Sherlock found himself still lying on the floor in the living room of his apartment.
He'd just made love to John. Yes, John, and his plan had worked.
It hadn't been too hard to provoke him and, therefore, have him come to him for confrontation.
In order to get rid of Mrs Hudson's constant presence, Sherlock had found a clever solution.
He knew how much she loved smoking weed, so he'd made a pact with her. If she had stayed in her own house for the whole afternoon of that Sunday, he would have given her all the weed he kept in his bedroom.
Happy to receive free stuff, Mrs Hudson was only eager to comply to his wishes.
Other than staying out of sight, she had also promised not to tell Mycroft about their pact. Easy.
Now, Sherlock was still in his post-sex state, so tired but filled with happiness, and could only be more hopeful that John would have fallen in his grasp again soon.
It didn't matter who the doctor dated or slept with, he'd always go back to Sherlock.
And Sherlock knew it very well.
The detective was smiling uncontrollably there, on that floor, and stroking the ground idly.
John had left, awkwardly, without saying a word.
But that didn't matter, he just needed time.
If John had the same effect on Sherlock as crack did, Sherlock, on the other hand, had the effect of alcohol on John.
The more he took 'doses' of him, the more he'd feel drunk, dizzy and, well, ecstatic.
But too much of him was bad.
In the next weeks, Mycroft's overpowering control on Sherlock diminished.
The oldest of the Holmes brothers noticed that Sherlock would still have depressive episodes, but would also not be suicidal anymore.
For this reason, he'd cut down on the constant surveillance, like the drones.
He'd closed an eye on the Piccadilly Circus mischief -that could only mean Sherlock was going back to his old self.
Mrs Hudson was no longer observing the younger Holmes at all times, which gave him a huge sigh of relief.
He had also been granted permission to go back to work, but only if he had a partner to work with - which would usually be Molly or Lestrade.
Also, if he wanted to go out, he had to be with a friend. All of this was just, as Mycroft would put it, for precaution.
So, one night, he went out with Molly at a diner, in a friendly way.
Sherlock knew how powerful that girl's feelings were towards him, but he also knew what a good friend she could be to basically anyone.
Hoping it wouldn't hurt her too much, he told her about his little encounter with John.
"What?" Said Molly, almost choking on her milkshake. "You can't be serious!"
Sherlock responded with a grin, "I am. And it was rough, but amazing." He said with dreamy eyes.
Molly wasn't sure about how to react. Sherlock had seen it in her eyes - she was hopeful that this outing could have taken their relationship to the next level, but even a blind man could tell that she had the same effect on him as a plant would.
"Unbelievable!" She uttered in disbelief. "The little prank was pretty bad, but I didn't think you'd actually done it as bait to ... take your ex to bed!"
"Technically, we did it on the floor." He corrected her. The girl gasped at that. "But yeah, and he fell for it. He's going to crawl back to me at any minute now."
"This is not right! He has a boyfriend now and things look pretty serious. " Molly scoffed. It wasn't hard to be irritated by Sherlock's behaviour.
Sherlock chuckled at that. "Oh, please. He's just using him to distract himself from me. Yet, he still came to me."
Molly shook her head. "Why don't you just try to find someone else? " She suggested with a shaky sigh.
Sherlock looked at her as if she'd said something stupid. "If you're talking about yourself, then no. But anyone else really. I already tried living without him and it doesn't do me good. I mean, let's not repeat what my initial reaction was."
"I'm just saying, the therapist thinks you should go out and explore a bit. Contrary to what you think is best for you, she says you should avoid any sort of contact with John." Said Molly.
Sherlock didn't respond to her immediately, as he was busy checking his phone.
A bit disappointed, he put his phone back down.
"You're expecting a message from him, aren't you? Well, sorry this might be a hard pill to swallow, but he won't!" Said Molly, getting a bit angry. "It's clear he's trying to follow the therapy, unlike you."
"He's just trying to fool himself that this is the best thing to do, but he's finding it hard to resist the urge to come running to me and do dirty things like he did that time."
Like Molly had guessed, John had to use all his strength to follow what he'd imposed himself to do, in order to be coherent.
Whenever Sherlock would try to contact him, he'd ignore the message or go as far as blocking him.
There was no way he would have given in to weakness again.
As for Oliver, he was always with him.
They'd meet every night, didn't matter whose house.
Whenever the veterinarian came to Harry's house, he wouldn't be greeted with much happiness by little Rosie.
Saying that she hated him would be an understatement.
She would even kick his legs, sometimes. The truth was, she missed Sherlock, and no one could replace him in her little heart.
Oliver, however, being the patient man he was, wouldn't mind too much. He'd laugh at the girl's behaviour and blame it on her being young and unable to understand the reason behind changes.
At Oliver's house, however, John wouldn't feel too welcome when it came to some of his pets. His German Shepherd, for example, would always bark at him.
Oliver had blamed it on her being jealous, but that wouldn't stop John from jumping scared at her sight.
Things were going smoothly without Sherlock, although he had to admit that the vet was a bit boring in bed. It didn't even look like he enjoyed himself, sometimes.
He wasn't like any other man, but he was a lot more normal and sane than Sherlock was.
Yet, many times, at night, right before sleep, John would find himself having nostalgic thoughts of Sherlock. Some were also pretty racy, like memories of their little sexcapade.
When solving a case, Sherlock would find himself not paying too much attention to what was happening around him, as his thoughts were only filled with John.
Sometimes he'd just say "John." as an answer to his client's questions.
His therapist would tell him to avoid talking about him, thinking about him or even mentioning him.
That would have been too hard to do, though, as everything he saw reminded him so much of him.
Even the silliest thing was enough to bring back memories.
Contrary to what the therapist had suggested, going back to work and focusing on cases hadn't proved itself to help that much.
The only thing that seemed to keep his mind away from John, temporarily, was playing the violin - much to Mrs Hudson's annoyance, as he'd play it at night, If he felt like it.
It was like his mind would shut off, whenever he'd play.
He had to admit, though, that he was feeling better, as a whole.
Certain that his John would eventually come back to him, his days made a bit more sense. He was smiling again, at least.
Everyone around him linked it on the abstinence from John, but they were wrong.
It was the hope of getting him back that would keep him going.
He would even invite his parents over, sometimes, and he'd reassure them that he was doing a lot better. The elderly pairing couldn't be happier to see their son in that condition.
Despite all these positive things, he'd still feel like people around him were treating him like a baby, especially his mum.
It was like people saw him as some sort of little boy who needed help doing the simplest tasks.
But that didn't bother him too much, though, as long as they didn't observe him while he was taking a dump.
One thing he found annoying about his mother, though, was that she'd constantly try to set him up with a different girl every week.
Mrs Holmes had never truly accepted her son's sexuality, or rather, she didn't understand it.
No matter how hard she'd try, she was unable to see why Sherlock found John so appealing.
She liked John - she'd also been saddened by their break up, but had only thought their relationship made more sense as a platonic one.
One day, while trying to solve a very simple case at his home - a woman had found out her wife had cheated on her, and wanted to know more about the mistress - Sherlock got a weird feeling in his stomach.
The woman he was talking to was blonde, she was short and her bearing was really familiar.
She almost looked like a feminine version of his beloved Watson.
Even her voice sounded like him.
Could it be... no, impossible.
Well, of course, he'd never met John's sister before, but would she be going to ask her brother's ex for help?
His deductions showed that the woman wasn't really interested in talking about her wife's betrayal, rather she had something to say to him.
The way she moved her leg showed she was nervous, and her constant looking out the window proved she was lying about some things.
"Harry." Sherlock said, out of nowhere, as the woman kept rumbling about her wife.
"What?" she asked, blushing.
"Harriet Watson. But everyone calls you Harry." Sherlock stated with a poker face. "You're John's sister. And yes, your wife cheated on you, but that's not why you're here today."
Sherlock hoped the reason she was there would bring good news. His heart started beating faster and his mouth became dry. He was impatient to know what her visit was about.
"This is she." said Harry. "And I came here to tell you that my brother has definitely gone mad!"
She looked pretty shaken and, well, worried.
Sherlock couldn't sit straight in the armchair, for how agitated he was to hear what John had done that could be considered worrisome.
Perhaps, he was inconsolable over him and wouldn't even sleep at night.
He was already going to give up his fake healing?
He wasn't as tough as he looked, then.
"Well, why is it so?" Sherlock asked, curious.
John was on lunch break at his ambulatory, when he saw Oliver walk by him with a rose in his hand.
How embarrassing was that. That rose looked like it had just been bought from a vending machine, but other than that it was being shown to him in public.
That was a surprise he didn't find to be pleasant.
"What... Are you doing at my working place?" John asked.
Oliver gave him the brightest smile.
"I came here to surprise my love." he said. He proceeded to join his love at the table he was sitting at. "I know how stressed you are with patients, so I thought my presence could only make you feel a bit more special."
Oh, Oliver and his mushy words. John found it hard not to throw up every time he heard them.
But he faked a smile, nonetheless.
"Oh, how nice." he said, while taking the rose from Oliver's hand.
Unsure of what to do with it, he awkwardly smelled it. "Thanks."
"But that's not all." Oliver said excitedly.
John looked at him in confusion. What could possibly make the surprise better? He needed to be enlightened.
"Look inside the petals." Oliver suggested, with a smile that took over his whole face.
John did as he was told and instinctively threw the rose as far from himself as possible.
Inside the rose's petals was an engagement ring.
"What... Are you crazy?" he asked, almost scared.
They had only been a couple for like two months. He felt like it was a bit too rushed.
"Crazy about you!" Now, that line was downright cheesy.
"So, will you marry me?" Oliver asked, hopeful.
John opened his mouth to speak, but stopped before he did.
He looked around and saw that a girl was holding a phone in her hands and was filming the scene.
Plus, all the people in the room were staring at them.
What could he say? Had he said no, he would have ruined the whole thing.
But he didn't want to say yes, as he wasn't in love with Oliver, not at all.
He could still say yes, then run away from Oliver and, therefore, never go through with a wedding.
Pushed by the pressure of being observed, John said the word.
"Yes." he said with a hint of hesitation in his voice.
Sherlock laughed in Harriet Watson's face. She'd just told him her brother had agreed to marry the veterinarian with the long neck.
"Oh, that's a nice one, Harry! I see why John loves you so much! You make the funniest jokes." Sherlock said in between laughing hysterics.
"I wish I were joking, Mr Holmes!" Harriet said, a bit upset. "But he said yes! He's getting married! He's gone out of his mind! I mean, he's constantly talking about you, but then says yes to marriage with that guy? I need your help with this!"
All of a sudden, Sherlock didn't want to laugh anymore.
"You mean to tell me that you're serious?" he asked, his palms sweaty.
"Yes. Look," the woman took her phone from her handbag and then showed it to him. "There's a video proving it."
Sherlock watched, in a mixture of shock and devastation, as the man he still loved, and that had made love to him only weeks before, accepted a marriage proposal from the ugly vet.
"Excuse me." he said after the video was over. He ran as fast as he could, his hand covering his mouth, and when he reached the bathroom, he puked all over the toilet.
Harriet stood there, sitting on the sofa, as she heard her brother's ex vomit his whole stomach out.