A/N: Look who's back? So my all-too low desk will give me a severe back problem for the time being, but it'll have to be doable until April. That's when I can afford buying a new swanky desk. You're probably wondering - where were you? Moving out during Christmas, and having a hectic January. The understatement of the year. Anyway 'hello'.

I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

Wonderwall, Oasis

1995, April

"Pills for...pills," he muttered, eyes turning sharply to the set of hazel ones that had been following him around since he'd gotten up this morning. Ignoring the girl he flicked his eyes across the rest of the room filled with disgruntled looking recluses, the majority of them posh kids who clearly were just waiting for their parents to pick them up after their time was over. Mycroft would do this of course, he thought accepting the Styrofoam cup the nurse handed him before she gave him a pointed look. She smiled sweetly the second he made a show of swallowing, tucking the pills just at the inside of his cheek.

"Sherlock, you'll be having a visitor in two hours - Nurse Gareth will follow you to the visitation room when that happens is that alright?" He nodded putting on a wide smile, glancing briefly at the wide-shouldered nurse called Gareth sporting a ginger beard who gave him a cheery wave from hovering over a pair playing a game of some kind with building blocks. The second he had a chance he elegantly coughed the pills out of his mouth, before dropping them into the nearest overgrown pot plant - they needed plants the nurses said, cheered up the place they said.

"You won't last long if you keep doing that-," said a voice, and he stared at the girl who'd been following him around un-elegantly, though he felt like she wasn't trying to disguise it whatsoever. She was hard to overlook wearing an oversize large black hoodie, her dark frizzy hair poorly hidden underneath the hood. She was also the only one he knew who wasn't rich, though clearly supported somehow.

"I don't intend to stay."

He had the feeling if he didn't reply she'd keep on following him, but he wasn't afraid she'd alert the nurses of his conceit.

"Neither did I, but-," she begun crossing her arms, clearly about to regale a tale he had no interest in listening to.

He wasn't there to make friends.

"I'm really not interested in your story."

"Wasn't really going to tell you a story."

"I doubt that."

"You must be fun at parties."

"I'm not."

She clucked her tongue, tilting her head to the side. "I'm Sally by the way, not that you asked."

"...Sherlock Holmes," he said.

"People don't usually give away their last names here. We're all just supposed to be on first name basis," she whispered before walking off with a laugh. "See you around Sherlock Holmes."

"Fun in rehab?" said Victor grinning at him. "I half-expected there to be this glass partition between us besides a telephone. I'm kind of disappointed it's a bunch of flowers and gossip mags."

"It's hardly prison," he said from his cushiony chair, the lounge for guests empty besides the pair of them.

"You look like-,"

"Hell?" he suggested aware that the bruises from his face hadn't entirely healed quite yet, the scrape above his brow still eerily in place, but there were thankfully no mirrors in the hall, he knew that several of the other patients kept away from him for that reason. That girl Sally was the first one to speak to him of all of them, and he'd been there two weeks already. He hadn't been expecting tea parties, though their little group sessions where everyone was expected to gush about their feelings certainly felt like that.

" - Better than the last time I saw you-," his friend said tapping on the arm of the chair. "Though that's not hard."

"Do we really need to talk about that?"

"Until the next time you almost die, then yeah, I'll stop bringing it up by then," Victor snapped and Sherlock could hear Gareth move in the background. "Sorry - sorry - didn't mean to raise my voice..."

He looked elsewhere, not wanting to see his friend's face, as he said, "I just overdid it a little..."

Victor scoffed loudly causing him to look at him, "Really? Because it seems to me that you did the one thing we both know many have died of - - you really wanted to die - didn't you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Do you have any idea how much I -,"

"Oh please don't bring in how you feel. I have enough with my therapy sessions faking emotions-,"

"- Care?" Victor bit out, nostrils flaring, as he leaned forward in his chair. "Do you want me to just walk away then? Because that's easier for you - oh - I can go and properly feel sorry about myself now - no one will stop me - you fucking dick."

"Your words - not mine," he said but Victor didn't grin or laugh it off.

"Molly left if that wasn't obvious enough? ...But that's what you planned wasn't it - to prove her right?"

He didn't reply, stonily looking ahead. Everything was a blur. He just remembered having a list tucked inside his jacket pocket. He remembered her shouting, her disappointment to know he'd been high every time they'd...

"You really proved her right then," Victor continued.

"Do you want me to get angry? To be upset that she left? What good would that do? Everyone leaves in the end. I was just saving her the trouble," he said in a quiet voice. "I slipped."

"On a mixture of cocaine and heroine? You slipped with a fucking speedball?"

"Not much different from you than am I?" he relished the look of Victor's retreating back when he left. Gareth called out for his friend's name, but he didn't turn around, the door just smacking shut in the distance.

As always, he was right.

"Didn't last long that visit of yours then?" she said appearing from the side shaking her head.

"What do you want?" he said tiredly from his seat. The television was on low volume in the background, other patients looming around it, peering on the outside word hungrily, the screens light illuminating their faces. He kept nearby for no reason, other than not wanting to disappear into his head - to replay - everything - constantly. He just needed a little bit more - a little rush, something to still the ache inside of him, and to make it disappear for a blissful amount of time.

"... I don't know," she said sitting down besides him with a sigh. "Company? Sex?" She didn't seem to be asking him. "To be honest - you just seemed like a freak... just like me."

He raised his brows, "Freak?"

"Everyone here makes excuses all the time, you know. It's either their mum or their dad or their rubbish friend, but not you. You blame yourself."

" - I've hardly spoken at those-,"

"I can see it on your face."

"It takes one to know one."

She grinned, "Knew you were a freak."