A.N. I'm sorry for the confusion if you all got story alerts. I did have up a third chapter, but I was unhappy with it. I was trying to do drabbles, but it didn't feel right going out of order. This one is a little longer. Hope it makes up for the confusion. Texts are italicized to differentiate from deductions.


They are both sitting at the table, drinking their coffee and tea. John thumbs through the paper. Sherlock flicks his attention toward him.

TAPPING HIS FINGERS TWICE, NERVOUSLY

TEA CUP IS STILL HALF FULL

"Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"You don't seem all right."

"Drop it."

Sherlock sighs. "You coming today? I think Lestrade misses you." He teases John.

EYES BLINK, TRYING TO THINK HOW TO RESPOND

"Tell him. I'll see him next week. This week isn't a good week."

SLIGHT NERVOUS CHUCKLE.

Sherlock nods. "Do you need someone to-" He leaves the sentence hanging.

John looks up from his drink. "To pick me up?"

Sherlock shrugs which means yes. Yes, that was the rest of my question. He looks at John in the eyes.

HESISTATION

UNWILLING TO SAY YES

"Sherlock, are you actually caring?"

"It's a yes or no question, John."

"I'll text. All right?"

This seems to be the best answer for them. They go back to their breakfast.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Still no John?"

"Lestrade, call the bloody man yourself if you have such attachment to him."

"I will."

He glances at the DI. He knows right away that Lestrade won't.

Sherlock wants to check his phone, but he knows there won't be a text for a couple hours.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

In the middle of crime scene, Sherlock feels his phone vibrate. He immediately pulls it out.

FEEL LIKE SHIT.

Sherlock immediately knows this means John is subtly hinting for a ride. He stares at the body before him.

WOMAN

25 YEARS OLD

VEIN MARKS, TWO ON EACH ARM

"Lestrade, the woman was in a relationship with her druglord. Quite obvious with the overdose and all." He flips up his collar. A case solved in record time, he believes.

"You leaving?"

"Yes. I solved your case. I have somewhere to be."

He doesn't even let Lestrade respond. He's already out the door, hailing a cab.

x-x-x-x-x

Sherlock walks into the upper levels of Saint Bartholomew's. He's surprised John picked this place, but mostly it must have been out of convenience.

He's about to walk down to the counter when he sees Molly, meeting him halfway.

LAB COAT STILL ON

SMILING NERVOUSLY

"Sherlock! You came? It's always a bit rough the first time."

"Molly. Talking too much."

SIGHS

GLANCES ANXIOUSLY AT HIM.

"Noreen…"

"Who the bloody hell is Noreen?" He whispers harshly back as they walk down the hallway. This is the second time this woman has been mentioned.

"I'm Noreen." Sherlock looks up.

NURSE SCRUBS

GENTLE SMILE

SHE ALREADY KNOWS WHO HE IS

"Nurse Noreen" he says.

"Sherlock Holmes." She says. "Follow me."

He doesn't even respond. Molly follows after him. He doesn't ask why she does. Even a sociopath like him knows Molly is just too nice of person.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sherlock's eyes do not take long to find his friend. The room is empty except for John and another woman watching a show on her telly. She's grimacing and trying to smile the same time.

John looks half-asleep.

"Really, John? I had to come and get you. I was in the middle of a crime scene."

Noreen is about interrupt to tell Sherlock to be a little kinder, but Molly shakes her head. This is how the two of them manage.

John just looks at Sherlock. Sherlock sees it in his eyes.

TAKE ME HOME.

TIRED

NAUSEOUS

TAKE ME HOME. PLEASE.

"Molly, would you get the door? I think Doctor Watson needs some help."

He hoists John up so he has someone to lean on.

LEGS ARE UNSTEADY

JOHN IS HEAVY

"I think we'll take the elevator."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

After finally hailing a cab and sitting John in the back seat, Sherlock sits next him.

John looks at him.

"Why do you look so cross? You just didn't have massive amounts of drugs flooding through your system. God, I think I'm going to be sick."

He covers his mouth. Sherlock sighs as he leans back in his seat. "Why would you put yourself through this? You're going to die in six months. Why would you live the rest of it with all those drugs? Oxaliplatin. It isn't even the good kind. You're a doctor. I thought at least you would know not to do this to yourself.

He doesn't look at John. He can tell by John's posture that he is annoyed.

"Damn it, Sherlock. Don't tell me how to live my life. The reason." His voice is muffled. Sherlock looks up.

HEAD IN HANDS.

CRYING?

GOING TO BE SICK?

"Because damn it...I'm not done with my life."

Sherlock responds back with five words. "We're back at Baker Street."


Oxaliplatin is a type of chemo drug. It is one of the drugs commonly used to treat pancreatic cancer. Side note: I have no idea where this story is going at this point. So come along for the ride, I guess. Thanks for all the story alerts again.