LTW 11

It was a slow day. A slow and rather uneventful day. In fact, it had been a rather slow, uneventful three weeks.

John sighed, tapping his pen and looked at the digital clock on his desk. No appointments for the rest of the day and he had only seen to a few walk-ins. Once again, his idle mind wandered back to Sherlock. His brows creased with worry, more so than usual for Sherlock had truly not been himself lately.

He spoke less and spent more and more time in his room or locking himself in the kitchen. At first, John had figured that he was feeling a bit touchy and embarrassed about the whole "mug incident" but as time went on, he began to suspect that the real cause ran much deeper.

Sherlock never spoke of his therapy sessions. John couldn't blame him but he did wonder if something had happened there to clam him up so much and shuddered to think what could have possibly silenced Sherlock Holmes.

Suddenly, and rather serendipitously, John's phone rang –not his office phone, his mobile- and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He quickly fumbled it out of his pocket and answered with a tense, "Hello?"

"Hello, Dr. Watson?" a familiar female voice inquired.

"Speaking."

"This is Sherlock's psychiatrist, Dr. Donnelly."

"Yes, hello," John replied, cold anxiousness unfurling in his stomach, "Is something wrong?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me," said Abby, sounding to John a bit anxious herself.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

There was a pause and then, "You mean, you don't know? He's so close to you, I thought he would…this is upsetting."

"Know what?" John was beginning to feel like someone was playing a horrible joke on him.

"Sherlock hasn't been coming to his scheduled appointments for three weeks now."

John's mouth dropped open and Abby might have said something else but it was entirely lost on John. Three weeks? He had dropped him off in front of the building every day! He could picture it in his head now: John disappearing from view and Sherlock casually making his way back to Baker Street.

"Dr. Watson?" Doctor Donnelly was saying and John was trying very hard to choose between confusion and anger.

"I'm here, I just… I don't understand. Why would he? I mean, I know he didn't like it but why now? Did something happen?"

"I think it was my fault," she said quietly, her voice filled with disappointment, "I did something rash because I thought it would help, I really did…but I fear it's done more harm than good."

Anger seized hold of John for the moment. Anger at Abby. "What. What did you do?"

"I used a technique," her voice was thin and uncertain, "It's rarely used but he was struggling so hard with his past…I could see it and I wanted to help but," she took a breath to regroup, "I hypnotized him."

John blinked, "What?"

"I used hypnosis to get at the repressed memories of his childhood. It seemed like the only way at the time. I shouldn't have…and he took it badly. When he panicked, I snapped him out of it. He was shaking and I tried to help him but he was crying and angry and he pushed me away and ran.

"When he didn't come back the next week, I supposed I deserved it. He was still upset. The second week, I began to worry and said I'd give him one more chance. This was it and I had to contact you because he hasn't answered his phone all day."

John was still processing this information. This amount of rage took some time to fully mount and he wasn't sure where to direct it. He was angry at himself for making Sherlock see a psychiatrist in the first place. He was angry at Abby for putting him through this and he was angry at Sherlock for not saying something.

"I'm so sorry," she was still saying, "I'm sorry for all of this. I feel horrible about it."

"Why'd you have to do that to him?" John finally exploded, having to physically rise from his desk, "You're supposed to help people, not torture them!"

Deep down, he knew that she did not deserve this but all he could picture was what she had described: Sherlock, shaking, traumatized, utterly alone, and worse than ever. Worse because of her. She made him this way. Her fault. She hurt him.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice quavering, "I thought I was helping him! It's clear to me now what he really needs, John. It became clear that very day. He needs you, only you, to look after him. He cares so much about you."

John's temper dampened momentarily in light of this statement and he took a steadying breath before answering her.

"Thank you for calling Miss Donnelly," John sniped and abruptly ended the call. He snatched up his coat and hollered at Sarah that he had to run, emergency. He heard her call after him but he was already out the front door.

…

Sherlock had already begun to sweat. He had found his supply of liquid morphine completely drained that morning. He didn't really remember drinking it but he must have done. There was another phial, wasn't there? There had to be just enough to inject. Just enough to get him though the day and he'd steal some more tomorrow.

He staggered into the sitting room, his heart beating fast and loud in his ears. With a trembling hand, he reached into the eye socket of the skull and felt around, stretched his long fingers until-yes! He pulled it through roughly and nearly knocked the skull from the mantle. With the little bottle held tight in his clammy palm, he turned around.

And saw John.

"Sherlock."

"John…I" his mouth hung open for a minute, "You're at work. This time of day. You're at work."

"Got a call from Abby," John replied, his voice deathly calm and more frightening than a shout.

Sherlock swallowed and searched for something to say to get him out of this. John held his ground, his dark blue gaze boring into him. He knew.

Of course he knew. He could spot it a mile off. How long had he been at it now? Three weeks? And how much? His sleeve was rolled up to the elbow. With disdain, he saw several fresh track marks marring the pale skin. He had his hand around Sherlock's wrist before he knew it.

"How long?"

Sherlock couldn't deny it now. "Since I stopped seeing Abby."

"How often?"

"Not often enough."

"How often?" John growled, his grip on Sherlock tightening.

"Constantly."

John's body vibrated with silent rage and he noticed Sherlock's other fist closed tight around something. "Give it to me."

Sherlock didn't respond, only stood his ground and stared at John with wild eyes. "Give it. To me," John demanded once again and Sherlock tried to run.

He had barely managed to wrench his wrist away before John had him around the middle and forced him easily to the ground. Sherlock fought and cursed as John sat on him, constricting his left arm and leaving only the right to fight and guard his drug. John snatched his hand and pried open his fingers as Sherlock writhed angrily beneath him, trying frantically to throw him off.

John had it. He was off Sherlock in a flash and sprinted to the kitchen sink. Sherlock chased him, his head feeling terribly sideways. "John! Don't you dare!"

"You'll thank me later." He raised up his hand and Sherlock knew what he was going to do. He reached for him but John held his hand high and smashed the phial into the sink.

Anger surged up so powerfully within him that it took the sting in his hand to realize that he had struck John so hard he had landed on the floor. The rage melted away and left him gaping, floundering for words. "John. I…God. John." He stumbled forward and reached down to him, trying to help him up. John simply held up his hand in silence and rose to his feet.

He stared at Sherlock with such hurt and resolution that it made Sherlock's heart ache.

"Enough, Sherlock. Enough."

"John-

"Shut up. You're better than this. We both know it." There was silence for a few long moments that hung thickly in the air like a third body before John finally spoke again. "We'll fix this, together. Struggle all you like but I'm not going to give up on you. I never have and I never will."

Those were the last words Sherlock knew before he descended rapidly into Hell.

(A/N: So Abby is a shit psychiatrist and John is going to make it better. Sorry it took so ridiculously long this time around! I never did say I was quick ^^' Please review, if you've stuck with me.)