I seem to be having a week of misfortunes at the moment. I had a fantastic night on Sunday watching Rick Astley, Take That and Lulu live in concert which was amazing. And I was supposed to be having a nice week off work with my boys having plenty of day trips. That was until I fell over (on a discarded lightsaber - does that make it any cooler) and knackered my foot and knee. So I'm currently laid up in bed feeling a bit sorry for myself.

The good news for you guys is that means I can post this chapter and then do some writing on some of my up and coming fics so I suppose it's not all bad news.

Hope you're all having a better week xx

Chapter 3

He was shivering a little by the time she brought him back the coffee and she could see a nerve twitching under his eye...he must be starting to feel the withdrawals from the drugs already and she needed to talk to him about her plans to use methadone.

It was Sherlock who spoke first though after taking a deep draught of his coffee, wincing at the heat and the bitter taste. 'So, let me see if I've worked this out correctly. My brother has somehow persuaded you that I'm better off out of London. He told you the rehab clinics wouldn't take me and also that he needed a doctor, someone I'd trust. John was out of the picture because of Rosie and that leaves you. Faithful little Molly Hooper always happy to drop everything to tend to my every whim.'

She took a deep breath but refused to take the bait, he was goading her, wanting an argument, a reason for him or her to be able to storm out and blame the other.

'Yep, that sounds about right. He tells me you've been taking heroin mainly, sometimes cocaine. Anything else?'

'Whatever I can lay my hands on Molly...if I can snort it, swallow it or inject it I will. What makes you think you're going to be able to stop me?'

She shrugged. 'I can't, not if you don't want to be stopped...but see I think you do. I think all of this is some kind of bid for attention, a cry for help. If you'd wanted to go off the rails and not be helped you'd have done it without any of us knowing about it. You could have left London, you could have gone undercover as a homeless person...dammit Sherlock I'm sure you could have thought of a thousand ways of doing it secretively but you didn't. You did it in plain sight which means you want our help so like it or not here it is.'

He glanced around looking nervous for the first time, his bravado slipping away a little, he cleared his throat again. 'So, what's it to be...cold turkey?'

She saw another shudder go through his body and his hand fisted, bunching up the material of the sheet, as he tried to control it and cover it up.

'No, too harsh and too dangerous. Methadone.'

He turned his head to look at her and she saw the gleam in his eye and she knew exactly what he was thinking...he'd raid the stash and get high on that instead.

'Before you think of stealing it, its fingerprint locked and there's a key which I'll be keeping close.'

He smirked. 'You think I don't already know that it's on a long chain around your neck and sitting between your breasts as we speak.'

As he spoke his eyes travelled down her body resting on her chest and she knew she was colouring up as she pulled her dressing gown closed a little. Had he meant to sound quite so lewd when he said that...probably. He was still an addict first and foremost and she wouldn't put anything past him.

'Well, there's no time like the present. I may as well give you your first dose. We'll do one a day gradually reducing the dosage over the next couple of weeks. How does that sound?'

'I think it sounds tedious and boring but if you're going to do it get on with it and make the first dose a high one. I've been taking a lot of drugs and I really don't fancy coming back down just yet.'

As she made her way over to the secure box and her medical bag she was conscious of his eyes on her watching her every move.

'So, where the fuck are we? What god forsaken hole did my brother choose?'

'We're in Kings Horton just outside of Andover...and he didn't choose it, I did.'

She moved back to Sherlock wanting to check his vitals before giving him the injection. He was shaking now and starting to sweat and she could see the pain in his eyes as he started to fully experience the withdrawal symptoms.

'Hmm, so you chose it. I'm deducing it must have some sentimental reason for being chosen otherwise we'd be at the seaside or some other commercially popular location. What are we talking first family home, grandparent's home...which is it?...because you, Molly Hooper, are so predictable.'

Molly sighed, it looked like he was still as sharp as ever and the drugs were bringing out his cruel streak. 'It's where I lived from the age of ten through til when I left for University. My parents moved to Surrey soon after. I haven't been back here since then.'

As she started to take his pulse he huffed, changing the subject once more. 'Come on Molly get on with it. How long does it take you to stick a needle in me? Are you slower because I'm not dead...not used to a patient who's living and breathing? If it's easier for you I'm happy to do it myself.'

Looked like he was back to goading her again. She ignored him and concentrated on taking his blood pressure and noting down the figures in a small notebook. If she was going to do this she was going to be thorough. She tried not to stare at his arm whilst she tied the strap to help find a vein. She had a bit of a thing about his arms and hands...hell, she had a bit of a thing about the whole package but his arms and hands were particularly sexy. It pained her however to see all the previous injection sites tracked up and down his left arm and the bruising and scarring that went with them. He hadn't been gentle with himself. There was less on his right so she used that arm to give him his injection.

As she depressed the plunger she saw him close his eyes and rest his head on the back of the settee waiting for the hit of the drugs and she felt sadder about this whole experience than she had previously. Seeing him as the addict he clearly was was upsetting.

He opened his eyes and stared at her and she knew that he had seen her sorrow from the way that his eyes slid away to one side. She knew he'd hate being pitied.

She took a deep breath and sat down next to him. She started to put her hand out, hesitated but then continued anyway, placing her hand on his arm.

'Listen I'm not going to have a go at you for this, we've all been through a nightmarish year what with Mary and everything and it's been worse for you with all this stuff with your sister and Baker St getting blown up and...well, I can't say I understand your need to take drugs, it's not my thing, but I do understand why you needed something. I just wished you'd told John...or even me so we could try to help you earlier. You're not alone anymore Sherlock you have to stop acting like you are. Let me help you?'

She could see the battle waging in his head between the old Sherlock who despised having emotions and needing support and the one she hoped would win who acknowledged his feelings.

She held her breath but in the end he just shook his head and stood up, forcing her to relinquish her hold on his arm. 'I'm tired, I think I'll go back to bed.'

'Fine, but use your own room.'

'I was in my own room.

'No, you were in mine.'

He pouted, he honest to God pouted and Molly almost laughed. 'It has the larger bed, I'm taller than you. I can't sleep in a single.'

Molly held firm. 'I don't care. You can and you will. I'm here helping you, I've left my job, my flat and my cat behind and I'm damned if on top of all that I'm sleeping in a box room. So, sleep in your own room.'

He huffed and just made his way back up the stairs, half of the sheet trailing behind him. Molly contemplated standing on the end of it to watch it unravel but instead she took a deep breath and wondered what she fancied doing for the day.

In the end she chose to make her way into the village and pick up a few fresh provisions, she hadn't been able to carry much the previous day, just coffee, milk, and a few breakfast bits. As she meandered up the high street she wondered if she would bump into anyone she knew. She'd already contacted her cousin via Facebook and he'd invited her and Sherlock over for a meal in a couple of days. She hadn't told him the real reason she'd come to the village just that she was visiting with a friend for a bit of a holiday. She hadn't seen him since his wedding almost eight years before and she was looking forward to seeing his kids, a little girl of about six and a new baby just under a year old.

She'd also left a message with her old friend from school but hadn't heard back yet. She hadn't seen Abby in nearly 15 years and it would be great to catch up with her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The weather was fine, not exactly hot but not that biting cold that could settle in sometimes in Autumn. It felt so strange to be back and there were so many memories assaulting her senses. There was the pub where she'd had her first drink, the bus shelter where she'd had her first kiss and awkward fumble. She smiled as she remembered him, David something or other, he hadn't been the best looking guy in the world but he had been quite sweet and safe.

The bookshop where she'd had a Saturday job had changed hands and was now an antique shop as well as still having a room full of second hand books in the back. She had a bit of a browse and picked up something light to read whilst she was here, she hadn't really thought of how to entertain herself in the rush to find a house and pack.

Finally she made it to the little village store which also doubled up as a post office and she was surprised when she bumped straight into Abby who was making her way out of the front door of the shop. Molly would have recognised her anywhere, she had hardly changed a bit, a little older but still very Abby. The only real change was the fact she was in a wheelchair.

The two friends greeted each other warmly and Molly felt the years slip away as they started to talk.

'I need to pick up a couple of bits from the shop but do you want to come back to mine for a coffee or something, I'm renting a place with a friend just down the road.'

'Why not! I'm not working today and it would be good to catch up. I'll be honest I was surprised when I got your message and a little unsure as to whether to get in touch. I mean...so much has changed for me but...now I see you that seems a little daft.'

Abby waited whilst Molly picked up some food for herself and Sherlock for the next couple of days and then the two friends made their way to the cottage.

I did warn you that Sherlock would be an arse at first but I hope you agree that Molly stuck up for herself and wasn't a pushover...I like her to be strong.

And I have to admit it is fun to write snarky, goady Sherlock. Let me know which Sherlock you like best.