Then came the first half and half photo- when they weren't together.
Up until now you may have thought that the Sherlock in these pictures and the Sherlock you know were very different. That's because they are.
The Sherlock in this picture is yet again a bit different. His eyes have bags under them and his usually chestnut colored hair is darker, greasier and he is alone in his apartment which is now quite a mess with experiments. He is moving from experiment to experiment eyes glazed over. He hasn't slept in days yet his mind is still whirring, possibly thanks the white powder that could easily be found in his apartment.
Iris, is at the police station talking to a greying man, detective Lestrade. She has grown into her figure a bit more, which is expected, she's been gone for twenty months. Perched in a chair, her eyes shine like they always have and Lestrade hands her an envelope with an address on it. Her smile thanks him and he is happy to comply.
This is where this chapter begins.
"Thank you so much detective, I'll take care of it right away."
"Miss Brook, I can offer you only minimum protection in this position. You have not seen this man in over a year and-"
"I understand, you see I had been keeping contact with him for a while-"
"Two months isn't a while." The older detective was very adamant as he leaned against the front of his desk, "This is a very serious situation if I hadn't gotten the call from my boss Mr. Holmes would be in jai-"
Standing Iris had lost patience, "Excuse me, Detective but I believe you have your orders and so do I. You have a wonderful night."
The older man could see the determination in her eyes, and the true concern. He smiled at her sincerely as he walked to his door to let her out "Good luck Miss."
She nodded and walked out of the door and out to the elevator then to the street to hail a cab. Some people would think her crazy for rushing to a police station to help bail out a friend of hers that she hasn't seen or heard from in months, all because she got a call from said distanced-friend's older brother.
Arriving at the well-known apartment she hadn't even touched the envelope with the address in it. Sherlock wouldn't have moved. She walked up the corridor until getting to his door. Honestly she was overcome with the smell coming from the room. The keyhole had scratches around it and the hinges looked worse for wear as though someone had slammed the door open or close too many times.
Iris shook her head almost knowing what to expect but wishing she didn't.
The ring of keys jingled as she opened the door using the key she had been ignoring for over a year. The door creaked and Iris was listening carefully for any indication of what was inside the room. Sherlock would never intentionally hurt her bu-
Click.
She slammed the door quickly and jumped away just as the loud gunshot reached her ears and crack of wood gave her more motivation to jump away from the door. The small bullet hole was precise through the door and she sighed taking deep breaths, "Sherlock! You could've killed me!"
The silence on the other side of the door was more deafening than the gunshot. She reached for the door knob again slowly and opened it to see a still Sherlock staring at her in the middle of his apartment. She would've smiled if not for his appearance; she barely recognized him.
"What happened to you?" The words escaped her lips before she could think, for once.
She didn't know if he even heard them as he simply turned away from her and into his kitchen.
"Sherlock?" She stood in the entrance way still inspecting the room. He had three ashtrays now, possibly more in his room or the bath. She could see streaks that he neglected to wash off and the hiding places.
He didn't even bother to look at her when she spoke, he couldn't care right now. He was in the middle of something.
Iris was used to sprees when Sherlock would be experimenting, granted not usually in such a crude environment or with such terseness. Then again, this situation was different and so was this Sherlock. She sat, patiently, at the table in the overused chair.
After some time, an hour and forty three minutes to be exact, Sherlock sat down across from her but still refused to look her in the eye, "Iris."
"Sherlock." She tried catching his eye as she kept her hands folded on the table.
"You left."
"And I returned."
"Has it been twenty months already?"
"You already know the answer to that."
He did. It had been 14 months, nine days and three hours since he last saw this woman, "And you're here."
"I am."
"Why?"
Iris looked around the apartment, "Why are you here Sherlock?"
"You clearly learned a lot at your CIA internship about interrogating while your forie-"
Her tone cut across him, "Sherlock, can you fill me in?"
"Why don't you do it yourself?"
Iris sighed and stood from her chair, "Well, I'd say you got bored."
Sherlock looked at her defiantly and waved his hand for her to continue.
"You got very bored and found a new habit that you then learned would help you with your former habit."
"That's one way of describing it."
"Also…" Iris knew the answer that would hit, "I left."
Sherlock just nodded, "And you've picked up a tedious habit of stating the obvious." He stood and produced a cigarette from a coat pocket in a half second with a lighter that he twirled in his hand before lighting, "Would you like a light?"
Iris shook her head, "I don't smoke." Not to say she couldn't see the attraction to nicotine… spurs the neurological connections in the brain. So does cocaine, "Sherlock would you let me help you?"
"Help me?" He asked incredulously, "I fail to see reason that I would require help Miss Brooks. I am living a fulfilling life of deducting and reasoning." He moved with obnoxious hand movements as always although the usually glint in his eyes was gone. He smiled but it was a sarcastic smile that Iris could see mockingly.
She stood directly in front of him and spoke, "Sherlock, get clean. We've got a case."
On her heels she spun to walk away when his voice came out cracking, "Don't leave."
It was so quiet she thought she didn't hear it but she replied anyways, "I'm not leaving; I'm closing your door." After all, it had been open for the last two hours, "So where do we start?"
Sherlock smiled and it was the closest thing to the remainder of her old friend that she had seen all day as he ran from experiment to experiment explaining them all while Iris listened with interest. She had left and he really hadn't cared, after all what genius cares about the absence of one person? But now that she was back he was glad to have someone to explain things to, it helped him think.
This was only the first day. Iris was going to get him clean but it wasn't going to be easy.