A/N (12/11/14): This story is now an AU, due to season 3 coming out. Also, quick note, this story takes place a little after The Great Game.
Chapter 1: Growing Curiosity
A/N: I do not own the BBC Sherlock characters, just the story line and any other characters that may pop up in the story that are not known in the original series.
It is said, that every forty seconds somebody dies by suicide. Whether it's from poison, firearm, overdosing, or hanging, suicide is an unstoppable factor that no one truly understands. Every year, one million people end up taking their lives, and the number continues to grow. But there are more failed attempts than there are actual suicides, so there is hope in reaching out to these people and giving them the help they need.
Sherlock loudly shut his laptop in frustration. None of this information was useful; it's just another psychologist who thinks they understand how everyone feels because they read it in a textbook at a university.
Sherlock just finished closing a case for Scotland Yard this morning. The case was concerning a man and a teenage girl, completely unlinked, who came to the same abandoned building and committed suicide on the same night. It was a difficult one, but there is never a case that could not be cracked by Sherlock's magnificent brain.
After they caught the murderer, Sherlock found himself back at Baker Street, sitting in his living room, alone. Two hours had passed, and Sherlock began to feel the boredom creep along the walls of the empty flat. His mind wandered through his thoughts, reviewing several unclosed cases that were still prodding at his brain. Though he tried focusing on the problems at hand, something just kept popping back up into his mind processes; the suicides.
Sherlock never understood the idea of suicide. Other than the couple of cases he solved concerning the matter and the knowledge of many different ways one can kill them self, suicide is a completely foreign idea to Sherlock. Well, so is emotions, and everyone knows that emotions are the instigators of most traumas that lead to suicide.
But, that is not what is nagging Sherlock. It is not exactly the before that is bothering him, it is more of the during; it is the side effects, the thoughts, the adrenaline that might occur during the event. This is what led to Sherlock researching it online.
After he slammed his laptop, he tilted his head back and groaned in frustration. He could not find any meaningful information on the subject.
Why are humans so ignorant?He thought to himself.
Sherlock set down his laptop beside him on the sofa. He was alone since John was at the surgery and Mrs. Hudson was at her daughter's house; Sherlock was quite happy for the silence.
Why are humans so ignorant?Sherlock repeated in his mind. What goes through their boring, little minds? If suicide is one of the leading causes of death in the world, what drives them to taking their lives? It can't possibly be for all the same reasons. What do they feel in their last few minutes of their existence? Pain? Sadness? Relief? Certainly not happiness.
Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh, the feeling of not knowing something was killing him. His mind was clouding up with the unanswered questions. He needs something that will clear his mind, but he has been out of nicotine patches for a while now, and no one in a two mile radius will sell him any cigarettes.
A little thought popped up in the back of his mind. He tried to dismiss it, but it kept blossoming through the fog devouring his brain. He had an old stash of cocaine in his room and a few unused syringe needles that he was going to use for an experiment that he never got to doing. Sherlock shook his head, trying to push the thought away. He has been clean for six years now and had promised himself that he would never go back. But he couldn't help the temptation that bubbled inside him. He was alone, and he could quickly dispose of the evidence before John came home.
Sherlock gave into temptation and instantly ran to his room and pulled one of his dressers forward, revealing a small hole in the wall that held the bottled drug. He grabbed it and pushed the dresser back, hiding the hole from site. On his way out of the bedroom, he picked up a syringe needle and an elastic band off the kitchen table.
He walked into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it in behind him. Bathrooms are where he used to always take cocaine, since it is the most private room you can be in, anywhere. Whether it was back at home in his late teen years, at university, or in his previous flats, this was always his favorite spot to shoot up. It was also the best place to be just in case John came back early.
Sherlock closed the lid of the toilet and sat down upon it. He rolled up the left sleeve of his purple shirt, revealing the pale skin that hid underneath. It has been so long since the last time he was using, that most of his track marks were faded and gone. With his right arm, he grabbed the elastic band and tied it tightly around the upper part of his other arm, using his mouth to help make it tight enough. He clenched and unclenched his fist until he saw the two blue veins in the crook of his elbow.
Sherlock body filled with anticipation, waiting for the soon rush of adrenalin that comes with using the drug. Why do humans turn to death when they are in deep depression?Sherlock thought as he prepared the needle. Could there possibly be any relief in taking your own life? Even if they do not go through with it, is dying like the rush that drugs provide? Does adrenalin form during your last few minutes of life?
He paused right before plunging the syringe into his arm, a thought popping into his brilliant mind. Why try and find an answer to all your questions on the internet when you can get them first hand?
Sherlock set down the needle on the edge of the bathtub and took off the elastic band. He quickly rushed out of the bathroom and sat down on the sofa again, completely forgetting about the drugs There is no need for them when there is now something exciting to do. But before he could act, he needed to plan everything.
The questioning will soon be over. Sherlock Holmes was going to attempt suicide.