It had been a few weeks, since the event. The awkwardness had decreased somewhat around the Doctor and the Consulting Detective. They still went on cases, ate takeaway and moaned about the simple-minded police idiots but there was always an element of hollowness around them especially when the silence between them lasted a little bit too's arm had rapidly healed, not because Sherlock followed all the advice from his Doctor but because of the increased time he had spent hidden in his room away from John. Therefore with no pressure being put on his arm from Sherlock's frenzy of a lifestyle.

It was lunch time at the surgery; John had been rushed off his feet he could feel his shoulder seizing up. John could really not be asked with the repetitious illnesses of the patients and the humdrum workload of the surgery, for the most part of the morning he wished he could be anywhere but here. He had just sat down to eat his lunch when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

We have a case, it's at least a 7. I need you - SH

As much as he was itching to get onto to a new case with Sherlock he knew Sarah was still pissed at the amount of time he had already taken off to run around London with the mad man. Working with his ex was never going to be an easy thing.

I can't Sherlock; I'll meet you later if you still need my help. - JW

Packing away his bag and filing his paperwork, John was all but ready to walk out the surgery door and get home to Baker Street. It was already darken in the streets of London and the harsh chill in the air was doing his shoulder any good. John knew he should have taken a taxi back despite the rapidly increasing hole in his wallet.
Stumbling though the door, John hung up his coat and pushed off his shoes. Walking towards the bathroom, he peered into Sherlock's room though his open door to see Sherlock led on his bed, arm hanging off the bed with a needle jutting out from Sherlock's pale skin. Anger flashed though John. Lunging forward though the doorway John towered over Sherlock in an effort to see if he was even still alive. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open, eye puffed up and red raw. A second glance towards the needle conformed that there was not even any remains of a substance within the barrel. It was empty; the plunger had not even been touched.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry John, I was weak. I was only testing myself" declared Sherlock, looking into John's eyes.

John had only ever seen Sherlock vulnerable, those couple of weeks ago. Before he knew what he was doing, John had leaned forward, he had meant it in a comforting gesture, but this was quickly turning into something more. The distance between Sherlock's and John's lips was decreasing ever so slightly each waiting for the other to close the gap. Goosebumps were rising on Sherlock's arm, dropping his eye level to the still present needle; he looked at it like it had personally offended him. John also looked towards Sherlock's arm, taking the hint that is making Sherlock uncomfortable, John tugged the needle out of Sherlock's arm as softly as possible. With that John backed away from Sherlock and lumbered out of the room.

Sherlock let out a breath, almost a sigh. John Watson was still straight, much to the dismay of Sherlock. John Watson could be a stubborn man when he wanted to be, but so could Sherlock.

Following John out into the living room, he realised that John would want to ask about the needle and the drugs. Apparently John felt that talking about things could really help, if only Sherlock would open up more often. It was John who spoke first.

"Are you going to explain about what happened in there?" John asked, carefully judging Sherlock's reaction to the sensitive question.

"The case, John. The victim was so young, still in university. His food had been laced with heroin, by his ex who wanted revenge. It was made to look like a suicide the murderer did not count on me seeing the signs that he was not a drug user at all. My personal experiences with drugs helped me to see the truth, ironic really. I could smell it; the drug was still in the air from when the food was cooked, I almost ran back here to get my stash. I only wanted to feel it again, I'm sorry if I disappointed you" Sherlock reciprocated. John pondered his answer for a moment, cautiously thinking of a response.

"It's okay; you didn't mean to cause harm. As long as you don't relapse its all okay Sherlock" gently smiled John back at him.

John raised his hand towards Sherlock, gesturing him to step forward. Hand in hand, John gently tugged Sherlock to the sofa in order sit him. Misreading the signs, Sherlock leaned in to John and kissed him.