This chapter is a little longer :D

Thankyou for all your reviews, they honestly make my day! I should be updating every Sunday now, so you can look forward to that ;)

The next chapter is going to be a little more interesting, but for now- enjoy!


"Sherlock?" "Sherlock can you hear me?" John? Sherlock opened his eyes he'd shut in fear, to find the dark figure of John looming over him.

"What happened? Have you been on the drugs again?" John looked around, before spotting something glinting beside his bed.

"Actually no, don't answer that- it's pretty obvious." The figure stood up sharply, sighed at his flatmate and stomped out of the detectives room, slamming the door behind him.

He'd spotted the needle that had been used. Damn, thought Sherlock. How did I manage to pass out? Even though John was mad at him, he was so glad to hear his voice. The dream had seemed so real, John looked so dead... But the druggie had been too unhappy to try forget about it this time. It was between the blade and the drugs, and it looked as if the drugs had won.

He got to his feet, and stumbled into the bathroom. The room span, but only because he'd gotten up too fast. As he looked in the mirror, Sherlock realised just how bad he looked. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was messier than usual, and his top, usually crisp, was crumpled beyond belief, and stained with some unidentifiable substances.

After freshening up a bit, he went into the living room and sat down on the sofa. John, who was in the kitchen, took no notice of the man, and continued to make himself some toast. Once the butter had been replaced, he went and sat in the chair next to their coffee table.

"Why did you do it?" He asked quietly. Sherlock turned to see the man looking at him intently, his eyebrows furrowed. The detective looked away.

"Dammit Sherlock, don't ignore me. This has gone on for too long. You were clean for 2 years for god's sakes! Why did you relapse?" He flinched at the word "relapse", and it didn't go unnoticed.

"You flinched." He said sharply.

"What? I did nothing of the sort." Snapped Sherlock.

"Oh don't try arguing with me Sherlock, i'm trying to help you! Something must have happened to make you-" the detective looked at him, "-start again." "Are you bored? Angry? Upset? Depressed?" The doctor persisted.

"There's nothing John, so LEAVE ME ALONE." Sherlock got up, grabbed his coat and disappeared, slamming the door behind him, and leaving a very infuriated flatmate behind. He stormed down the steps and out the front door, not bothering to lock it.

The detective started walking, no idea of his destination yet. The paths went on and on as Sherlock became deep in thought. He hadn't felt the urges, as John said, in 2 years. He learnt to control and banish his emotions, but it seems that wasn't enough. They're starting to show, Sherlock thought angrily. I'm starting to get upset again, angry with everyone. It can't lead to cutting again this time, it can't. It was too close a shave last time, when he was a teenager, it CAN'T happen again. But the urges are getting stronger, people are getting angrier and more frustrated with me... I'm sure they won't notice if I only do it once or twice... Just to get closer to my one, true friend...

"NO!" He shouted, kicking the nearest bin. Passers by stared at him before moving slowly on. "What was it that damn Disney film said? Conceal don't feel?" He muttered. "Conceal... Conceal..." Over and over as he made his way back to 221b.

"Oh, calmed down now have you, after your little strop?" John said as he walked through the door. Sherlock gave his flatmate an icy stare and stormed to his room.