As the day wore on Sherlock's symptoms got gradually worse. He became more irritable and generally bad tempered. John had managed to get him to eat at first but even that was becoming a struggle.

If the day had felt long the night was worse. Sherlock barely slept and when he did he was restless. John tried to nap in the arm chair when Sherlock was sleeping but it was hardly comfortable. By the following morning they were both exhausted.

John stood up, stretched and headed towards the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. "How does a boiled egg sound?" he asked Sherlock who hardly even acknowledged the question. He figured it was a light meal that Sherlock should be able to manage even though he'd started to feel a bit nauseous.

When the eggs and tea were ready he called "Breakfast's ready." but Sherlock didn't move. John walked into the living room. "Sherlock I said breakfast is ready."

"I know but I don't want any." Sherlock grumbled.

"You've got to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sherlock!" John said sternly.

Sherlock threw back the duvet, got up and stomped into the kitchen. He felt awful and the only thing he wanted right now were the drugs that would take all these symptoms away. John didn't understand. How could he?

Sherlock sat down at the table but only played with his food. John started to eat and after a few minutes he said "Sherlock you need to eat that."

"I'm not hungry!"

"Sherlock you need your strength."

"Well I'm not hungry." Sherlock knew John was only trying to help. But he wasn't helping was he? Helping would be giving him what he needed and that wasn't boiled eggs and tea. Sherlock could feel the anger rising inside him.

"Sherlock please eat your breakfast."

"I don't need food John I need drugs."

"No you don't"

"You don't know what I need. You have no idea. None at all. How could you?" Sherlock stood up from the table. Right now he hated the man sat across from him. Who was he to tell him what to do? What did he know?

John stood up. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock grabbed his plate from the table and threw it at John. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted him to suffer like he was suffering right now.

John looked shocked as the plate whistled past his ear and smashed against the wall behind him. It missed his head by millimetres. Sherlock was horrified by what he'd done. He'd really wanted to hurt John. His one true friend in all the world and he'd wanted to hurt him. Sherlock had an image in his head of what might have happened had his aim been better.

He turned and almost ran to his chair. He felt ashamed. How could he have done such a thing? He slumped into his chair and cradled his head in his hands. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and there was no way he could look at John after what he'd just done.

John stood for a few seconds unable to move, unable to take in what had just happened. He knew people suffering from withdrawal could be irritable but he hadn't expected such a violent outburst over something so trivial.

John pulled himself together and walked over to Sherlock. "Sherlock" he said calmly but Sherlock refused to look up. John knelt down in front of him and took hold of Sherlock's arms gently. "Sherlock it's OK."

"I can't do this John. I need it."

"You can do this."

"No I can't. I don't care anymore I just need it."

"You do care. You care if Moriarty wins. You can't let him Sherlock. And I care. We wouldn't be here if I didn't. You'd be doing this in some clinic, alone. But instead you're at home, with me, just as you wanted. But you made me a promise Sherlock, remember? To do everything I told you to do. Well now it's time to fulfil that promise and I'm telling you, you can do this. I'm telling you to be strong. We will make it, together." As he said these words John gently pulled on Sherlock's arms until he could see Sherlock's face. He put one hand gently under Sherlock's chin and eased his head up until Sherlock had to look at him. He smiled reassuringly. "It's OK." With his other hand John took Sherlock's pulse it was racing.

Sherlock looked in to John's eyes and all he saw was love. He felt his tears start to fall. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. "I'm sorry John. I'm so sorry." he sobbed. John got up from his knees, sat on the arm of the chair, put his arms around his friend and held him while he cried.

A few minutes passed and John's phone started to ring. He loosened his hold on Sherlock and sat back so he could see his face. "You OK?" he asked. Sherlock nodded and began to wipe his tear stained face with his hands. "I should get that." John said as he stood and walked over to the table where his phone lay.

"Hello John" It was Mycroft.

"Mycroft."

"How is he today?"

"Well it's been a long night, with not much sleep and he's feeling a bit rough today but we'll get there."

"And his symptoms?"

"Well he's feeling rather nauseous and the cravings have started but he's coping. Your brother's strong and he's not about to let the likes of Moriarty win now is he?"

"Do I take it that the little speech was as much for his benefit as mine?"

"Well possibly."

"You're a clever man John Watson. That's a good tactic. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so thanks Mycroft we'll be fine."

Sherlock had his eyes fixed on John for the whole conversation and as he put the phone down Sherlock spoke. "Thank you John." John frowned unsure what he was being thanked for. "For not telling Mycroft what I did." He still felt ashamed and he really didn't want his brother knowing.

"Well it's none of his business." John smirked. He was pleased to see that his comment brought the smallest of smiles to Sherlock's face. "Right, well I better get this mess cleaned up. Why don't you go and have a shower? Might make you feel a little bit more human." Sherlock didn't think it would help and couldn't really be bothered but after what he'd just done he wasn't going to argue. He rose from his chair, nodded and headed off down the hallway to the bathroom.

Once John heard the bathroom door shut and the shower start to run he flopped down into his chair and sighed. He'd never thought this was going to be easy but it was a whole lot harder than he'd ever imagined.