AN: Hey guys! Been a while…So I've been totally swamped with finals but it's all done now and I'll be adding the next chapter of To Have A Home soon! But to make it up to you I found this old RP I did with a stranger on Omegle that I ended up really liking. I typed it up and edited it a bit to make it flow better. (If you happen to be the stranger who did this with me don't hesitate to message me so I can credit you as well!) :D Enjoy!

Sherlock where are you?-JW

I don't know.-SH

Huh? What do you mean you don't know?-JW

I mean exactly what I write, I don't know.-SH

You know every inch of this city. How on earth did you get lost?-JW

If I tell you you'll be mad.-SH

…..I won't. I promise.-JW

I shot up on cocaine…-SH

Sherlock!-JW

Just tell me where you're near so that I can find you.-JW

Uh….-SH

Trees? I might be in a park…yes, the one near the flat…-SH

You drugged yourself up then went to take a stroll in the park? Jesus, Sherlock! What am I going to do with you?-JW

I'm on my way. Stay where you are!-JW

Couldn't do it at home, you always find my stash.-SH

Sherlock, why must you insist on destroying your body?-JW

Sometimes I need it.-SH

Trust me you don't. You're too brilliant as it is.-JW

That's the problem, I'm brilliant, and my body can't handle my mind, this helps.-SH

You can come to me you know. You probably never will, but I'm still here.-JW

Where are you?-SH

Almost there.-JW

Can't really see the stars in London, too bright.-SH

…Are you still high?-JW

Very.-SH

I guessed as much…..-JW

I'm in the middle of the park…. I can't see you.-JW

Yell-SH

John looked down at his phone and sighed but did as he said.

"Sherlock!" He shouted out, probably looking like a mad man for yelling out in the middle of a park at night. Nonetheless he continued to look left and right in the dark for his friend.

Turn around, 400 feet to the slight left, I'm leaning on a tree.-SH

John did so and sure enough found his flat mate. John noted how Sherlock leaned against the tree as if he needed it. It was strange to see him in such a state. But at the bottom of his heart he was relieved that he was okay.

"Come on Sherlock. I'm taking us home." John told him, walking towards his friend. Sherlock looked at him, his eyes wide and a bit bloodshot.

"Knew you'd find me, always do don't you?" He chuckled, holding onto the tree. John chuckled back humorlessly.

"Yeah…" Sherlock said quietly. He looked like he wouldn't be able to stand much on his own. Trying not to think about it much, he put his arm around the other man and awkwardly led Sherlock through the park. Sherlock leaned back on him a bit, the effects starting to make him a bit tired.

"Mm John, I wish you could understand."

"Understand what?" John asked looking for a main street to call a cab.

"Me. What I go through all the time." Sherlock muttered, wincing at the light of passing cars.

"Well make me understand…." John said. It wasn't too often Sherlock openly talked about his feeling or anything about himself in general. He grunted, shutting his eyes before opening them again.

"How do I even do that? Imagine….a box, that your mind is that box and what you put in that box is your knowledge. Follow?"

"Yes." John said quickly, encouraging Sherlock to go on.

"Okay….now for you, a normal mundane person it's sorted, if you're taught something you don't understand the knowledge just wouldn't stick, yes? Okay…" Sherlock glanced around shakily, "So now there is another box, my mind. Now just dump EVERYTHING into my mind, it's jumbled, mostly useless information and it is all sticking, I'm understanding and more is being piled on. This is my mind up until the end of primary school." He paused to see if John had questions but he looked back at Sherlock intently, nodding his head. "Okay okay okay, so, I found out drugs help me to focus to think clearly, that my mind would work fast enough to work through the excess information. It's how I learned how to delete things, like astronomy, because I didn't need it. Once I went through and deleted the majority of my high school teachings. It's as if…..a good half of my information was gone. So now just imagine my box is now more spacious, full but not overly so. I can handle more without me going crazy. But, but, as I get older, I get more information and my mind is constantly working. Your box was constantly resting for the most part, mind only using what it needs. My box is all moving through, everything twisting and turning, filling more that keeps going and going and spinning and spinning and I can't let it stop! Stop! It won't ever stop! I'm brilliant, I'm so so soooooo brilliant but John I'm still human and my violin helps. It helps things flow, but the drugs make me forget, that I can just...stop." John looked backed to him with a worried glance.

"Sherlock…. I had no idea." He said. But even if it helped and John did understand, he didn't want to see him damage himself in the process. "You don't need to forget anymore." John told him firmly and tightened his arm around Sherlock, a gesture that could have easily been a hug.

"Of course you had no idea, John, you aren't me. You have a mostly unused mind." Sherlock muttered, shaking his head. "You still don't get it. I have to. It becomes too much. It effects my emotions."John looked over to the streets and called over a cab, quickly trying to get Sherlock off his clumsy feet.

"Sherlock, it's not a bad thing to have emotions." He said, climbing in himself.

"Yes it is." Sherlock leaned against the door when he got in, the glass was nice and cool. "I'm sad….all the time, which you aren't supposed to know, bugger all…." He frowned. "It's been….easier to like since I met you, I never thought I would become co-dependent." Sherlock finished. John looked over at Sherlock and felt warmth brush through him as he said that. It was nice to know he was needed in some way to the other man.

"Sherlock, you said it yourself. You're human." John said as he watched his best friend, practically half asleep against the cab door.

"Does that mean I have to suffer?" Sherlock asked quietly. "I get so fed up with the world sometimes. It so boring and everything but me moves so slowly. It's maddening. I go crazy John." He confessed.

John often wondered what it would be like to see inside the mind of the consulting detective. He longed to know what how he did such extraordinary things, and come up with such logical solutions for almost everything. He wanted so bad to know, but he never thought it would be so scary. How had he not seen? John still stared at Sherlock at a loss of words. What was there to say? Sherlock was quiet for a long while, feeling John's eyes on him and groaned, shutting his eyes.

"Shut up, John."

"I didn't say anything…." He said quietly.

"You thought it. Don't pity me." Sherlock muttered. "You weren't supposed to know any of this."

'The only reason would be because you're high out of your mind wouldn't it?' John thought to himself, looking away. "I don't pity you Sherlock. I admire you." He said. Sherlock snorted.

"You're the only one. You're the only person I can't understand, you know?"

"Me?" John questioned. He never thought of himself as a complex person. How could a person like himself possibly confuse someone as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes?

"Of course. I expected you to move out the flat the same day you met me then." Sherlock's eyes opened but he was staring out the window, seeming to be looking somewhere not seen. "'Brilliant!' You called me 'Amazing!' 'Fantastic!' No one, no one has ever done that. Then you think I'm funny, and you save my life and share a meal with me and then continue to move in! And it doesn't last a day, it continues! I don't understand." He admitted.

John felt his heart beat faster, pounding against his chest. How was he supposed to explain to him that he loves it all? The thrills they share, the amazing conversations they have, and the dangers they always face together. How could he express the gratitude toward the man that sat next to him for letting him experience it time and time again? How everything about Sherlock just made John so happy. Sherlock's eyes moved from John when he didn't respond, taking in his reaction.

"Saved my life…"He sighed, shutting his eyes again.

"You've saved my life as well. Time and time again, you know?" John told him. He hummed.

"If I had never met you, I would have been dead a long time ago."

John chuckled. "I hardly believe that."

"Study in pink." Sherlock quoted the title of the case John had wrote about on his blog, "I would have taken the pill." John looked at him.

"You surly would've chosen the right one." He said quickly.

"I had no idea, John. It's just as likely I chose the wrong one." Sherlock sighed. "Don't argue with me. If it wasn't one case it would be another, or just me overdosing myself." John winced.

"Sherlock, will you promise me no more of this?" He asked the detective with pleading eyes.

"No" Sherlock replied honestly. "I have to; it's the only way to make my mind clear for a little while."

"You do know I won't let you right?" John said. "Must we go through the cigarette stage again?" He asked, sounding tired.

"You can't stop me John. I'll die." The detective stated. "You aren't listening. You don't understand."

John tried desperately to, but maybe Sherlock was right. Maybe he wasn't meant to understand. Maybe this was something beyond him, that he just couldn't help with. The thought stuck in his mind, that he was useless after all… John turned away from the other man.

"I guess you're right….. as always." He said quietly. Sherlock frowned and nudged John's leg with his foot.

"Don't do that." He grumbled. "It isn't like I do it all the time anymore. I'm in control of it."

"As much as you can be….." John muttered. They were nearly back home.

"It's nice…." Sherlock sighed softy. "I feel so…. at peace." He could see Sherlock half asleep and growing more wary.

'It probably wouldn't be long.' John thought. Sure enough the other man's breath slowed, letting himself drift so sleep. Soon the cab stopped in front of 221B Baker street, and Sherlock was out like a light. 'Now what?' he thought. John sighed at his only option left. He hoisted Sherlock up in his arms and carried him over to the door with some difficulty, knocking on the door to signal Ms. Hudson to open it. Eventually the woman made her way to the door, opening it to look surprised, then frown.

"Not again…. Did he?" She stepped back to let John in. John nodded.

"Found him in a park this time." He said, walking in and starting up the stairs.

"Oh dear." Ms. Hudson sighed, following him up to open the door for him. "Glad you found him, though I really wish he didn't do this…"

"So do I….." John sighed. He entered their flat wondering where to put the man he now held in his arms. He walked over to Sherlock's bedroom that was slightly ajar and entered. John set him down on his bed, admittedly letting his hands linger a few moments longer than necessary. Sherlock stirred the slightest when he was laid down.

"Stay…" He muttered. John looked at him a bit surprised but nodded and sat at the foot of the bed.

"You should probably sleep more, you know?" John said quietly.

"I'll sleep. Just don't go." He hummed, reaching out to grasp John's hand. John's heart fluttered as he held Sherlock's hand loosely in his own. He sat there watching as he, again drifted into sleep.

"Of course." John whispered back, a tired smile spreading across his face. Sherlock rested then, his fingers staying curled around his best friend's. It wasn't long before John's own exhaustion dawned on him. When was the last time his slept now? His eyes became heavier by the moment and his head began to droop. Sleep soon claimed John as well. Sherlock was out like a light, for once, sleeping through the entire night.