Harry tried to prevent Sherlock from breaking his whole house down, as he was being taken over by fury and utter desperation, by physically holding him back.
She'd never seen a person act like that in all her life before.
He was absolutely wretched. He was screaming loudly, rolling himself on the floor and destroying everything he touched.
That can't be true, Sherlock thought. Worse than being abandoned by John, worse than finding out he had a boyfriend was that he was getting bloody married.
So, when he had fucked Sherlock that Sunday afternoon, he'd just used his body to get himself off and Sherlock had fallen for his own trick, had been fooled by his own certainties.
But John was going to get married, something that would be too hard to get out of right away, and a very big decision.
In just a matter of minutes, Sherlock's progress shattered right before his eyes and his newly found good mood left him completely.
There was no way he was ever going to get John back, now, not when he was going to get a husband.
Sherlock didn't want to be his little side bitch for the rest of his life.
He had a dignity, and even that came before John.
What a disgusting lad, John was.
"Sherlock... Please." said Harry, once she'd been able to get the man to sit down. "Don't act irrationally like my brother is doing. He wants to marry a guy he met two months ago, just because he can't say no. But he's out of his mind! He can't be seriously thinking about it, he needs you to get him back to normal. He won't listen to me. "
Sherlock gave out a frustrated laugh.
"He can marry that ugly version of me, if he wants to. Who am I to stop him, uh? I'm not going to do that, not anymore. He's changed, Harry. I don't know if you've noticed, but he seems to care more about his own feelings that other people's. Oh, and he's become a liar. Did he happen to tell you that he cheated on Oliver with yours truly?" he said.
"I knew it." Said Harry, more to herself than to Sherlock. "That's absolutely not a surprise."
"Yeah and I thought the reason behind that - he initiated sex with me - was that he would always go back to me, no matter who his lover was.
But since he's getting married, he's pretty serious. And I don't intend on becoming his sex doll or something. So no, I'm not going to help you get him come to his senses. " Sherlock said, then he burst into a psychopathic laugh, which made Harry move away from him spontaneously.
"Look... Um, Sherlock, I understand this piece of information can cause you shock, but John doesn't really want to get involved with this Oliver, as he's still in lo-" Harry tried to say, but she was interrupted by Sherlock, who jumped out of the sofa and hushed her by placing a hand on her mouth.
"Shut it, Harriet. I don't want to hear this sappy statement. He wants to marry him? Then he should do just that. Now, leave me alone before I do something I'm going to regret. It's for your own safety." said Sherlock.
He was looking terrifying, to say the least. His eyes were open wide, and his mouth was almost foaming. He looked like he was about to go insane.
A bit scathed, Harry Watson left without saying no more.
As soon as Sherlock heard the woman close the door, he threw himself on the sofa and started convulsing with laughter.
Soon, his laughing fit turned into a violent, uncontrollable crying episode.
Never had he cried like that before, not even when Redbeard had died. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was screaming as loud as he could, when the spasms weren't too strong for it to happen.
Nothing made sense anymore. John would always find a way to ruin his life, more and more every time he tried.
All of the things he'd said about them being healthier without each other sounded to him more like a stupid excuse to hide something more, perhaps the mere fear of being seen with someone as cuckoo as Sherlock was.
John Watson was a different kind of coward. He'd had the courage to go to war, but still was scared shitless of staying with the person he loved because it was Sherlock Holmes. Such an incoherent bunch of bones.
Sherlock cried himself to sleep that night, after weeping for hours and hours. He had not eaten or drunk, for the only thing that seemed to soothe his mind was sleep.
This time, no one could have saved him from himself.
Not that he wanted to kill himself, but he didn't want to be alive either.
Maybe starving himself and avoiding to take care of basic aspects of his life would have eventually led him to an inevitable demise.
This time, it wouldn't have just been a lie to get John's attention - his first attempt had been lame as can be - he almost wanted to die, for real, to make him feel guilty, as a way to get back at him for throwing him into this endless spiral of heartaches, in summary.
In the days that followed, Sherlock ghosted everyone.
No one knew what was up with him, so it wasn't unusual for the people around him to become filled with worry.
In some way, he had blocked the door that led to his flat, so it was impossible for Mrs Hudson to go check on him.
Nothing. He'd miss his appointments with the therapist, wouldn't show up to work...
The situation was becoming too heavy for his loved ones, so much that they had to take drastic measures in order to save him.
After two weeks of Sherlock's silence, Mrs Hudson, in utter desperation , called the police and begged them to break Sherlock's door down, thinking it the only way to be able to have contact with him.
Once police were able to break into the flat, the sight that presented itself to them was not pretty.
Food was sprawled all over the floor, therefore giving the rooms a rancid smell, and the rest of the house was a mess.
There were mice all over the kitchen, alongside roaches, and the rubbish had not been thrown out for at least ten days, by the looks of it.
The smell was so bad, that it almost made one of the police women throw up.
Police, accompanied by Mrs Hudson, searched through the whole house, but he was nowhere to be found.
What they noticed, however, was that a window was open, so that the worst was assumed. What if Sherlock had been abducted?
A missing person's report was issued.
Mycroft organised a search of his own with his drones and helicopters, but still no signs of the younger Holmes.
While his friends got crazy over him, Sherlock was wasting his life away with endless partying and sex.
He'd go to night clubs, where he'd find a different hookup every night.
It was always a man between thirty and forty years of age, but it didn't really matter who he was.
He'd engage in sexual activity wherever it was possible.
Sometimes he'd go back to their places, otherwise even doing it in a dark alley would be fine.
It was usually a quickie, Sherlock being pinned against a wall, with just his trousers and boxers down, and the other man taking advantage of his body from behind.
He didn't even know those men's names, but he didn't care, for it was the only thing that would make him feel alive.
After all, sex was sex and there was no need for John, in order to get laid.
That's where Sherlock was wrong, because, whenever he had sex with one of those men, he'd pretend they were John.
It was the only way he could get off in those encounters.
When he was reported missing, it was the morning after a threesome and Sherlock had fallen asleep in the bed of one of the two men he'd slept with, out of utter exhaustion.
He was still sleeping when his friends began looking for him, so he had no idea that police was actually looking for him.
When he woke up, he noticed that the two guys he'd slept with - who he learnt were called Gabriel and Kevin - were acting a bit... Weird.
For instance, they'd been awake for a while and were having a very quiet conversation, eyeing him from time to time, which was something that Sherlock struggled to understand.
He, of course, deduced that the discussion had to be about him, but he had no idea what they were talking about.
Perhaps, there was a chance that they knew who he was. After all, he was pretty well known among Londoners.
Gabriel noticed that Sherlock was awake only a few minutes after. He cleared his throat to let Kevin know he had to stop speaking.
Sherlock just said "Good Morning", then awkwardly started fishing his clothes from the floor and putting them on slowly. Out of all the one night stands he'd had, that was, by far, the most embarrassing, as he'd never slept over.
"You're Sherlock Holmes." Gabriel's voice broke the awkward silence that had fallen in the room.
So, Sherlock was famous around them.
"That I am. And you're Gabriel O'Rourke, aged 31, while your companion is your friend Kevin Geert, two years your senior. Now that we've introduced ourselves, I think it's time we part ways." said the detective in his sleepy voice. He wanted to flee the scene as soon as possible, so he tried to get out of the bed, but Gabriel prevented him from doing so by grabbing his arm.
That gave Sherlock a small jolt of fear.
" You're the lad that was reported missing two hours ago. I got notified of that on twitter." said Gabriel. "You're not going anywhere."
Missing? Confusion took over Sherlock as he tried to set himself free from the other man's grasp.
"What do you mean I was reported missing?" he asked, curious, although he had a slight idea about why that had happened.
"Yeah, you were last seen weeks ago at your house, but then when police came to your house, there was no trace of you." said Kevin.
Oh, made sense now. That had been Mycroft's doing, there was no doubt about that. Oh, Mycroft Holmes and his overprotectiveness. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"I was seriously gone for one night and my brother already did all that? I suppose you're not going to let me escape until you get the reward?" Sherlock asked, quite annoyed.
The two men didn't have the time to create a response, that police sirens could already be heard from outside Gabriel's flat.
After Gabriel and Kevin were promised a reward for finding Sherlock, the eldest Holmes grabbed his brother and took him into one of his helicopter, to give him a private telling off.
Sherlock had not tried to run away upon being found by his brother and police, for he knew that it would have made matters worse.
Upon seeing him, Mycroft's reaction had been very similar to the one a person would have when presented with a decaying corpse; for Sherlock's face was so white and not cared for, he looked like he was dead - and he looked perilously skinny.
"What on Earth has gotten into you?" said Mycroft, once the two brothers were alone in the helicopter.
Mycroft was furious.
Other than that, his eyes showed he was extremely preoccupied.
"You look like you haven't eaten for weeks! And what were you doing in a stranger's bed? Do you know how much you risked your life like that? One of your two... friends... Told me he'd seen you hanging about a club for two weeks straight, meaning you probably screwed around like crazy, risking to catch innumerable STDs. Jesus, Sherlock, is your desire of death so high?" Mycroft reprimanded. He rubbed his face in frustration.
Sherlock didn't know where to look, so he opted for out the window.
"I don't care about anything anymore. Nothing makes any sense, Mycroft, not now that John is getting married. I can die, for all I care. There's nothing in my life right now that makes it worth living." said Sherlock in a faux calmness.
It wouldn't have been a shock if the sound of utter frustration Mycroft made after that comment could be heard from the ground, for how loud it was.
"Again, all of this is for John. You need to move on, Sherlock! Your life means something to a lot of people, including me - we already had this conversation when you were in a hospital bed- and you need to be detoxified from this obsession you have for John." said Mycroft.
Sherlock didn't respond to that, as he was too numb to do so.
He wondered what it felt like to be John's new fiancé, how lucky that man must have felt when he'd said yes to his marriage proposal. Was he going to treat John like a jewel or would he have taken him for granted?
It was like his brother's words didn't matter to him. Blah blah blah, you need to be free from this fixation with John, blah blah blah.
"Sherlock. I'm sorry if I've been too protective and I made you feel like I put you in prison, but this is for your own sake. You're too unstable to be treated like a normal, sane human being. So, in light of your recent behaviour - attempted suicide, sleeping on dumpsters and now this - you leave me no choice: you will spend a month in rehab, away from all of us. I promise you, this is the best way to deal with your demons."
Upon hearing these words Sherlock realised that, maybe, his brother was right, this time.