Sorry this is so short but I have an essay to write but it's been way too long and I wanted to get something up for you guys! Anyway thank you again for your nice reviews! I'm off of school on Thursday so updates will me more regular!

Back at home now, having successfully gotten by Greg without being seen, he took off his jacket and shoes. Still slightly dazed he tripped over his own feet landing on his bed. He crashed. He had forgotten how horrible that part was, the crashing. It almost made the high not worth it. Almost.

He had been able to escapes himself. Escape the nagging feeling that there was something different about John, something that scared him. Escape the fact the he'd lost three years and that they weren't coming back. It kept his mind focused on other topics. Ones that he couldn't think of now as he fell into a deep sleep.

John had tried texting and calling Sherlock's mobile many times before giving into his fatigue. The evening had left him with little hope that Sherlock would ever regain his memory. He didn't even seem to want his memories back, John thought as he subconsciously padded down the short hallway that led to Sherlock's room.

John needed the comfort of the detective tonight and this was the only way he was going to acquire that. He went into Sherlock's closet, tugging the purple button down off the hanger, which tumbled to the floor. He left it there, too tired to take care of it. He made his way back into the living room, taking the stairs slowly. He reached his room, not bothering to undress, he slipped into bed. Lying on his side he brought Sherlock's shirt to his face. His hands wrapped tightly around it. He slept soundly surrounded by Sherlock's unique and comforting smell.

Every breath he took made his head pound. The light streaming in through the slats in the blinds made his eyes feel as if they were on fire. He remembered how he'd gotten addicted to this stuff. It was much easier to shoot up again rather than deal with the sluggish feeling of a comedown.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ran a hand through his mangled curls. He forced himself to sit up, even though the pressure in his head only increased. He hoped Greg would have already gone to work so that he cool get rid of this feeling, the only way he knew how.

He staggered along the path to the living room. Thankfully the rest of the flat was dark, all the lights were switched off and the curtains were all drawn. He found Greg's note on the table, relieved to find that he would be at Scotland Yard late that day.

He'd woken up that morning still immersed in Sherlock's smell. He frowned when he realized that he was alone. He'd thought… it didn't matter what' he'd thought because Sherlock wasn't there. Hadn't been there in months.

He missed the nights when he'd been there to hold onto. When John had been falling apart he'd always been so sure that everything would work out. He remembered the night after Jim had been found not guilty; he'd been terrified for him. For them both if he was to be completely honest. The detective had let him take the other side of his bed that night. Usually it was only a once a week occurrence, but after that it was every night save for the nights when Sherlock didn't come home. Those were sleepless nights.

The memory of what happened last night hit him. He recalled how frustrated Sherlock had gotten. How he'd given up on himself; he'd given up on John as well. He checked his phone to see if Sherlock had answered him while he'd been asleep. Nothing.

The cab ride to Greg's flat felt agonizingly long. Hopefully Sherlock would be thinking more clearly today. John knew that amnesia patients often got frustrated, but usually they could get passed it. Though he also knew Sherlock wasn't a normal patient.

The cab pulled up to Greg's, he knew that the detective had been called in for an early case. Greg had quite recently taken to Facebook and now updated his status with mostly things that had annoyed him. His statuses took up most of John's news feed. John knocked on the door with a balled fist. He waited for a couple of minutes before knocking again.

When there was still no answer he thought maybe Sherlock had gone with Greg to work on the case. He used his spare key (well the key Sherlock had pick pocketed from Greg years prior, John wasn't even sure if Greg knew he had it) and moved cautiously in the dark entryway.

"Sherlock?" He questioned as he continued to move through the flat. A quiet moan came from the living room. John entered to see Sherlock nearly comatose on the couch. The doctor part of him kicked in, checking Sherlock's vitals and pupils. His heart rate was elevated and his pupils slightly dilated.

John was going over what it could be in his head when he saw it. The needle had rolled off the coffee table and was now lying at the edge of the area rug. "Oh Jesus Sherlock, what have you done to yourself?"