Always At The Best Time

Sherlock has a meltdown after a long chase and John is there to witness it.

TW: Autistic Meltdown

Hi guys. I hope you enjoy the story. Please give as much feedback as you feel comfortable giving. This story is based on my own experiences with autism. I am planning on continuing this story as long as the reviewers want more.

-M

It was an exhausting and laborious day for everyone involved. Sherlock Holmes not being the exception. John and Sherlock staggered to the closest tube station to get back to Baker Street after a lengthy chase. Sherlock would say it was one of the more straightforward cases. Solving it was, but not tracking down the murderer, that took a toll.

Sherlock had been quiet the entire way back from the chase. Mycroft had instructed Watson that Sherlock could get quiet as part of a sensory overload or in rare cases a total meltdown. So, John just thought that Sherlock was tired. As John and Sherlock stroll down an alley, Sherlock just stops. His breathing became sharp and shallow. He looked around quickly, as if something had been stalking him. He put his back against the wall, sliding down. Furthermore, he grabbed his knees and started rocking himself side to side while muttering something underneath his breath.

John realized that something was wrong. He stopped and turned around. The second he saw Sherlock, he kneeled next to him. " Hey, what's wrong." At the sound of John's voice, he covered his ears. John then whispered, "I am sorry, what's wrong." Sherlock didn't communicate. John then deduced that this was the meltdowns that Mycroft was talking about. He then thought about calling Mycroft but told himself that if this got worse he would. John then went back to tending to Sherlock. He attempted to check Sherlock's pulse, but as soon as he touched him, he squirmed and pulled his arm back to his chest. John apologized again.

John whispered once more, "I need you to tell me what's wrong, or else I'm going to have to call Mycroft." Sherlock stopped whimpering to show that he understood, but could form the words to talk to John. John sighed, "You give me no choice, Sherlock." He pulled out his phone and dialed Mycroft.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes is unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message?" John sighed, "Can you tell him it's important? It's about his brother." The lady realize that Mycroft would want to know and said, "One moment, please." John was placed on hold. Then quickly heard the voice of Mycroft, "Yes, John. What has my brother done this time?" John replied by saying, "Um, I think that Sherlock is having one of those meltdowns you advised me about." John could feel Mycroft's skepticism. " Really? He hasn't had one of those in years. Can you tell me his symptoms?" "Of course. He isn't letting me touch him. He is really sensitive to sound right now, and he is rocking back and forth while plugging his ears. Not only that, but he isn't talking" Mycroft sighed. "Unfortunately, you are correct, he is indeed having a meltdown. It is part of his Asperger's Syndrome. Stay right there, I'm tracking your location. Do not try to intervene in any way. E.T.A. 3 minutes" Then he hung up.

John put his phone in his pocket and looked at Sherlock. He looked back at Sherlock. He was still pulling at his hair. Every time a car would go by, he would whimper at the noise. Eventually, Mycroft arrived, 3 minutes on the dot. He walked over and crouched down and looked at Sherlock. He put his mouth near his ear, whispering an inaudible sentence. Sherlock finally looked up but didn't say anything. Mycroft then said, "Do you want to go back to Baker Street?" Sherlock took his hands off his ears and used sign language. John couldn't understand, but Mycroft could. Back when they were little, Sherlock's meltdowns were more frequent. Sign language became the only way to communicate. John whispered, "What did he say?" Mycroft replied, "He said, 'Fine.'"

Mycroft then took an orange pill bottle out of his pocket, took one pill out, and put it into Sherlock's open palm. Sherlock took it and swallowed it dry. John then asked, "What drug is that?" Mycroft got to his feet and whispered, "Lisdexamfetamine, it's the strongest pill out there for Asperger's." Sherlock tried to get up to his feet as well, but failed. He almost fell, but thanks to Mycroft, he didn't. Sherlock made another attempt. This time with his brother's help. He got up to his feet. Sherlock started walking slowly to Mycroft's car. Every step he took there was a 50-50 chance his legs would fail. Eventually, they reached the car. John drove while the brothers sat in the back together. Every time a car would honk, Sherlock squirmed and whimpered. It was even worse when an ambulance with sirens passed them. Sherlock kicked his legs while trying to open the door to get out. Mycroft had to hold him back, though the touch wasn't pleasant to him either. Mycroft let his little brother go when he calmed down.

After 20 minutes, which to Sherlock felt like forever, they were at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock still walking wobbly, used Mycroft's help to climb up the stairs to 221b. Sherlock didn't even have the energy left to reach his bedroom and fell asleep on the couch. John went to grab Sherlock's 25 pounds (11.34 kg) weighted blanket. John always thought such a thin and pale man would get crushed by the blanket. Alas, it's Sherlock's favorite. After they were sure Sherlock was okay, John got situated into his chair and Mycroft into his brother's. Questions were flying through John's head. After a few moments of silence, Mycroft shifted in his chair and said, "Go, ask all of your questions."

Thank you so much for reading! Like I said at the top, I will continue as long as you guys want me to. Happy weekend!

-M