"Jesus, we can't take our eyes off him that this happens?"
"Oh, he's gonna hear me!"
His eyes still closed, Sherlock heard two men speaking. Although their voices sounded like they were far in the distance, the detective could tell they were standing next to him and were talking about him. He slowly opened his eyes to see what all that was about. His head ached so bad he thought it would explode.
A bit dazed, he looked around his surroundings and realised he'd spent the night sleeping next to some dumpsters.
How did I bloody get here? He thought.
"Oh, he's awake!" Said one of the two men, who revealed himself to be his brother, Mycroft. "Sherlock Holmes, what in the world were you thinking?" he shouted, angrily.
"Don't speak so loudly!" Sherlock groaned. "head aches."
"I'm gonna speak as loud as I want after what you did last night!" Mycroft barked. He then kneeled down to be at his brother's eye level. "I can't believe you wandered about the city at night, unsupervised, stalked two people and then kicked a dumpster until you got tired and blacked out!"
"What? I don't remember any of this!" Sherlock said, defensively.
"Of course you don't remember!" said the other man, who turned out to be Lestrade. "You took such a high amount of alcohol in your system that we're surprised you're still alive!"
As the other two spoke, pieces of the night before started coming back to Sherlock.
He had snuck out of his house, roamed the streets of London looking for a case to solve... Oh, that's right...
He had seen John.
After seeing him locking lips with that ugly giraffe-like man, Sherlock had gone into a random bar, gotten drunk out of his mind and then expressed his drunken rage on a dumpster.
Oh John, that prick. Not even a month after leaving him, that he'd already found a rebound.
Judging from his deductions, the detective assumed John had not been with this guy for long, so that meant he had not started dating him when he was still with Sherlock, but that didn't mean he was forgiven.
One bloody month and John was already snogging someone else.
Sherlock had chosen not to run after them and punch them both, rather he thought taking out his anger on them could have done more harm than good.
So, he'd chosen to harm himself, instead.
"Explain that to me!" Mycroft basically spat in his brother's face. "You tried again, uh?"
"John." Sherlock simply said.
"Oh Christ, I have had it with this John. You're obsessed with him! You can't just do something stupid every time you think of him!"Mycroft uttered in exasperation.
" No, John. I saw him last night... With another guy. He's replaced me already. So instead of going after them, I trashed myself." Sherlock said with a shrug.
"Christ, Sherlock. Where did I go wrong?" the oldest Holmes said as he rubbed his face. "I had prepared drones, had Mrs Hudson basically stalk you 24/7 and you still found a way to go and do crazy stuff?"
"Sorry if I say something inconvenient, but, perhaps, putting an old woman in charge of Sherlock wasn't the cleverest idea? I mean, she fell asleep too early to stop him from running away." Lestrade intervened.
"I would have escaped even if I'd had you baby me, Craig." Sherlock said with a hint of cockiness. "The only thing I'm trying to understand is, how did you find me? I'm guessing as soon as Martha woke up - I'd say about 5 am - she called you, desperate, because she thought I had attempted to do something. Since I'd left my phone at home, you searched within the 5 mile radius and asked every Bar or restaurant to give you CCTV footage, until said footage led you to me, am I correct?" he continued.
"Yes. That's what happened. And I got to this conclusion: either you accept the rules we tell you to respect, or we'll lock you up in some facility. Do you hear me?" Mycroft shouted, taking hold of his brother's shirt.
Sherlock had never seen him so angry before. He was livid. He looked at Mycroft's hands, which were gripping on the fabric of his clothes, then swallowed a lump of anxiety in his throat.
" Ok... Won't happen again... You see, I'm still alive..." said Sherlock, a bit scared of his brother.
Mycroft sighed deeply. "You're going to give me a heart attack, one day. Now, come on, let's go back home. And I want you to know this. I know you think this is too much for you, like we're not giving you your freedom, but this is for your own good. You're suicidal, so leaving you alone would basically mean to kill you." he let go of Sherlock's shirt.
Then, he rose back to his feet and helped his brother do the same, offering his hand.
Sherlock just nodded. In order to be left alone, he had to appear sane, or like he was doing good.
That way, he could have also gone through with the revenge he was already planning to take on John.
John came home at 6 am on that Sunday morning. He'd spent the night drinking with Oliver - and they'd drunk a lot.
When he set foot into his sister's house, he was still pretty drunk.
He stumbled to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, not realising that his daughter was right there, witnessing it.
A few hours later he was shaken awake by Harry, who was pretty pissed.
"John. Wake up!" she shouted.
John was startled awake, so he almost screamed out of fear.
"What?" He said, groggy.
"Why did Rosie come crying to me earlier, saying she saw daddy die?" Harry asked, serious.
"Oh no, Rosie! Where is she? I have to tell her daddy is fine!" John said, concerned. He wasn't drunk anymore and the hangover was beginning to take on him.
"Compose yourself, please. You come home at 6 am, drunk - you smell an awful lot like alcohol - and then you traumatise your young daughter?" Harry said, trying to get her brother to sit straight.
"John, I've told you before. If you want to live here, there is no way you can come home in this condition." she said sternly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be something to worry about... I had a few drinks with Oliver and then I must have fallen asleep on the couch with Rosie watching me do so." John said, trying to excuse himself.
"I get that you had fun, but you know what alcohol does to you. You could have hurt Rosie, even without realising, and that's why I'm telling you to stop doing this. If you want to get trashed, then don't come home, ok? And next time, tell me when you're coming back, because you left without telling me and I had to stay up all night trying to soothe your daughter to sleep. And if you ever behave like this again, I am kicking you out. " Harry warned.
" I won't disappoint you again... It was just a moment... "John said, shameful.
" I hope so." Harry sighed. "Look, John, I've been through a rough breakup myself, so I know what you're feeling right now. You're deeply sad, you want to stay high all the time. And you're looking for this high with sex and alcohol, but this will slowly destroy you if you don't do it moderately." as she said so, she sat next to him on the sofa.
"What I also know," she continued "is that in my case, separation was the best option. But, are you sure that it's the same for you?" she asked.
John sighed. The truth was, he didn't know.
Leaving Sherlock had not really solved much. There was no emotion in his relationship with Oliver, or with how he lived his days.
He was slowly beginning to break down and there was no way to hide it anymore. Drinking until 6 am?
Something he hadn't done since his twenties.
He'd done it because he needed it to take his mind off Sherlock. Everything he did was to avoid thinking of him, but that didn't work.
Whenever he was holding or feeding Rosie, he would inevitably be reminded of when his boyfriend would help him do so.
He would also get flashes of him when working and he secretly hoped that his patients were all, somehow, Sherlock in disguise.
"I have a problem." John finally admitted, his face in his hands. "I thought being away from Sherlock would have made me healthier, a better father, brother... Person in general. But I'm starting to think that I made a big mistake."
His sister put a friendly hand on his shoulder, then squeezed lightly.
"I do agree with you, but you need to wait. You can't just go back to Sherlock now, it's too early. He has his battles to fight, you have yours. Then, once you're both healed, you will find your way back to each other. I know."
"it's just that I miss him so freaking much." John said, his eyes already watering and a lump forming in his throat. "I miss waking up to him every morning, falling asleep in his arms... I even miss his quirks. I never thought I'd be this devastated over my own decision. Yet here I am. Jesus, he even tried to take his own life because of me!" John let out a sob.
He hated himself so much for it, and thinking about what could have happened if Sherlock had not been found in time made it unbearable. He never would have forgiven himself had he lost another lover.
"No, stop saying that!" Harriet comforted him. "It's not your fault he did. I'm sure there's something that's deeply dark in him, John. He's not fine, he needs help. But everything will be Ok, I promise! When all this is over, you'll be as happy as ever!"
John could only hope so.
As soon as Sherlock was dropped home, he ran to his and John's bedroom in a full on rage. He didn't care that his head hurt, he just knew that he had to get rid of everything that reminded him of that asshole.
Every framed picture he'd find, he'd throw it on the floor, or out the window. Clothes he'd left behind, he'd throw in some bin or flush down the toilet.
Mrs Hudson watched all of that unfold in front of her, yet she let him do it.
She was told by his therapist that they had to let him take out his anger on objects - so long as he didn't harm himself - as it was therapeutic and tiring.
Also, it would also be a symbolic goodbye between him and who he was trying to leave behind.
Who did John think he was to overwhelm him with emotions - something he had tried to avoid all his life - and then leave him, just to go screw some random guy a month after?
He'd even contemplated dying over him and had literally overdosed to get his attention, for what?
To be monitored 24/7 by his overprotective brother and friends?
He couldn't even have a night out that his brother went bar to bar asking for surveillance tapes.
It all felt like everyone had gone mad, all for that stupid little doctor.
But he was going to show him.
He was going to be the last one to laugh.
And he would have laughed a lot.
About a week later, at noon, John was having lunch with his sister and daughter.
He was feeding Rosie some mashed potatoes, when his phone rang.
He excused himself and went to fetch his phone, which was in the pocket of his coat.
As soon as he saw the name on the screen - Greg Lestrade - his stomach sunk. Scared that something terrible had happened to Sherlock, he accepted the call.
"Hello?" he said, visibly trembling.
"John - Thank God you responded. You might want to check what I've just sent you. I hope you're sitting down." Lestrade said frantically.
The moment John opened the file he'd been sent, his eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped open.