Addiction- Chapter 3
A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, alerts and favourites! Didn't realise it would be so popular. This chapter is especially for BMRH who threatened no sleep until I updated. Sorry for the delay…
It was the rain that brought Sherlock back to consciousness after a few painful hours of interrupted sleep. He had watched the blood pour out of his wounds unable to do anything about it. Slowly, he had felt himself nod off which he welcomed as some form of relief. His dreams were, however, filled with images of his former flatmate and best friend.
Sherlock hoisted himself up on a small wall, trembling both with the cold and the weakness flooding his body. He could not go to hospital…people might recognise him. He would just have to grin and bear it and put on a brave face.
With the light of day he was able to survey the area slightly better. Everything remained the same as when he had been a teenager and things, as always, seemed slightly less threatening with the sound of work and the lack of thugs. He dragged himself to a wooden bench along the water and assessed his injuries with a slightly clearer mind.
Two broken ribs, several cuts and bruises and a pounding headache; he had gotten off lightly in the end. After all the dealers could have just as easily killed him and dumped his body. His thoughts once again turned to John. How often had John made sure that Sherlock was clean, that he was kept occupied? This did not help Sherlock one little bit. He mind began to drown in these memories and self- pity took over. He wanted to block them out the happy times, the laughter, and the friendship. John was no longer a part of his life, he couldn't be and he had to leave all those memories behind.
As the day dragged on Sherlock's injuries hurt a bit less but his mind was tired and weak. It needed stimulation and his thoughts turned to the cocaine. Yes he had been beaten but he would be more careful this time…he would stay hidden; he would use a different dealer. It would be fine…of course it would…he was a genius after all…just one more hit…
Night once again closed in and Sherlock had made up his mind. This would be the last hit. He just needed to straighten things out in his mind and he would get on with his new life, he would be able to adjust. Eventually, the dealers and their clients began to emerge on the streets as the last rays of daylight faded from the sky.
Perfect, Sherlock thought, this is going to be easy…just find someone who looks halfway decent and then scarper to your safe place.
Sherlock in the hours before nightfall had scouted the area and found a place where he would stay while he thought about his next move…whatever that would be.
He slouched in the shadows, hunting, like an animal watching his prey. The night wore on and Sherlock became slightly impatient. Soon, however, he found his target. The dealer was selling to a local business man…of course Sherlock knew the man's identity within seconds but tonight he was just another addict. Sherlock kept his face hidden under a cap which he had picked up and made a swift transaction. He strode as fast as he dared out of the alley and headed for his hiding place. He entered cautiously and sat down.
Once again he performed the same ritual with the implements, laying them out in a row. He was about to place the needle in his arm when a voice entered his head. It was his imagination but it raised a moment of doubt in his fragile mind.
The voice was John and it sounded like he was pleading. He was standing in front of Sherlock as plain as day.
"Sherlock…no please don't do this…I'm begging you…please. We can get through this…you and me…together. Just put the needle down, I can't see you like this."
Sherlock felt the tears slide down his cheeks and they refused to stop. He would never be able to forget John and leave him behind. He had followed him even to this hideaway.
"John I won't do it...I promise I won't" Sherlock cried, reaching out to his best friend. John held out a hand to the Consulting Detective and there was a smile on his face. Suddenly, however, John was gone and Sherlock was stunned. He looked frantically around for any sign of his blogger but to no avail. It was then that he noticed the needle sticking in his arm and everything turned dark and cold.
A/N: Thanks for sticking with me. Poor Sherlock…Once again leave a review they make my day…you have no idea…