The crash. The stupid crash that comes after every high. There was a reason it was called a crash. This one did not disappoint. Sherlock hated this part, everyone hated this part. He was perched in his chair in the living room when it hit. John had gotten him off the bathroom floor a hours ago but refused to let him go back to his room until he was no longer high. At first Sherlock thought it was so that he wouldn't hurt himself, a valid concern. But now, he knew better, he knew it was for this moment right here. This fall from grace that left shattered pieces where a person once was.

John was in the kitchen setting up the kettle for tea when he heard it. The muffled scream. Sherlock had stopped crying in the bathroom and hadn't as much as whimpered since. Letting the high flow back over him. John turned on the stove top and hesitantly made his way make to the sitting room. He had experience with addicts, but this time he has no back up.

John paused at the entrance way, seeing the crash start. Sherlock looked like he aged ages in a matter of minutes, his leg bouncing up and down, fingers picking at each other, the agitation clearly present. John approached, making sure that each step was loud enough to make his friend aware of him coming over. Squatting he took Sherlocks hands to keep them from doing more harm. He could feel them tighten beneath his hands.

"Sherlock. Look at me." He gently demanded.

Pausing, the silvery eyes dared to look up and lock with his. John read his eyes as the tables had turned, his eyes starting to glaze over as he detached from reality. Panic, fear, sadness, suspicion, and need. The desperate desire in Sherlocks eyes broke John's heart. But he wouldn't look away, he needed to ground Sherlock to the moment, to the here and now.

"Sherlock. I need you to talk to me, okay? I need to know you're still here."

"..." Sherlock didn't know if he could respond or not, but no words made their way out. Johns voice sounded so distant, so far away. The drugs were taunting. You don't need yet, but you will. You always do. This little crash is nothing compared to detox. You remember rehab right? You can't handle that again. You are too weak, too pathetic. So why try? You'll come back, you always do. What do you think you're doing? You're nothing without me.

John could see the detective drift into his own mind, fighting an internal battle. "Sherlock." He said a bit louder gripping the detectives hands tighter. He was loosing him. Standing he rushed back into the kitchen taking a bag of frozen peas from the ice box.

Sherlock was in a daze, walking into the kitchen, as John turned around. He forced Sherlock into a chair in the kitchen. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." John said, putting the frozen vegetables into the others hand.

"Focus on the cold, on the way the peas feel in your hand. Focus on my voice. Try to stop thinking, come back to me. Please Sherlock. Focus." John pleaded.

A few minutes later he could see the shift in Sherlocks eyes, in his posture. John let out a deep breath.

"Better?"

"mmmm. Thanks." Sherlock replied.

The kettle went off, John prepared tea and biscuits for both of them. They sat in silence. Sherlock even eating. This shouldn't have surprised John because he always eats when they're not on a case. Oh. Oh... That explains it, the eating, the hiding in his room, the sporadic thoughts, the hypersomnia, the pacing, the blatent disregard for everything. Okay, well the last might just be Sherlock being himself. Now I'm not entirely sure what he is anymore. The crash from the drugs, it explains everything between cases. He just wouldn't let it get to withdrawal. But maybe, the agitation if a case was taking too long, cocaine doesn't produce the same physical symptoms as other withdrawals. SHITSHITSHIT! I am such a bloody idiot!

"You look tired. You are sleeping tonight. There isn't a case, so no excuses. But, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Finally realizing how tired he was, how much energy today took, Sherlock just nodded not bothering to fight. Still slapping away John's hand in agitation as he tried to help him up.

John laid back in a chair, watching Sherlock restless in his bed but still asleep. He recognized this was only the beginning, but was happy with the progress they made during the day. John had called work, briefly letting them know that he wasn't able to come into work for while, he was more needed here.

A/N- please leave a little review to let me know what you're thinking. if not i don't know if i should keep posting or not. thank you for reading! I hope you like, any feedback or what you want to see coming up. they will be back on a case soon. i know its annoying that i keep asking but i don't know what you want or not if you don't let me know or if people are liking what they read or not. i hope you're enoying.