset at the idea of living with an addict. So, possible family connection."

Sherlock stopped pacing and steepled his fingers in his typical 'thinking pose' "Perhaps … it's something to do with the fact that John's an adrenaline junkie-"

"Really? Adrenaline junkie?" Lestrade interrupted; John always gave off the impression of being gentle, sensible, quiet and in control: the antithesis to Sherlock and what Sherlock needed to keep him in line. Though, when he thought about it, it made sense. John had been a soldier, and then he automatically followed Sherlock into danger, though now they stuck together more because they were friends. Sherlock watched as understanding dawned on Lestrade's face.

"Yes, really. John says we're sort of opposites and sort of similar and it's one of the reasons we get along. I'm addicted to the puzzles and I'll announce it to anyone who listens and everyone who doesn't. John's addicted to the danger and he hides it. After all, nobody's going to warm to a guy who says he misses the war. Don't know why he cares what they think if they're too stupid to understand. But the war's the odd thing…" Sherlock tailed off as a thought struck him. Maybe mentioning John's nightmares was one of those things he shouldn't do.

Before Lestrade could ask just what was so odd about the war, an almost triumphant, and very familiar voice came from behind them, "He's learning!" They turned and saw John, who gave a sheepish smile to Lestrade, "Hi Greg. What Sherlock was going to mention, before he amazingly remembered about manners, was that I get nightmares about Afghanistan. Not so often any more, thankfully. But, I think, in answer to your question, Sherlock, it's perfectly natural to enjoy the adrenaline but still be disturbed by the horror and um … everything."

"Hi John," Lestrade replied, "were you listening in? Not that we're angry or anything, we shouldn't really have been talking about you, Sherlock," he said, glancing at Sherlock, who looked bemused as to why he shouldn't be talking about John.

"I didn't hear all of it. I suppose you want to hear the why," Lestrade immediately rose, presumably to tell John he didn't have to tell them anything if he didn't want to, but John waved him away. "I don't mind. Probably be good for me. Besides, Sherlock will drive everyone mad until he knows."

John paused for a moment and Sherlock recognised his calming breathing exercises, "As for why … as Sherlock said, I'm an adrenaline junkie, but when I was younger I was worse, much worse. I was pretty much insane, and so I found … stuff to calm me down. Of course, it started off small, smoking the odd joint with my mates but it quickly escalated to … to other stuff. Mainly heroin," John ended in a whisper, then he shuddered.

"You had to go cold turkey," said Lestrade sympathetically and John nodded wordlessly. Going cold turkey had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and he didn't like to remember it.

John gave a bitter laugh, "Dunno how I got through med school, but I did, and I was a good doctor. Anyway, once I got through the cold turkey I knew there was a high chance I'd relapse so I joined the army. It wasn't the only reason I joined the army, I'd always dreamed of being a soldier, this just gave me an extra incentive. Of course, there are drugs in the army, if you know who to go to, but the army provided a sort of … regimented control, which I needed, and, of course, the adrenaline which I craved. It was the perfect solution."

"Until you got shot," said Sherlock.

"Until I got shot," John agreed, "you know the rest," and it was clear that, as open and honest as John had been, he wasn't going to talk any longer.

It was only later that it occurred to Lestrade to wonder what would have happened to John if he had never met Sherlock Holmes.