This is my first time writing any type of fanfiction, let alone a Sherlock one. Please be nice, don't hate on me too much. D:
Disclaimer: All characters etc. belong to the BBC, not me.
700mg of heroin injected into the radial artery via a hypodermic needle, causing the vein to collapse and the heart to slowly stop. The nerve systems will then break down and stop working. Conclusion: a lethal dosage, capable of killing a man whose body has suffered from excessive drug use.
Sherlock Holmes stood on the balcony of his flat - if you could even call it his flat. He slowly ran his hand up his left arm, his fingers running over the scars on his wrist from the blade and the scars on his forearm from the needles. His body had scars all over it, but his arms held the scars with the memories. The memories of pain and suffering. Of being alone and cold, with not a single person to look him in the eyes and tell him that everything was going to be okay.
He shook his head slightly, trying to rid his mind of the memories, the memories that he couldn't live with anymore. Sherlock Holmes, dying of an overdose. How very predictable and, to be honest, boring. But he didn't care anymore. His only wish now was to get away from it all, for good. And the needle in his pocket was all the needed to fulfil that wish.
It's short, I know. Please R&R, and I'll write more.. if people like it, that is.
Much love. x