A/N: this is the last pre-written chapter, from now own you guys have to wait :( im sorry, im working hard :D dont forget to review!
The nights started out normal. He attended a dinner in the cafeteria. They served the shittiest macaroni he had ever eaten, and they made him eat it too. They were all observed by a leader, who was always going on about happiness and positivity. Which, he was sure could be considered harassment...but he wasn't going to peruse it. The man's marriage was failing, his clothes dirtier than the others showed his lack of care in himself. But he was covered in cologne, covering up the smell that came with a lack of bathing. Sherlock also noticed he had been lacking in sleep, and was probably abusing drugs and alcohol himself.
Sherlock made it to bed, laying half dress in the bed, when he noticed secretly had restraints on the sides. After a few moments of trying to remove them, he figured they had to be put there in every room, and tried to make it into something less, than over thinking it. The blankets he was laying on were cold and more comfortable than he first realized, and slowly he was starting to sink into a sleep. He lay, only in his trousers, letting the cool air touch his chest, and blow over his face. He exhaled deeply, letting out all the air in his lungs as he felt a surge of heat come over him. He clenched his fists and rolled over.
He had a pang of emptiness within him, his hands tightened and his body started to shake.
"m-m-mycrof-fff-t" he stuttered out, closing is eyes tightly. The feeling was overwhelming, his body was starting to go into convulsion again, and he hit the side of the bed with his closed fist, over and over again till part of his skin broke and began to bleed. He muffled his screams using his pillow, but some of his faint moans went through the halls.
"LET ME OUT" he shouted loudly, tossing is pillow to the floor. His body was now dripping in sweat and he was as white as a ghost in the dark night. His heart now racing with desire, and his breathing ragged and labored he fumbled towards the door, sinking beside it's cool surface, placing his hands upon the cold wood. He thought himself strong, but tears dripped across his cheeks as he tried to grasp at the wood. Sherlock tried to reach for the doorknob, but his hands slipped from its metal surface and dropped back down to his side. Closing his eyes, he looked up towards the ceiling, feeling some of the cool air from the ceiling fan across him again, trying to calm himself.
Trying to regain his composure, he walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and stared at his reflection, which looked weak and hollow. The pressure from inside was building and he could no longer see through the blur of his watery eyes and the struggle from the strong desire. It became a burning itch within him.
"let me out...let me out. somebody" he mumbled. "I can do it on my own" now shivering, he wiped his eyes and looked at himself again, heaving and dripping. the mirror was lying, showing him everything he hated about himself...he hated himself like this, under somebodies control, and he felt it, the way to make it go away.
quickly he balled up his fist, and threw it towards the glass, crashing against its surface and shattering it to pieces. the glass surrounded his hand quickly, and lodged itself into his hand. the pain was satisfying, and the sight of his blood was pleasurable as he felt the warm liquid drip down his hand and across the glass that lay on the floor. of course he had made a mess but it wasn't something that bothered him. there was no more pull from the inside of him, no more desire to run and scream his way to find his fix. he smiled, touching his blood with his free hand and started pulling the pieces of glass out of his hand, he pulled off his pants and sat in the bathtub, running the water on hot as he stared at the blood dripping from his hand, off onto his chest and down into the water, turning it reddish pink.
he heard some footsteps running down the hall and then his door open. several people walked into his room and looked around, before standing outside his bathroom.
"Sherlock, what's wrong"
"don't be such an ass...you know what wrong." the nurse looked down at the glass and blood and sent a man into the room to see what had happened. he looked into the bathtub and saw Sherlock sitting there naked with blood dripping across the side of the tub and into the water.
"we're going to move you to solitary"
"fuck off."
"Mr. Holmes...this is for your safety"
"bullshit, there are people worse than me, you only take me because my brother paid you, and you're all a bunch of greedy selfish bastards"
"that's enough" said a voice from outside the room. it was a slightly kinder tone, and threw Sherlock off focus from yelling at the male nurse next to him.
"get dressed"
"what part of f-"
"I said enough; don't make me come in there"
"you've pissed off " said the female nurse standing by the door, she found it a little funny and tried to stifle a laugh. Sherlock assumed the other man had sent a glare towards the nurse, for she stopped laughing and everything went silent again. Sherlock sighed, leaning back into the tub and closing his eyes.
"it's pitiful isn't it? dedicating your worthless lives to helping people who are trying everything they can to escape this horrid reality."
"stand up" the man said as he pulled out some rubber gloves and put them on. Sherlock reluctantly stood up and the man realized how tall he was, and felt a little out of his safe zone.
"what, havnt seen a naked man before…you did tell me to stand up"
"just put your clothes on, we'll take you to medical and then get you set up in another room."
"and what if I refuse…" he grinned at the man, trying to intimdate him, which was actually working out great for him.
"I-I uhhh, we would have to sedate you." The nurse fumbled.
"would you call my brother?"
"that would be an option." Sherlock sighed and just looked down at the man. " , please put your clothes on."
"no." he said flatly, wondering what they would do.
"im not going to ask you again"
"thank god…" a girl walked into the room and sherlock just looked at her, not giving any expression. It was the girl form earlier at the desk, hannah, he remember.
"Sherlock, please." She said kindly, not taking any notice to him not being clothed. She seemed used to it, but respected it enough to send in another man first. "the doctor would like to take a look at your hand, but we cant do it here. So if you wouldn't mind getting dressed." Sherlock looked at her, and then back at the other guy in the room.
"fine." He said. "but that's it."
"you don't have a choice-" the man started.
"thank you" hannah interrupted.
Sherlock quickly dressed, smearing his blood across his arm as the doctors drained the bathtub of the blood red water. The other people had already left his room grabing his bags and moving them down to another hall.
"this way" Hannah said taking Sherlock towards the infirmary.
"the doctor is"
"one of our best…" she replied as they reached the white door. The curtains were drawn and there was only a small lamp on in the room. Opening the door, she ushered him in. " , your patient." She called into the empty room. "see you later Sherlock" she smiled and walked out, leaving him alone in the room.
A man came out from the back of the room; he had clean cut hair and was wearing a brown jumper and a doctor's coat.
"hello, Mr. Holmes I'm Dr. John Watson." he said kindly, smirking at the man standing by the door. "if you can, please take a seat right over here." John pointed towards a bench near his table and Sherlock took a seat on it, looking around the room a little before looking back at the doctor. John took a seat at his desk next to the bench and rolled his chair closer.
"army doctor…"
"yes, did Hannah tell you?"
"lucky guess." He smirked.
"right, now please hold out your hand" Sherlock handed john his left hand, allowing him to grab it. "no other hand please…I need to see your cuts" rolling his eyes, Sherlock switched hands and John grabbed it with his hands. Touching gloved fingers over the large gashes, Sherlock winced a little; forgetting how much pain he had caused himself when he punched the mirror.
"mirrors don't fight back" john joked.
"but people do."
"you prefer mirrors to people?"
"I prefer drugs to people."
"I see. any history of family drug abuse?"
"none."
"so why did you do it? just curious" he said turning his hand over and looking at the other cuts.
"seemed more fun than just dying…that and It helps me think" glancing up from Sherlocks hand, he looked his face over, seeing the hardened edges around his eyes, which seemed pained and empty.
"well, I can see you don't wish to go to solitary, it's in your eyes. I can keep you here over night while I work, I have night shift. Just this once" he smiled, inputting Sherlock's data into his computer. "and next time you think about punching somebody or something please call me"
"I can punch you?" Sherlock inquired.
"no" john chuckled. "but I can help you relieve some of that tension from your withdrawals."
"who said I'm having withdrawals"
"you did, well your body did."
"so you're a telepath"
"I'm a doctor"
"tell me, what am I thinking?" he closed his eyes and placed his hands on his temples.
"just call me next time. And I'll have to put some stitches in your hand…you did some pretty bad damage to it. lucky you can even move it."
" ."
"call me John"
"John, why did you switch from fighting crazy people to helping crazy people?"
"they need my help, and Crazy isn't a nice word Sherlock"
"nobody who puts themselves in this sort of situation needs help."
"I beg to differ."
"that just makes you a greedy bastard, preying on people who you "think" needs help, and bringing them in to a cold, strange facility. Depriving them of the stuff that makes their life better. And you call that help"
"I understand you're having some issues adjusting so why don't you just take a seat over near that table and I'll get the stuff ready for your stitches" Sherlock stared blankly at John as he walked off to get the supplies. None of his insults got to him; he just smiled and played along with it. strange, he thought to himself.
