From cjnwriter: Habit
This is another Starlock story, and takes place something like a few months after Riandra's story "Better With Two" in Good Holmesians All, This Christmastide.
Sherlock is twenty-ish and kicked out of the Jedi Order after being framed in a political scandal. He's rescued from a mob beating by Njohn, an alien army medic and this universe's Watson. Ria's thread of Starlock stories ended with the pair about to embark on their first case together, Sherlock headed towards being a private detective on the lower levels of Coruscant.
I… don't really have to give a drug warning here, do I? We're in a fandom whose protagonist is a drug user...
==Day 11: Support System==
Beth L'Straid strolled leisurely through the lower levels of Coruscant to her destination, her customary scarf wrapped close around her head, concealing her Padawan haircut. If she ever made it to knighthood, she might actually leave off with the scarf, but until then, she felt safer with it on.
It had been almost eight months since Sherlock Holmes left the Jedi Temple, right before the Council could formally kick him out. Beth remembered the rush of anger she'd felt at that verdict, and it hadn't been Dark—it had been white-hot and pure, something she was certain no Jedi Master could ever understand. She'd burned with fury at the unfairness of it—Sherlock had not even had the chance to prove his innocence!
It had taken Beth the next four months to find Sherlock again. He had found himself a home with a Chiss healer, of all people, who worked as a general practitioner amongst Coruscant's infinitely diverse population. And Sherlock, never at ease lying idle, had set himself up as a private detective, tackling the many injustices that the police force never could manage on their own, and aided by his roommate, Njohn. Somehow, too, the idea of Sherlock Holmes being a detective felt very, very right, in a way that Sherlock-as-a-Jedi never had.
Reaching their front door at last, Beth rang the doorbell and waited. A few seconds later, it hissed open to reveal the pale blue skin and bright red eyes of Sherlock's roommate. "Beth, hello, do come in."
As Beth entered the house and, consequently, Njohn's consulting room, she said, "Hello, Sabosen'joh'nuruodo."
He smirked and clapped lightly. "Close. Very close, I must admit."
Beth groaned. "I've been practicing!"
"Well, bless you for that," Njohn soothed.
"Are all Chiss names that long?"
"Not at all. Mine happens to be especially long. So how are you? How are your studies?"
Beth shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I guess. Master Wynntir and I have an off-planet assignment next week."
"How much longer before you face your Trials? Aren't you a little old now?"
Beth snorted, grinning. "Excuse you, I'm only twenty-one! Genius Boy happened to be knighted early, that's all. Most Padawans aren't knighted until their mid-twenties. Speaking of Mr. Private Consulting Detective, is he home?"
"Mm-hmm." The good humor faded from Njohn's chiseled features, leaving a palpable apprehension in its wake. "I think he's in the common room."
Beth frowned. "Okay… thanks…" She walked towards the common room… and found Sherlock sprawled on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, pupils blown wide, breathing shallow, skin paler than ever and lightly beaded with sweat. "Sherlock!"
He startled upright, returning her stare. "Good grief, Beth, don't do that! Don't…" He gestured meaninglessly.
"Don't be shocked that you're high on spice?!" She couldn't believe it—they'd worked against spice smugglers before as teenagers, and he knew it was illegal and stupid! He'd met addicts, for crying out loud! "What are you taking?!"
"It's just glitterstim, and I'm not stupid!" He drew himself up with something like a facsimile of offended dignity.
Glitterstim. The most commonly-used spice and the kind that gave its users a telepathic boost. For a Force-sensitive, the effects would be powerful.
"Beth, it's amazing! You've got to try it."
She gave him a look of disbelief. "You don't need to read my mind to know what I think about that idea."
His expression turned sulky. "You don't understand."
"Oh, you're very right, there—I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do something so brainless and brain-damaging as using spice."
"My brain is already damaged—we've been over this before! The spice helps."
His depression. Most Jedi were neurotypical, with brains and brain chemistry that functioned properly. Sherlock had been one of the few Jedi in the Temple who were neuroatypical. The treatment varied according to the problem and the individual.
Sherlock suffered from depression. His master had emphasized meditation as his best defense against it.
"What about meditation? I thought that helped."
"It doesn't anymore," he said quietly.
"Then can't Njohn help you? There has to be a better way to deal with this thing than developing a spice addiction!"
"I'm not addicted! I only use when I'm not on a case."
"You're not addicted yet, you mean."
"Padawan L'Straid, if you refuse to listen to me, then I suggest you leave."
Beth glared at him, wanting nothing so much as to grab his thin shoulders and shake some sense into him. Calm, calm, calm, a Jedi is calm… She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she only felt sadness.
He's going to kill himself.
The hard look in Sherlock's grey eyes softened. "No, I won't. I promise."
Her chest hurt. "I don't believe you." She turned away and left the room, suddenly almost unable to breathe. This is why attachment is forbidden, isn't it.
Njohn was still patient-less in his consulting room, polishing his equipment. "How was it?" he murmured, not looking up at her.
Instantly, her anger found a new focus. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked up then. "He didn't want me to, and, Beth, I can't just go behind his back like that! And before you even ask, yes, I have tried talking to him about this. We end up arguing, every time, and he won't listen! You know how he is; how stubborn he can be! And now he has an addiction to back that stubbornness up…"
Her anger deflated at the concern in the healer's tone, she murmured, "How bad is it?"
"He uses at least once a day in-between cases now. The dosage isn't large—it's just enough to give his mind and his mood a boost. There is that," he said bitterly, looking down at the floor. "I don't know what to do. He won't stop, he won't try to go to a therapist, and I can't find one willing to come down here! I've felt less helpless treating terminal patients—at least then, I know there's nothing I can do!"
Beth suddenly felt very, very guilty. After a few seconds, she said softly, "He's your first real friend here, isn't he?"
Njohn hesitated, then nodded in mute misery. She still didn't know how exactly he had come to be here on Coruscant, far, far away from his people who weren't even part of the Republic… but she had to imagine that it was a lonely life. Or would have been, if not for a certain former-Jedi-turned-detective.
"Okay. Njohn, I'm sorry—I shouldn't have turned on you. I will… I'll think of something." She reached out and gripped his shoulder gently. "You're not alone in this, okay?"
He looked up, smiling faintly. "You're a very bad Jedi, do you know that? And I'm glad for it."
She smiled weakly back. Yes, she was a terrible Jedi, and she didn't know how to be anything else. "You have my com number. Keep me posted."
"Will do. And, Beth? Thank you."
She could feel his relief in the Force—how long had he been carrying this burden and been unable to relieve it? "No problem. Just wish me luck—coming up with a solution for this ain't gonna be easy."
A/N: So, yes, Star Wars has its own version of drugs, called "spice". Unfortunately, that was a detail that could fit only too well in a Sherlockian story… I had to make up the details of the effect on Sherlock's physical state, because it's been a decade since I've read the old Star Wars Expanded Universe and I no longer remember—and Wookieepedia wasn't very helpful in that regard!
This might be the last Starlock story for this month, because I feel kind of bad about foisting my AUs on you guys, even if you were all lovely about the first Starlock story! We'll see.
Next up… I think it's time to hear from the Napoleon of Crime properly, and his lieutenant, too!
