From mrspencil: a resolution is broken almost immediately


If it were in me to forsake my addiction for Watson's peace of mind, then I would have done so many years before. It would have been only he who might have persuaded me. Each disappointed glance, each impassioned plea, each look of resignation when he observed the fresh tracks on my arm shamed me deeply and I hid my use from him as much as possible, for I did so hate to see his disapproval. In the end, however, I did not break my addiction for his sake.

The year following Professor Moriarty's death at Reichenbach was the hardest of the three I spent travelling the continent in anonymity. His agents were a constant at my back and communications with Mycroft were sparse, for fear they might be intercepted. With money so low I knew I had none to spare on such frivolities as cocaine and morphine, and yet the drugs called to me regardless. I did not indulge as I might have in London, but upon New Years' Eve - spent alone in a disused stable in Northern Italy - I resolved that I would cease my use of it altogether, so as to better manage my funds. I had been forced to pawn my pocket watch several days before and so was unsure whether we had yet passed into 1892 when I made the resolution, but fell asleep certain in the knowledge that this next year - at least - I would not touch either drug.

I had erred, however, for when I awoke (this time certain I had entered into the new year) I remembered that I had not yet finished the last of my supplies. Reasoning that to not do so would be only a waste, I used up the final hypodermic of my 7% cocaine solution before continuing my journey.

I moved on through Italy toward France, donning a disguise and speaking to no one. Within a few hours the cocaine-induced energy was spent, and I found myself irrationally bitter that my final experience with the drug had not worked so well nor lasted as long as I had expected. I used the last of the money from my pocketwatch's sale to book into a small guesthouse for the night. The next morning I awoke in one of the blackest moods I had ever experienced, my gut aching for the cocaine, for anything to haul me from this pit.

With no options left to me I went to the telegram office and wired Mycroft. To this day I thank whatever Providence or fate there is that the communication did not alert any of Moriarty's men to my whereabouts. If it had done, I would never have made it back to England and even Mycroft would never have known exactly what became of me.

I never told Watson the extent to which I battled with my addiction - for addiction I had finally seen it was - over those next two years. After my return he knew something had changed from the missing Moroccan case and he was always careful to keep his Doctor's case and the temptations within it far from my reach. We never spoke of the issue, but he is more observant than many give him credit for. More importantly, he knows how it is to reach your lowest ebb and rise up from it again. I am certain he recognised that in me.