A/N: Yeah... so this is the sequal to 'How can I live without you?' which is the previous chapter.


How Do I Cope Without You?

Sherlock winced visibly as he accidently knocked over John's lamp on his bedside table. His new apartment was insufferably small and very difficult to break into. John stirred and Sherlock stilled staring with wide eyes at his friend. John shifted and rolled onto his side away from Sherlock and he breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock tread carefully out of the bedroom and into the living room/kitchen. Sherlock felt a small twinge of pain when he noticed the packet of 25g Amber Leaf tobacco. Sherlock lifted the window quickly and quietly and threw the tobacco out of the window and straight into the lap of a rough looking teenager sitting on a bench in the street. The teenager and his friends looked up to him and he waved a smiled. The teenagers cheered and called their thanks, their loud voices filtering into the apartment before Sherlock was able to shut the window fully. He stilled for five minutes to make sure John had not woken up, after confirming that John was thrashing quietly in his bed Sherlock made his way into the kitchen. He checked the fridge first and studied its contents against his mental list of healthy foods. There was plenty of vegetables in the bottom drawers which pleased Sherlock as he could tick of greens from the list. Fruit in another drawer seemed healthy enough and potatoes and onions in another. There were eggs in the top shelf of the fridge door, a half full bottle of milk on a lower shelf with a full bottle of chilli sauce and mayonnaise. There was butter on another shelf in the actual fridge and a slab of cheese, along with a packet of ham and what looked to be the remains of a kebab in a cellophane box. Frowning, the detective took out the kebab and put it on the counter top to throw away later. He moved onto the cupboards finding cereal, bread, one white roll, three tins of baked beans, some tins of tuna and anchovies. After checking over the other drawers and cupboards to make sure he hadn't missed anything Sherlock moved to the bathroom. Sherlock took the liberty of stashing two bottles of vitamins and supplements he'd bought the other day into John's medicine cabinet. While he was trying to make room he noticed a bottle he'd hoped would not be there. He picked up the innocent looking pill bottle and read the label.

"Trazodone," He murmured quietly to himself. "Atypical antidepressant, doesn't fit into any other category of antidepressant… heavily sedating side effects…" Just as Sherlock finished he heard a bang from the direction of John's room. Sherlock replaced the pill bottle and ran, fear and adrenaline pumping through his heart. Being found out would put them both in danger but John could be in danger right now and that was enough for Sherlock to jerk into action.

Once in John's room he watched as John fisted the sheets and sobbed brokenly into the silence of the room. The lamp was lying on the floor beside the bed and the bedside table was leaning against the opposite wall at a precarious angle. After another particularly loud sob echoed in the quietness of the room Sherlock slowly approached. John's eyes were blown wide, staring but unseeing at the ceiling, he was mumbling words that made no sense to Sherlock but to John they seemed to be making him more upset. John thrashed again and sat up in bed lurching out and trying to grab something. Sherlock hesitated and stared. John sobbed again and to Sherlock's surprise he was suddenly sitting down on the bed next to John shushing him and placing strong but shaking hands on his shoulders. John's shoulders quaked in his grip and Sherlock found himself pulling him closer, trying to still the shudders and the jerking of his chest as he sobbed brokenly. Sherlock wound his arms around John's shoulders and whispered into his ear, "Shhhh, John it's alright. John, calm down, it's me. Calm down."

The words seemed to cast a spell over the possessed doctor because he sagged and arms that had once been blindly grasping at the air were winding themselves around the detectives' slim body. "Sherlock?" John's voice was thick from crying, sleep and pain and Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat, he couldn't speak. "Sherlock?" John's voice was desperate and full of sleepy hope. He nodded mutely against the man's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, John." But the words weren't necessary. John had been asleep the whole time.

Sherlock gently let John rest back against the mattress and straightened the duvet over him. For the first time in all the months that Sherlock had been visiting him, John was sleeping peacefully.

It was only when Sherlock crawled back out of the window and out onto the fire escape did his cheeks feel unnaturally damp and cold in the night air.


A/N: Thank you for reading! More will be up soon! Any prompts are welcome!

Review please, lovelys!