Hello ! So here is the new chapter, hope you'll like it. Nothing much to say today so ! J


John

Slowly, it became a routine. It wasn't a good thing, believe me. But it comforted me more than any person could. I would wake up late, get changed, go to the cemetery. I'd stay there for a couple hours, talk to Sherlock. Then I'd get back home, a little cocaine, enjoy the effects for a short moment, then go back to sleep again.

Few people would even dare to call this living. I'm practically dead. In fact I sometimes wish I were, but I don't have the courage to pull the trigger. I just don't think it would do that much good. Not like people would notice now, they barely come to see me anymore. I've been doing this for a month and a half now, nobody has noticed that I've been high practically every night.


When Sherlock got Mycroft's call about John probably developing an addiction to cocaine, he simply couldn't let it continue. He of all people knew what this addiction could lead to and the last thing he wanted was for John to go through this.

But how could he stop it if he was dead?

How could he stop it without John being suspicious?

He had to find a way and no matter how long it would take him to find an idea, he would do it.


John changed in the same clothes he wore the day before and went down to get a cab. It wasn't too long before he got to the graveyard. He walked passed a number of stones, following the same path as each other day, before stopping in front of Sherlock Holmes.

Only something was different this morning. There was a note pinned under a rock. It wasn't signed and it had John very much intrigued, as it didn't have a name and seemed to be meant for him, after reading what the nicely drawn letters wrote.

I make you feel high when you're feeling low.

I make you smile, but you need to let me go.

I'm not the one for you, you always knew.

There are much better things to do

Believe me, there are better ways

Even on your worst days.

Needless to say, that night, when John came to take his daily dose of drugs, he thought of the message and didn't take any. The person was right; he was only destroying his life bit by bit, bringing his health down at the same time. He's a doctor for god's sake, he should've known better. But who knows better than him what depression can do to some.

Even if he agreed with the message, he couldn't help wondering who it was from. Nobody could've known about this. He didn't see anyone anymore, didn't even talk or text them. And how did the person know he would be here, he was practically always alone at the cemetery. He couldn't help but think only Sherlock could know something like this with one glance of an eye, but who was he kidding, the man was dead and buried.


Sherlock, over the next two weeks, started to watch the camera footage once again. John didn't touch the cocaine once since the day he left the message. It had been a good move.

But now, after 8 months of chasing, running, fighting and chasing again, Moriarty's web was destroyed. Nobody was left, and those who were, well they were under strict surveillance and of no threat.

He could finally go home. Home. He barely even knew what that was anymore after all those months sleeping in crappy motels or even in the streets at some point. The idea of home almost brought tears to his eyes.

He was happy. But, although the last months had been intense, the idea of John's reaction truly scared him to death. He'd never been this afraid, even with the barrel of a gun pointed to his head.

How could he come up to John without him freaking out, without him fainting or not ever wanting to see him again? What if John didn't want Sherlock as a flatmate anymore? The detective's mind was full of what if's and hopes for the best.


Another chapter done. Tell me what you think ;) I love follows reviews and favorites, who doesn't ?!