So I had this chapter already written out and then my computer shut down and I was like fuck it. So I have been avoiding for awhile. I was trying to punish it for it's insolence, but then I realized that it was a website and couldn't help that it was entirely inadequate. So here is the long awaited chapter.
Sherlock was doing fine. Better than he had when he came back from the fall, better than that stupid broken leg and he was not going to let the world get to him. Nope, not at all. He was completely fine. Never been better. He didn't really get depressed anymore (not thaT he ever was) and he had cases.
But then that was stripped from him. London had been unusually quiet. No cases. No work. No sanity. Sherlock was already on edge from the medication and now he had to worry about having nothing to do. He was bored. It was almost to the point of shoving cigarets in his mouth when he decided crap Telly was his best option.
"In other news, it is the 3rd anniversary of The Riechenback Fall. The day Sherlock Holmes fooled everyone by planning a fake suicide." The reporter said.
Sherlock couldn't breath. That was the day he let down everyone. The day he let down John, his best friend. The room got smaller and he felt the walls pushing into his body. Not allowing any breath to come without difficulty. He felt the panic set in and knew something was happening. No! Not...not gonna. Don't do it! Don't jump you melodramatic freak. Don't jump. Don't you fucking do it. Stop! Don't! Get of your fucking Cross, someone needs the wood!STOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPP!"
Sherlock felt something touch him and Sherlock whipped his hand around and punched the thing touching him.
"Ow!" John cried.
"I'm so sorry John, I don't, I didn't, I mean..." Sherlock stumbled.
"It's okay, you're fine. You're fine." John soothed.
"I didn't..." Sherlock tried to explain. "I'm broken."
"I know, that!'s why I'm here." John joked.
"I can't fix it." Sherlock said brokenly.
"I know that's why I want you to see a therapist. Please, this has to stop." John said.
"Therapist know nothing about me a and they are idiots, I don't want to." Sherlock pouted.
"That's why I didn't ask you to. I told you too."
