Author's Note:
So. I finally got back to this AU after a year of no updates. I am forever sorry that it's taken so long for me to update. I genuinely have no excuses except for the fact that I had no motivation or inspiration to continue. But I finally wrote this chapter! And I've planned out the rest of them. Hopefully this fic will be completed in 2014 (: I hope you don't hate me too much for not updating in forever, and I hope this chapter is good! Thanks so much for sticking by me. You're all wonderful.

This chapter has talk of suicide/self harm for trigger warnings. There is phone sex, also.

I would also like to add a few other warnings regarding characters in case you're curious when reading. Firstly, Luke hasn't stopped being supportive, he purely is allowing Sherlock what he needs. I did it on purpose. And another part, which you will find out, isn't as "hasty" as it may seem. I did it on purpose also, and as you read on you will see why. I hope those things don't bother you.

I also mention school uniform change as it's the summer term. I was unable to find a reliable source via google regarding what six formers ect wore during that term. I'm Australian and over here we have a summer and winter uniform which means pants/long skirts in winter and dresses/shorts in summer. So I used that. Just to clear that up. I hope it doesn't bother anybody.

This chapter isn't very long, either. I hope that's okay. I usually pressure myself to write at least 3,500 words per chapter, but I didn't feel like this chapter needed to be very long. I wrote what I wanted to. And I hope it leaves you wanting to know more. :)

Also a quick recap: Sherlock attempted suicide after John kissed Molly at Perny's birthday party, who threatened to beat him up if he did not comply. Sherlock broke up with John officially when he was told he needed to stay in a mental ward for 3 months.

Enjoy! Please.

Disclaimer: Sherlock is not mine.

When Sherlock came to the conclusion that John obviously was not going to ever call him back during the period he would be staying in the mental health ward, he spent the majority of his time asleep. When he slept, much to his convenience he did not dream, which meant he was able to temporarily forget about how he and John were officially broken up. When he was asleep, he did not have to face Mrs Hudson and her constant tear filled eyes, or Mycroft and his stupid umbrella. He didn't have to see Luke, or the other psychiatrists, or the nurses forcing him to eat and take medication, or the doctor's. When he was asleep, everything was at peace. He almost didn't exist.

"Still hasn't called you back then?"

Luke's voice awoke Sherlock from his trance like state as he stared out the window, gazing upon the rain as it fell miserably onto the pavement. He had been sitting with Sherlock in silence for a good half an hour now, as he hadn't bothered to speak to Luke once since he entered the room.

"Come on, mate. You'll put me out of a job if you don't talk." Luke said almost frantically.

Sherlock shifted his gaze to his knees that were tucked beneath his chin. "No."

"No?"

"He hasn't."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Sherlock glanced over at Luke. "Do you know what it's like to need someone?"

"We don't need people, Sherlock. We think we do. It's a mind trick. Relying on people is unhealthy."

"I shall rephrase. Do you know what it's like to think you need someone?"

"Of course." Luke replied slowly. "I think everybody does."

"Then you should know that it makes me feel like shit. I feel like I'm on fire. I feel like I'm dying. Okay?"

Sherlock glared at his counsellor, and though he was sad, he felt too incredibly numb in order to actually feel that physically. He was stuck inside a fucking mental health ward with nothing to do every single day. He hated the people there, both patients and staff. They were all as daft as each other and incredibly dull. He didn't belong here. He didn't attempt suicide because the therapy stopped working. He attempted suicide because he made that decision and his plan was not to fail.

"Do you feel like self harming at all?" Luke queried.

Sherlock grunted. "All the time. You know that. But that's not what this is about and you know it. You know that I have the skills to find other ways of coping. I wanted to die that night. I wasn't searching for a coping mechanism."

"We don't want you to try and kill yourself again, mate."

"All of you psychologists are so stupid. If somebody wants to die, desperately, and tries to kill themselves, you can bet they will try again. You can't stop somebody from feeling suicidal and you can't stop somebody from attempting. It's their conscious decision in that moment. Nobody can change the way a person thinks, apart from themselves. You're wasting your time, Luke. I just want to get out of this hell hole."

"… Okay. Well. I think I might leave you to it and give you the space you seem to want. But remember I'll be a phone call away and I'll still be here next week for our usual session."

"Fine." Sherlock grumbled.

"Have a good one, mate…"

Sherlock turned away from his counsellor and continued to stare out of the window. It was so dull here. He wanted to be at home in the sanctuary that was his bedroom where everything familiar was. He wanted to be back with Mrs Hudson. He wanted to be back with John.

Slowly rising from his chair, Sherlock took a few steps only to then collapse face first onto his hospital bed and close his eyes. He may as well just go to sleep after all. It was the only way to pass the time in this place, after all. But just as he was starting to fall into slumber, his phone started to vibrate on the bedside table as if it were ringing. Lazily, Sherlock reached over for it and hit answer; blocked number.

"Hello?"

"… It's me."

Sherlock forgot how to breathe. "J-John…?"

"This was a bad idea. I should go."

"No! Please, John! Just… A few minutes."

John exhaled. "Okay…"

"How are you…?" Sherlock clutched the phone tightly.

"I'm doing okay. You?"

"I miss you like crazy. It's horrible in here."

There was a silence for a moment. Sherlock's stomach was in knots and his mouth was completely dry, making it impossible to swallow. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his face growing hot.

"Sherlock, I… I miss you too…" John finally replied, his voice shaky.

"So let's get back together. I need you."

"I just… Three months is a long time. You even said so yourself."

"But you love me. Is it the sex? We could always do it over the phone." Sherlock felt himself hardening at the thought.

"It's not just about the sex! Actually it's not even about the se - Jesus Christ, you're hard aren't you?"

Sherlock blushed and accidentally brushed his hand against his crotch. "No." He lied.

"You sodding great liar." John laughed lightly.

"Well, are you going to help with it…?"

A pause. Then a sharp intake of air. "How hard are you?"

"Quite…" Sherlock bit his lip. "Are you?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"On my bed in the room." Sherlock laid down. "Are you on yours?"

"Mm." There was a moan. "Are you… Touching yourself?"

Sherlock tightened his grip on the phone, sliding his free hand over the bulge in his pants and letting a quiet moan escape him. He could hear John making similar noises on the other line and he closed his eyes, relishing in those glorious sounds. It had been too long since Sherlock had had phone sex and he had missed it greatly.

"I'll take that moan as a yes." John breathed. "Keep going. I-I want to hear you…"

"Ugh, John… Mm… You too…"

John moaned generously and it went straight to Sherlock's groin. Not being able to control himself any longer, he stuffed his hand into his underwear and gripped his cock harshly. He whimpered. This wouldn't take long. Especially not with John breathing erratically and being unable to keep a control on his constant moaning on the other end of the phone.

"Mm… Say my name…" Sherlock sighed, pumping himself.

"Ah! Sh-Sherlock… Oh God, I'm so close already."

Sherlock groaned, taking a more firm hold of his dick and rubbing hard and fast. He chewed on his lip, eyes shut tightly, and his body beginning to spasm as his climax began to grow nearer and nearer. John was already there, and Sherlock could hear his small cries of ecstasy as the orgasm took its toll.

"Please cum, Sherlock. Please!" John so much as gasped.

"Fuck."

He felt his balls tightening as he started to cum and felt his back arching, a moan of John's name escaping his lips. Sherlock started to quiver in spasms as his orgasm took over, squirt after squirt, making a mess all over his tshirt and hospital bed. With a final grunt, he released his now softening cock and threw his head back onto the pillows, sighing deeply in exhaustion. That had been pretty damn amazing.

"How could you do this?" John's voice suddenly snapped.

Sherlock jumped abruptly. "Do what? What's wrong?"

"You break up with me, but then ask me to call you. When I finally do after a week of deciding, the first thing you want to do is have fucking phone sex. Do you even care about me at all?"

"I thought you wanted to!"

"Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable."

Sherlock frowned. "Now hang on. I'm in here because what you did made me feel like dying. Even though you told me you loved me. You initiated the phone sex yourself by asking me how hard I was. I lied at first because I wasn't sure we should. It seems like you're getting angry at me to cover up something you've done. So, tell me, John. How long?"

"… What do you mean how long?" John sounded nervous.

"How long have you been sleeping with Perny?"

The other line went quiet and Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. He felt sick. His hands were shaking. He hoped he had assumed incorrectly. Surely John wouldn't actually stoop that low and have sex with the person who wanted Sherlock to kill himself. John was better than that.

"I just… Sherlock I'm sorry… It's only happened once, and we didn't have sex, I swear." John was sobbing softly.

Sherlock's face fell instantly. "And I'm the unbelievable one. Why would you want anything to do with him?"

"I was upset and vulnerable and drunk. And Perny was just… He was there. We just made out and felt each other up a bit… It meant nothing."

"I can't believe you, John. He wanted me to kill myself. And why? Because he wanted you to himself?"

John sniffled harshly. "He told me he'd loved me for a long time. But was ashamed that he liked guys. He's an extremely jealous person and so he was really angry when he thought you were a threat. He didn't even actually know you truly liked me until the party…"

"So you decided to get off with him? Jesus fucking Christ. Just… What the fuck, John?!" Sherlock could feel himself growing angrier by the minute.

"I'm sorry! I know it's not an excuse that I was drunk, but it honestly meant nothing! I love you! I do! I swear it. And I want you. Please believe me."

"I have to go."

A loud sob escaped John. "Please, Sherlock. Please."

Raging, Sherlock didn't bother to answer and hit the end button on his phone. Before John could call back, he switched it off. He was so angry that he was shaking. He threw himself off the bed, ignoring the mess he still had all over himself. How could John do this to him? Did he ever love Sherlock at all? Was it all a complete and utter lie?

"Fuck!" He shouted, throwing his phone at wall.

He watched it as it made contact with the hard plaster and then break, bits of plastic falling onto the ground. Sherlock clenched his hands at his sides and tried to remain calm, taking in deep breaths. It was taking everything he had to not find something to self harm with, or even punch the wall. How was he supposed to rid himself of this anger and this pain?

But he knew what to do. It was the only option that was safe and would work the best. Inhaling and exhaling deeply again, Sherlock slowly laid himself down onto the bed and closed his eyes. He allowed his mind to block out all thoughts and then he let his entire body relax. Sleep came easily and quickly.

When he slept, everything was at peace. When he slept he almost didn't exist.

It was the week after his release and Sherlock hadn't felt this at peace in his whole life. After his phone call with John, he was certain he was going to go insane. For a good month or so, he did nothing but sleep, and when he couldn't sleep he would simply stare at the wall opposite his bed until he felt tired again. On the odd occasion he would eat, but he felt too numb to ever be hungry.

When his last month on the ward began, Luke arrived for his usual visit and basically informed Sherlock he wasn't putting up with his moping crap anymore and that they needed to start working together again and figure out how they were going to turn things around so he could be released as soon as possible. This woke Sherlock up a bit and he decided that he did actually want to get out of that godforsaken place sooner rather than later. So he cooperated for the remaining three weeks and made a lot of progress.

After a whole lot of discussion, and anger and admittedly, tears, Sherlock decided he had forgiven John and still wanted to be with him. What he did still hurt, but Sherlock loved that boy more than anything and honestly believed that he needed him. And now that he would be returning to school, Sherlock was determined to make amends and hopefully get his boyfriend back.

"Are you sure you're ready to go back today?" Mrs Hudson popped her head around Sherlock's door. "You could always take another week off if you need to."

He straightened his tie for the final time. "Positive. I need to go back. It's the last few months of summer term anyway. I need to get as much work done as possible so I can get a good score."

"I'm really proud of you, Locky. This has been such a difficult year."

Sherlock smiled fondly at his adopted mother and went over to hug her before he left. She held onto him tightly for a moment before releasing him. He left the flat in high spirits, hoping he would be able to see John today and at least talk to him and see how he was going. He had missed him so much during his time on the ward and even seeing his handsome face would be enough to make Sherlock's entire day.

The familiar school gates were approaching and Sherlock caught himself almost smiling. Three months stuck inside a hospital clearly messed up your mind if he was excited to be back at school, the bane of his existence. He chuckled to himself, allowing the smile to break across his face as he entered the grounds of Swatchton Grammar. The sun was shining and it was that time of the school year where the boys wore shorts and the girls dresses, but still having to don their navy blazers.

"Hey! Sherlock!"

He turned his head in the direction of Lestrade's voice and waved, watching as his only friend began to jog over to him. Much to his surprise, Anderson and Sally Donovan were following him. How unusual. Perhaps they wished for his help with their chemistry homework?

"What are you two doing here?" He asked bluntly as they approached.

"Nice to see you too, Freak." Sally smiled.

Anderson rolled his eyes. "We wanted to make sure you were okay if that's alright with you."

"Fine."

"We thought you were dead. The least you could do is show some gratitude that we care." Anderson shot back.

Sally laughed. "I think that is Freak's way of showing gratitude."

"It's really not." Sherlock said bluntly.

Lestrade grinned widely. "Glad to have you back, mate."

With another tight smile, Sherlock departed without explanation like he always did and began the walk toward home class. He was admittedly bubbling with excitement, quite unlike him, purely because he wanted to see John. Luke had warned him that getting his hopes up too high was dangerous, that they could easily be crushed, but Sherlock didn't care right now. He was so happy he even nodded at some of the students that were staring at him as he moved swiftly along classrooms and buildings.

It wasn't long until Sherlock reached the room he longed to be in; something he never thought he would say in a million years. Anxiety filled his stomach, and he could feel his fingers tingling at his sides. The morning bell rang. This was it. He was about to see John again. After three months, Sherlock was about to see that gorgeous, blonde boy that he had missed so much.

As he placed is hand on the door knob and started to turn it, Sherlock could hear John's voice inside the room. He was laughing and the sound was like music to Sherlock's ears. He had missed that beautiful chuckle and the way it made a smile spread across his own face, just as it was right now.

With a deep breath, he pulled the door open and instantly scanned the room for John, ignoring all of the faces staring at him because of his return. There was Molly, sitting beside Jakob and Sasha. They had disregarded him completely and were chatting about something on Sasha's phone. Further along was Jonathan and Lachlan. Lachlan was staring right at Sherlock, looking shocked and Jonathon had turned his head to the left. He looked worried about whatever he was now staring at.

Curious, Sherlock continued searching and moved further along the row of separated tables. And there he was. John Hamish Watson. Sitting at his table, staring right ahead at Sherlock, mouth agape, cheeks blushing. Sherlock was certain he could see sweat forming along his forehead. As he smiled at the other boy, John's immediate response was to look down and blush even deeper. And then it made sense. As Sherlock allowed his eyes to glance next to John, he froze, in the middle of the doorway. There was Roland Perny, sitting beside him. Underneath the desk, their fingers were entwined together. Sherlock couldn't breathe.

John and Perny were together.