The Reason I Don't Care
Chapter 8
"Sherlock", John said.
"Hmm?", I said from the client couch.
"Mycroft called", he said.
"And what did he want?", I said thinking about the adrenaline.
"He said he has something for you", he said with a curious tone and looked his watch.
"Where does he want me to go to pick whatever it is up?", I asked.
"Your Parents' house", he said drinking a sip of tea.
"I'm not going", I said as I picked my mobile up to phone Mycroft.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Mycroft answered.
"You're coming", he said firmly.
"I am most certainly not", I said sternly.
John was watching me carefully while sipping his tea, trying to hear what Mycroft was saying. I rolled my eyes.
"Sherlock, I can order you to come", Mycroft said.
"No, you really can't Mycroft", I snarled.
"Sherlock, you need to come. We can help you".
"I am not going to rehab!", I screamed into the phone, hung up and then tossed it across the room.
It landed by the mantle.
John just stared at me for a few moments. His cup was raised halfway to his mouth, his mouth was open like he was frozen in time right before he was about to drink a sip of tea.
That is when he said, "Rehab?"
"Forget it", I said as I walked over the coffee table and towards my room.
John just caught up with me when I entered my room.
"Sherlock, why does Mycroft want you in rehab?", he asked.
"I said 'forget it' John!", I yelled.
John took his mobile out of his pocket and dialed Mycroft's number. It wasn't long before Mycroft answered.
"Why does Sherlock need rehab?", he asked.
Mycroft was obviously telling john that my drug addiction was becoming a problem and it was affecting more than just me.
John said thank you to Mycroft then hung up.
"Sherlock what happened last night when you were high?", he asked sadly but sternly.
"Nothing. Mycroft has just become very irritated with my drug addiction."
"Sherlock", he said trying to pressure me.
I jumped on to my bed and covered my head with a pillow.
"Go away John", I said.
I heard him sigh and walk out of the room shutting the door quietly behind him.
Oh God, I thought to myself, I need to get out of here. I need to relax. To calm my mind…Oh God, no. No! No!
"I am not doing this again. No. Sherlock get your head on straight. You are better than this, not much better, but still, better than this. Sherlock don't do it", I said quietly to myself.
I got out of bed after a few more minutes of trying to convince myself not to leave my bed.
I left my room in search of John. He was in the kitchen making something for dinner.
"I'm going out", I said.
NO!, my mind screamed.
"Fine, but I'm calling Mycroft", John said.
"Fine", I said.
"Fine", He said.
"Fine", I said.
"Fine", he said and turned away.
No. Don't you dare walk out that door.
John had just picked up his mobile phone as I left.
I walked down the two flights of stairs and walked out the door of 221B.
God, why did John have to be so curious? He was never this curious before I was gone for two year. I mean seriously. Why the hell was he so curious?
I walked down Baker Street and signaled a cab when I was a mile and a half away. I had one thing on mind and I hated it.
Alcohol…