One month later…

John twisted and turned under the covers. The nightmares had returned again. They were the usual war flashbacks, except now they also included Sherlock.

Sherlock…

Ever since John and Mary's wedding, Sherlock had gone missing. No one knew why, except John.

He had lost his best friend to God knows where because of his own foolishness. It had been his fault for confronting Sherlock. It had been his fault for kissing him.

The guilt consumed him, making it difficult for being a supportive husband for his pregnant wife. Sure, he still loved her, but not as deeply as he did before. She just…she just wasn't Sherlock.

A pounding on the door woke John with a start.

The game is on."

XXX

Sherlock lay on the crummy, dirt-stained mattress. His vision swirled before his eyes as the drug's effect slowly wear off. He was extremely tired, but he could still register his surroundings. It was a typical opium den: it was filled with lounging bodies of young users, all in a state of nothing.

Sherlock turned over, his back to the rest of the room, his mind dying to rest for a few seconds. The whole month that he had been alone had been a difficult one.

He had first been rejected by his love of his life, now he had to take down a man whose intellect and malevolence equalled Moriarty's, maybe even more. His name is Charles Augustus Magnussen. While Moriarty was forthright, Magnussen was sneaky. This forced Sherlock to do things that hurt him just as much.

Sherlock turned over on the bed. Believe it or not, Sherlock wasn't there on a pleasure trip. This was for the case and he couldn't screw it up. He had to convince Magnussen that opium was his "pressure point". It was the only way that John could stay safe. If Magnussen knew he would ruin both their lives.

Just as he was about to fall asleep again, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Isaac?" A voice called. "Isaac Whitney? Isaac?"

The footsteps came closer to him then stopped. The voice was speaking to the man next to him. Sherlock recognised that voice from anywhere, but he daren't take a chance to look around.

"Dr Watson," The young man next to him said weakly, "where am I?"

"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me." John said as he checked the boy's eyes.

"Have you come for me?"

"D'you think I know a lot of people here?"

Sherlock waited for this moment. He knew that John always opened a doorway in which he could make a dramatic entrance.

He turned around to face John. Sherlock's heart pounded against his chest. This is the first time he has seen his friend since the wedding. Since the night where he was left with a broken heart that no amount of drugs could fill.

"Oh, hello John!" Sherlock tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I didn't expect to see you here. Come for me too?"

XXX

John was pissed. So very, very pissed.

There his friend lay, high as a kite, acting like everything is a bowl of roses and kittens. It was such a Sherlock thing to do pitching up at the worst times.

"Christ Sherlock!"

"It isn't what you think…"

"What the Hell am I supposed to think. My friend, who I haven't seen in about a month, is lying in an opium den and is totally drugged up. Of course I am going to think that you have taken again. "

"I am on a case, John!" Sherlock got up and staggered towards the door.

John ungracefully pulled Isaac up and dragged him along. He was so furious with Sherlock. Just like Sherlock, not giving a fuck who he hurt as long as he got to the end in one piece.

"Isaac, go and wait with Mrs Watson in the car." He let go of the kid and waited as he clumsily jogged to the outside. John turned to his friend, who was trying to open up a busted-up old door. Sherlock was muttering to himself.

"Why, why, why, WHY, do I always find you like this?!"

Sherlock ignored John. "This door is jammed."

John let out an exasperated sigh. Typical Sherlock. Avoiding the damn topic.

"Sherlock." John warned, crossing his arms. "What is this really about?"

Sherlock knew that this topic would pop up in this conversation. Thus was another reason why he didn't want the doctor to find out now. He knew that John would blame this…situation…on that night a month ago.

Sherlock would not lie. There were many times before Lady Smallwood came when Sherlock was about to cave into the craving, but he always stopped himself by playing on his violin. He would consistently get complaints from Mrs Hudson about playing to the early morning. Sherlock suspected that she knew what happened. She was very observant and would have no shame in throwing her opinion about them into conversations.

This is why Mrs Hudson was the best hous…landlady…ever.

He also knew that this was not the time or place for this conversation. He pushed through the door by using his full weight.

"For God's sake, John! I'm on a case!"

"A month! That is all it took! One!" He couldn't believe that Sherlock was desperate enough to use a case as an excuse for using again. Was he trying to hide the real reason that he was drugged up?

"Working!" Sherlock jumped down on to a dumpster. John was refusing to let this go. He knew that the way they left things was not the best, but he was still John's friend and he had to get him to Molly… Immediately!

"Sherlock Holmes, in a drug den! How's that going to look?!" John fought back.

"I am undercover!" The car pulled up by them.

"No you're not!"

"Well I am not NOW!" Sherlock shouted back.

Mary rolled down the window. "In! Both of you! Quickly!"

A few seconds later the boy whose arm John sprained begged to be taken with as he was absolutely convinced that John broken it.

"No, go away." Mary said.

John sighed. He might as well as taken him along as well. No one should be left alone in a house of drugs.

"No. Let him." He poked his head out of the window, "Just get in." Then added. "It is a sprain!"

"So we are taking everyone home!" Mary said.

"Hey Shezza." The boy said to Sherlock.

John, for the first time, looked amused at his friend.

"Shezza?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I was on a case."

"Shezza." Mary looked in the rear-view mirror. 'Seriously though."

John picked up his phone and dialled the number. "We are not going home; we are going to Bart's. I am calling Molly." He placed the phone to his ear.

"Why?"

John turned to face his friend with a look that said we are going to talk about this later.

"Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar."

Hey my bokkies

The next few chapters are based on the episode "His Last Vow", except I am going to make much needed alterations. (Not that the episode needs it...you know what I mean!)

So yip.

Love from thecapefangirl