Trigger warning for this chapter!

A knock at the doorway startled Sherlock, waking him up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the wall. '5:00 pm' it read. Sherlock's eyes widened. "Hello, Sherlock." John's voice sounded behind Sherlock. Sherlock flinched, speaking softly, "H-hello, J-John..."

A warm hand found Sherlock's back. A high-pitched 'Eep!' slipped out from Sherlock's mouth. Suddenly John was by his side, slightly laying on top of him. Sherlock froze. "What's wrong?" John asked, his hand running small circles around Sherlock's back. "N-nothing it's just, um, I..." His words trailed off. Sherlock subconsciously nuzzled John's throat, his lips brushing it slightly, and his eyes slowly sliding shut. John made a weird noise, his hand stopping in the middle of Sherlock's back. "Sherlock... What are you...?" Sherlock pulled the collar of John's jumper aside and ran his tongue along John's throat, moaning. "Sherlo—nnnngh..." John's words cut off into a rather strange moan. "Sherlock, what..."

Sherlock's breath had become labored, his mind slowly shutting down. "John... John..." He panted, hungrily biting and bruising John's throat. John squirmed underneath him. "S...top... Stop... Sherlock-!" Sherlock glanced at John, his eyes glassy. John gasped a bit. "Sherlock, what are you doing to me...? I thought you just wanted to talk... If I had known you wanted to do this, I would have brought something..." "Bedside drawer. It's still there." Sherlock grunted forcefully, tugging at John's jumper. "Off." He ordered.

John stared at him firmly. "No, Sherlock. Come on, snap out of it, I still want to talk to you anyways." Sherlock looked frustrated. "John..." He grunted, irritated. John poked Sherlock's face repeatedly. "Hey stop tha-" Sherlock suddenly became aware of what he had been doing. He jolted back, falling off the bed. "J-John?! Oof! I didn't-! I never-!" Sherlock stammered. John glanced over the side of the bed. "It's... okay, I guess. You were still... kind of dazed. Um..." He mumbled. Sherlock sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "OHMYGOD SHERLOCK!" John shouted, his eyes going bug-eyed. "Sherlock, you're bleeding!" Sherlock looks at his hand. It was stained red with blood. He wasn't bleeding profusely, but bleeding a fair amount nonetheless.

"What?" Sherlock looked at the floor behind him. There was a blade on the floor. He paled. The blade had a fair amount of dried blood on the edge. "Sherlock, what's that doing there?!" Sherlock wouldn't respond. He refused to glance at his arms. He had been cutting himself because cocaine hadn't been enough to distract him lately. "I'm... not sure..." He mumbled, his eyes not moving away from the blade. He swept it under the bed. His head was starting to hurt. John crawled off the bed and pulled the blade out from underneath. " Sherlock, seriously! Is this part of a case or something?!" He sounded worried. Sherlock refused to look at him. "It's nothing John..." "It's something! Sherlock, why won't you tell me?" He was starting to sound panicked. Sherlock swayed. "I... nnn... Can I just...?" John patted Sherlock's face a few times. "Oh no, Sherlock. Stay awake. Come on, up you go." John pulled Sherlock to his feet a slipped the blade in his pocket, leading Sherlock downstairs, calling an ambulance on his phone while he was at it.

Five minutes later, Sherlock was getting treated for his wound. John took the blade out of his pocket, handing it to a nurse. "Can you find out if this is his blood on the blade?" He asked, jumping into the back of the ambulance after her. "Will do, sir." She replied curtly.

During the quick ride to the hospital, John held Sherlock's hand. The other man was near unconscious. "John... what's going on...?" He asked uncertainly. "Ambulance. You're hurt." John replied. "No, I can't go to the hospital..." His voice trailed off as he waved again towards passing out. John lightly slapped Sherlock's face. "John?" Sherlock mumbled when he opened his eyes again. John smiled down at his friend. "You're going to be all right. You just lost a little too much blood." "John, you didn't..." Sherlock glanced down at his arms. John looked questioningly at Sherlock, pulling up the sleeves, revealing the multitude of cuts and scars. John was speechless. "Sherlock what is...?" Sherlock looked away. "I won't..." John groaned. "Sherlock, come on! Tell me! When did you get hurt like this?!" Sherlock shook his head.