Honestly, I just like writing angst...
TW for drugs
"And if you go there now, you might be able to catch him in the act!" Sherlock Holmes called after his client, who was rushing from the room in tears.
"Sherlock, what was that?!" John Watson exclaimed angrily.
"What? Her boyfriend is cheating on her with a math teacher, she has an undiagnosed mental illness, and her father is selling drugs in her childhood home."
"She came to us for help, and instead, what did you do? You told her things she would rather not know, and you humiliated her in front of strangers!" he replied, getting up.
"But not knowing, isn't that worse?" Sherlock asked, standing and looking his friend in the eye.
John sighed in exasperation. He'd had a long, tiring, hard day at work, and his friend was getting on his nerves a bit.
"Can't you just use a bit of tact, Sherlock?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"Don't you have to pick Rosie up soon?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Soon. Was she alright with you while I was at work?"
"Oh, just fine. We played a few games, and did an experiment."
"Really? What kind of experiment? It was safe, right?" John inquired.
"Ah, no one was hurt-"
"-Good."
"-Except the microwave. It exploded."
"What?! Sherlock, you promised you wouldn't do these kinds of experiments when Rosie was with you!" John said. He could feel his anger bubbling to the surface and tried to keep it in check.
"I don't see the problem, no one was hurt, and we can always get another microwave," Sherlock answered.
John lost the fight with his anger.
"That's not the point! You promised you wouldn't do that, but yet you did! My daughter could have been seriously hurt or worse!" he snapped.
"John, really, I'm sorry and I won't do it again," Sherlock replied, looking a little startled at his friend's outburst.
"That's what you said last time! Just be a little more careful, will you? You have no regard for others, Sherlock! You go around pointing out people's affairs, and secrets they would rather not have shared with the world, you do dangerous experiments and you have no respect for anyone else! Can't you just be less of a freak?!" John yelled, and threw a hand in the air in frustration.
He instantly regretted that action when he saw Sherlock flinch and shrink back.
"Oh, God, Sherlock, I didn't mean to-" he began.
"It's fine, just...forget about it," he muttered and began to walk away quickly.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"I need some air."
John slumped back into his chair. He couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot, Sherlock probably thought he was going to beat him up again, just like he did after Mary died.
What a despicable act that had been, and clearly, Sherlock hadn't forgotten it.
And then he went and called him a freak. John had always hated when people called his friend that, and then he went and did it too.
Hours passed, and still Sherlock didn't come back. Mrs. Hudson had picked Rosie up instead, and after seeing John's face, hurriedly decided to watch Rosie until Sherlock returned.
John poured another glass of whiskey, and kept on staring at the door, willing his friend to come back.
After another hour, he got up, put on his coat, and headed out to look for him.
He called Molly, and he wasn't at the lab, nor was he with Lestrade.
John sighed. He'd been walking for a while, checking all Sherlock's usual hangouts.
Well, not all of them.
Please, please don't be there. Please don't do it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
He ran until he reached the drug den and entered cautiously.
"Sherlock? Mate, you there?" he called softly.
He continued walking through the drug den before reaching the last bed. He recognized the matted curls immediately and ran to his friend's bedside.
"Hey, Sherlock, come on, wake up," he whispered.
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed, and opened an eye.
John leaned over and sighed when he saw the bloodshot eyes with dilated pupils.
"What did you take?"
"John?" he slurred.
"Yeah, it's me. Now, what did you take?"
"Dunno," he mumbled.
"Okay, well, let's get home, shall we?"
He hauled Sherlock to his feet, and bundled him into a taxi before helping him into bed.
"Alright, just sleep, okay? You'll feel a bit better tomorrow," John said reassuringly.
"Mmm."
John closed the door and put his head in his hands.
How could he have been stupid, he triggered this, Sherlock was doing so well before this…
He fell asleep in his armchair and awoke to Sherlock sitting across from him.
"Cocaine, opium, and marijuana," he said softly.
"Oh God...look, Sherlock, I need to apologize. I never should've called you that, and I'm so sorry. And I shouldn't have raised my hand. I'm really, truly, sorry. Do you think you could forgive me?"
Sherlock looked at his friend and nodded once, allowing the ghost of a forgiving smile creep onto his face.
John exhaled, and it felt like everything was alright again.
His friend wasn't on the verge of an overdose, and more important, he had forgiven him.