Sorry for the long wait. My beta is really busy with school at the moment so it takes a little while but rest assured this WILL be finished :)

John hadn't been aware that this was a possibility and that it would actually happen, even if he had known about it. Still here he was in the middle of a sidewalk near St. Barts with Sherlock crossing his way.

If he hadn't known any better he would have believed that this would be the Sherlock from his dimension.

"Sherlock?!" John moved towards the taller man, who only seemed to notice him now, with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"Sherlock!" he hissed through his teeth again. "What are you doing out of the flat, high?!" he pressed, trying to keep his voice low and not stare at Sherlock too much (which was hard). Other people wouldn't be able to see Sherlock and he would look crazy talking with thin air.

Sherlock just stared right at John, obviously not caring what others thought about him. Slowly a little pleased smile formed on his lips. "Why, John, to meet you here! Walk with me?" he just asked and started to walk again. The detective seemed to have a destination in mind.

Irritated, yet deep down pleased and happy to see Sherlock again, he followed the other, looking stiffly ahead. "Where are we going? No, I mean what are you doing? You should rest. Are you on a case? No, this doesn't look like cocaine. You would be all over the place." John huffed out displeased about the fact that Sherlock was high. Again.

Meanwhile Sherlock was very charmed with the fact that John even remembered his drug habits. How many people could claim to do that?

Something like a warm feeling spread in his chest but he wrote it off due to the drug.

John felt ignored by the thoughtful look Sherlock got on his face while walking and his first instinct would have been to softly grab the sleeve of Sherlocks coat to get his attention. The only thing stopping him was that it just wouldn't work and so he refrained, falling back to just saying his name.

"Sherlock.."
"Yes John I heard you. I have a case. An old…acquaintance contacted me for help and I'm on my way there. You might as well tag along." Sherlock drawled out, looking at John from the corner of his eye. He saw John frown and immediately added "You don't have to, if you don't want to of course."

The detectives gaze wandered ahead again. He didn't want to face the rejection.

John on the other hand felt honoured to tag along but still frowned. "I..I would really like to but you surely can remember that I can't see your people and you can't see mine. I would look out of place there, maybe even threatening if I keep talking to myself."

Suddenly he got an idea and fumbled in his pockets, searching for something. It drew Sherlocks attention back to him. "What are you doing now?"

Sherlock slowed down a little when he saw that John had taken his phone out and pressed it to his ear as if he would call someone. "You forgot to dial," Sherlock dryly provided, regaining his previous speed. Why would John start talking to someone else now when he was there? He didn't like that.

All the while John grinned self-appreciative to himself. "Now I can talk with you and just look as if I'm on the phone."

Still proud of his brilliant idea he looked at Sherlock, surely the other would take out his phone any second now too. So they both won't look dumb and-
"You look stupid, to me," Sherlock added while he looked at John. The idea wasn't really bad but the detective was someone who generally didn't care what people thought about him, especially with a drug in his systems. He sometimes ran around with a skull for heavens sake. John shouldn't feel so self-conscious.

The grin on Johns face fell into an annoyed look. "Yeah well," he licked his lips while contemplating a comeback and promptly found one. "You aren't as funny as you think, so there."

The taller man could only blink for a minute, actually fearing that he had taken too much morphine because surely that didn't make any sense to him right now. "…What?" he asked genuinely confused.

John sighed exasperated. "Meeting your brother wasn't nearly as fun as I thought. He really didn't appreciate that I used your name on my blog. William."

Silence followed that statement while Sherlock ceased to walk and stood still. After a few seconds of not talking a slow and deep chuckle came from Sherlock, he seemed honestly amused by all this.

"Oh. Did Mycroft kidnap you? I really wanted to know if he would get it," Sherlock asked amused and waited eagerly for an answer. Mycroft was predictable, even if he was another version in a different world.

"Yes. He kidnapped me hours after I posted it. He didn't find it very funny Sherlock, really not. He started to ask questions how I came to know your name because he was certain that, and I quote, 'Sherlock didn't have friends'.Can you believe that?" John huffed out, looking annoyed ahead.

Sherlock needed to know how it went on, he wanted to move closer to John and grab his shoulders to tell him to go on. Please go on.

"And? What did you say?!"
John started to grin secretly at Sherlock and mirth twinkled in his eyes. "I laughed at him. He didn't appreciate that either," John replied dryly with his grin, also amused by this since Sherlock really seemed to find that funny.

Sherlock let out a startling laugh before he honestly laughed to himself, picturing his brother. Mycroft must have been ready to do something rash if he was right about John. The doctor seemed to bloom in the face of danger.

"He…," and Sherlock actually had to gather himself before he could talk again (he probably would've laughed a bit less if he hadn't had drugs in his system), "He will have a closer eye on you now. Every post on your blog will be judged I believe."

Johns grin didn't falter but he looked a bit more sternly at Sherlock. "Yes, but for now I only have one case of yours anyway. And for the record: It really wasn't funny," he pressed again.

"Oh, but it was John, you loved it." Sherlock drawled in a deep voice that made Johns back shiver.

Both stared at each other.

John cleared his throat before it got any more intense than it already was. "We..we should probably get going since you have an appointment." He started to move and walk by Sherlock (even if he didn't know where they were going) but Sherlock made a grab for his hand. Nothing hasty, just a slow soft move to grab Johns hand.

Of course it moved right through it and John stopped again, both starring at their hands. Confused John looked up again.

Sherlock just shrugged with his shoulders, his curls bouncing slightly. "I just wanted to see if it's still the same," and started to walk ahead again. "Come now, I have an appointment."

John hold out his hand in front of him before shaking it a few times, placing his phone in it (the other was getting tired) and followed after the detective. Catching up with the detective he risked a side glance at him. "So, where are we going exactly? I can wait at the front if you want. Or…something."

"My acquaintance works for a financial institution and wants me to look at something." Sherlock scoffed into his scarf as if it was tedious to recall all that. "I know him from university," he explained some more for John who blinked at him.

"You keep saying acquaintance. He suddenly remembered you? Just like that?"
"Of course he did. Back then everyone knew of my observation skills and asked me to use them on 'cases'."

John scrunched his eyebrows together in a mild frown and didn't say anything. When nothing came from his side Sherlock looked over at him and blinked confused. "What?"

"Nothing, it's…no nothing." John shook his head slightly and marched on besides Sherlock. He stayed slightly behind the detective since he didn't know where the building was they were heading to. From time to time John would see a pedestrian walking towards him and then right through Sherlock.

It was strange and confusing to see this, especially since Sherlock didn't react to it at all. He wondered if Sherlock saw those people as some kind of wobbly shade like he had seen DI Lestrade.

Since Sherlock had let his comment drop (for some strange reason) John felt compelled to press another matter. One Sherlock had successfully evaded thanks to distracting him.

"Why did you take drugs again? While on a case no less. I already…deduced that it isn't cocaine;" he frowned again but this time directly at Sherlock. The other just smirked slightly and glanced at John while crossing a street.

John didn't get an answer immediately because he had to stay behind and wait for a car to pass before he could catch up again. "So?"
"So what? What do you want me to say John? That I took them before I had the case? That I took them for personal reasons while on the case? Please, feel free to choose one of these options," Sherlock drawled, clearly not bothered by Johns insistence (John chalked it up to the drugs).

"I want to hear the truth. If something is going on you can tell me. Okay? I mean, sure the whole…drugs and alcohol thing works against us but while we're here you can actually talk to me. I'll listen Sherlock." John sounded genuine and tried to get his point into the thick skull of the detective.

Sherlock actually stopped and turned to John, looking directly at him.

Of course John reciprocated the look (Sherlocks pupils where blown wide) and waited for an answer or the problem itself. He only got "Okay," instead. He was confused.

"Okay?"
"We're here. You can wait here or sit down on one of these benches over there." Sherlock made a flabby hand gesture away from the building that towered above them while he turned away.

Since John couldn't grab his arm (he really wanted to now) he let himself be left behind, watching after the detective until he couldn't see him anymore.

Resigned he turned away, put his phone into his pocket and walked over to 'one of these benches over there' and sat down, facing the building. He didn't even know how long that appointment was supposed to last but he would wait it out. John was just thankful that he didn't have a late shift today at St. Barts. Knowing that Sherlock roamed the city while he was high and meeting him meant that he couldn't possibly leave him now.

He just wondered how far he would go for the detective. It wasn't even possible to grab his goddamn hand.

"Damn," John mumbled to himself, moving his hand through his hair.

Sitting there for a few minutes and tapping his fingers against his knee he stood up. "I might as well get a coffee while I wait." John looked around for a suitable shop and quickly found one.

After 26 minutes had passed John still sat there on the bench and his coffee was almost gone. He started to feel boredom creeping up on him while he still felt nervous that Sherlock was in there alone for so long.

Which was completely unjustified since Sherlock was always alone somewhere else except for the few instances they met and that had always been in their flat.

At least he had a little distraction at hand: the shadowy form of other people. While he still saw the people of his world walking around, he also saw a fog like shadow from time to time. Not always and probably nowhere near to the amount of people who actually walked across his field of view. They were still enough to hold his attention for the time they were there. The only times his eyes turned away from them before they left was when the door of the building opened. John always expected to see Sherlock (that became exhausting after the first five times) but it never was him and so he went back to watching the shades.

Emptying his coffee he stood up and threw the cup away. Yielding to his fate to wait out there a while longer he stretched his entire body before sitting down on the bench again.

"That was actually interesting in there." came a deep, familiar voice beside him and John almost jumped up and made a noise. He didn't. He clamped the feeling down and looked to his side where Sherlock was sitting as if he had been doing that the whole time.

"I should probably already feel used to that. You could have announced you're back, you know?" John huffed out and relaxed again after the sudden fright.

Sherlock just grinned at John and shook his head. "Wouldn't be as funny as seeing your reaction every time." Both stared at each other after that and kept silent.

Sherlock looked the same as before. Noting no difference whatsoever after looking Sherlock over (most definitely not checking him out) he became curious. "So? Tell me. What did he want from you?"

Sherlock looked ahead and up the tall building while he talked. "Seb wanted me to look at a security problem. Apparently someone had broken in and left a message. Nothing has been taken." Sherlock took out his phone and brought up a photo that showed a strange symbol. He slightly leaned over to show it to John.

"That's the message left behind. Do you know what it means?"

John studied the symbol. It wasn't very big or detailed, just a few strokes, before he shook his head. "Sorry no, what does it mean?"
"I have no idea so far but the culprit climbed up the building to enter it. So not really a security issue per sé." The doctor looked at Sherlock as if he had a second head.

"Climbed? What?" Immediately looking up the building John thought about climbing up there and shook his head. "You can't be serious?"

Sherlock just put his phone away again. "Oh, but I am. They climbed up there of that I am certain. Everything else I still need to look into," he mused at himself towards the end, probably already trying to solve the puzzle while a certain weariness worked itself into his voice.

John sat awkwardly beside him, trying to be quiet while another question popped up in his head. "You know," he started to gain Sherlocks attention. It actually took a few seconds before he received it and he could go on. "What you actually should do is go home and lie down until the drug has passed through your system. Did the reason for taking them even justify?"

The heavy silence continued and it seemed that nothing would come from Sherlock who just stared ahead at the building again, his hands clasp together on his legs. John mimicked the pose and decided to wait this one out. Either Sherlock would answer him or he would change the subject. Something would give in eventually.

From the corner of his eye John could see Sherlock opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to start talking but refrained from doing so. This went on for at least a minute before the detective cleared his throat and talked with a raspy voice, oddly calm (he had been calm before but now it seemed strange).

"Would you…walk me home John? I don't believe you have any plans I would ruin." he asked. The remark hadn't been necessary since John really didn't have any plans and even if he had, he would have cancelled them immediately. "Of course Sherlock, let's head back alright. I just fear we will have to walk or try to catch the same tube." Which frankly just sounded insane.

Would the tubes be one thing in both of their worlds or would they drive separately. Just because of this he didn't even suggest a cab. God knows what would come from that. That just made his head hurt and the simplest resolution was walking, even if he didn't want Sherlock walking around so much in this state.

John got pulled from his musings when Sherlock stood up, almost stumbled, then catched himself and looked at John. "We will go. The fresh air will do some good," he explained as a matter of fact which John accepted with a shrug and stood up too.

Not waiting for Sherlock to start walking he turned and did that himself, letting the detective slightly catch up to him before he matched his speed with the taller man.

They were covered in silence again, safe for Sherlocks bigger intake of air. John looked at him worryingly and opened his mouth to talk when Sherlock beat him to it.

"Seb wasn't very…I think you would call it nice," Sherlock attempted to sneer the word nice but it came out in a dimished way. As if he couldn't muster the strength to dislike the word. "He kept reminding me of my time in university. No one liked me then either."

While John starred at the sidewalk in front of him, he could feel Sherlocks eyes on him. John had the distinct feeling that Sherlock wouldn't share this with him under normal circumstances. The one thing that stood out of it all was the 'No one liked me then either'.

John continued is walk and stare when he answered. "That's not true. I like you." They had kind of covered that the last time too when he wanted Sherlock to give him the pill (he had destroyed it a day later so Sherlock wouldn't find it if the dimensions tried to switch more stuff) and he had thought that it had been clear that he wasn't alone.

If only they could just meet like normal people.

After his declaration John spoke on. "Whatever …Seb…said, just ignore it. Maybe it's the past or maybe you just don't give yourself enough credit, I can't judge that. But I met you and you are…a great person to know Sherlock," and that wasn't as easy to admit as it sounded. "So fuck Seb and finish the case, later of course, and you don't have to meet him again."

Only then did he look at the detective beside him and their eyes met. It looked as if Sherlocks eyes were watery, not unlike unshed tears, but he wouldn't call the other out on it. He looked gratefully at John and slowly nodded before he tore his gaze away and walked where they were going.

John too looked ahead again and walked beside the taller man.

Somehow they didn't find another, lighter, topic to talk about while they made their way home and so remained in a somewhat comfortable silence. Until Sherlock stopped and placed one hand on the wall beside him to support himself.

He took in bigger gulps of air as if he had run a marathon and looked tired. John immediately was at his side (he really wanted to help him support his weight but couldn't) and looked at Sherlock closely.

A few minutes ago he hadn't looked this sweaty and tired, simply relaxed and more open then he probably felt like. "Sherlock? What's happening, do you have trouble breathing!? Follow my lead," John offered and started to breath calm and controlled to make an example.

At first Sherlock didn't seem to have heard him at all until his breathing synchronized with Johns and he didn't look as panicked as he had started to become. If John would have given his surrounding any thoughts he would have noticed how strange he looked, breathing at a wall with nothing there.

He tried to guide the other on, wanting him back at the flat. "Come, we're almost there, just breath like me and stay close to the wall. You can do it." Meanwhile his mind raced with thoughts on how much Sherlock had taken. Had it been an overdose? If Sherlock had said the truth about him taking the drug just to calm his nerves (because of Seb? He hadn't ever said so directly), then he shouldn't have this reaction. How much had he taken?

"Just around the corner Sherlock, then we're there." John tried to sound positive but he sounded distressed and detached, he felt like going into battle modus which made his back straighten (he couldn't even drag Sherlock if it came down to that).

Still, somehow they made it around the corner and down the street, people giving him strange looks but he ignored them all. John even saw one shadowy figure stop beside Sherlock and bent a little down.

They probably asked him if he was alright if he read Sherlocks go-away-gesture correct.

Together they made it to the door of 221 Baker Street. John immediately went up to the door and opened it, hoping that this meant that the door would also be open for Sherlock.

He was right.

At least something that works like I want to, thought John and placed himself at the end of the stairs. "Can you make it upstairs?" Sherlock just nodded at him and proceeded to make the climb while John stayed at the bottom and watched him.

"I'll be right behind you," he assured the other (or hoped that he was assuring, he couldn't even catch him) and watched him warily, ready to declare a break if one was needed.

Before he could even take his first step the door to his landladies flat opened and she appeared in it, "Hoohoo John, I heard you talking to someone, do we have a guest? I could give you some bakery," she smiled at him, maybe hoping that he wouldn't be alone as always.

John just shook his head and tried to smile nicely at her (it probably was a grimace). "No thank you Mrs. Hudson, I'll be upstairs. It was a hard day and I just want some peace and quiet." That usually got her away for a few hours. He really liked her but she would just think him crazy after a few minutes in his presence while Sherlock was there and he couldn't really need that right now.

"Have a nice evening." He waved at her hastily and ran up the stairs where Sherlock had already made it there and had thrown himself on the couch.

John immediately threw his jacket of (he had aimed for its place but it landed on the floor) while he walked over to Sherlock, watching him closely. "How are you feeling? No lying."

Sherlock just lied there bundled in his coat taking great heaps of air in and exhaling them. The detective seemed to be somewhere else before his eyes finally found Johns. "I know…I know I can breathe but my chest feels strangely tight. I'm cold too, is it cold in here John?" Sherlock asked honestly confused which made Johns chest ache. It wasn't cold at all in here, Mrs. Hudson had seen to that and he was pretty sure that it was the same for Sherlock.

"Just…just try to level your breathing with my own again Sherlock. I'll get you a blanket," a fever his mind offered at Sherlocks sweaty curls sticking to his head while he retrieved the blanked over the back of the couch and let it fall over Sherlock. "I can't take your temperature but I'm very sure you have a fever, you should drink water Sherlock."

With that he stood up and swiftly went to the kitchen. He thought for a second that he had heard something coming from Sherlock. He tried to be as fast as possible and came back with a glass of water placing it in front of the couch.

"Sherlock? Can you lift the glass? Just take sips," the doctor urged and pointed at the glass when Sherlock looked at him again. The other just huffed and closed his eyes.

John immediately tried to grab Sherlock by the shoulders and shake him but his hands just moved through him. He could barely contain his anger and frustration at the situation.

He tried again but hovered with his hands on the edge of the detectives' shoulders, feeling a slight tingling sensation in his nerve endings. "Sherlock, look at me please, you have to drink a little bit and stay awake. Can you do that? Sherlock?" John wanted to shake him so bad, to rouse him, but he could see Sherlock slipping under the effects of the drug.

Somehow Sherlocks eyes opened to tiny slits and starred at John. "'m tired John. St'y." His speech was mumbled and deep, barely comprehensible but John understood what he wanted.

"Of course I'll stay. Just stay with me too, alright?" he asked back and took his hands away, placing his right one so that it lay besides Sherlocks. He had the distinct feeling that he could feel the heat of the other thrown back at him.

John didn't remember feeling that before.

But he couldn't think about that now, he had a patient to look over, no matter how untouchable.

Of course Sherlock didn't comply with his demand and slipped into a sleep that felt unnatural. He lied there very still and unmoving. It was unnerving.

He watched the other for what felt an hour (it had only been 13 minutes) before he stood up because of a cramp in his leg. John swiftly got his chair close to the couch to sit there, feet apart, his elbows on his knees while he leaned forward.

Not sure what he would do if Sherlock stopped breathing or the rate got under what was acceptable (it was very calm right now but still acceptable) but he intended to watch him all night if he had to. John moved his hand over his face for a second. He could already feel the day in his bones but he would soldier through, he had lived through worse (had he really? He wasn't sure in the face of Sherlocks friendship).

So he settled and watched the time drag on while nothing changed for Sherlock. He was completely out and not aware of anything. Though it was still better than anything becoming worse, so John was thankful for that.

After around 3 hours (long, stretching hours) John noticed that Sherlock looked different. His position hadn't changed but he looked…lighter? Did that make sense at all?

John mused worryingly about it when he knew what was happening. He had never seen it before because it always happened after he fell asleep.

Sherlock was fading away.

Not as in dying but he was becoming transparent, see through. John had always though that it happened from one second to another just like appearing around each other. Maybe that happened slowly too and Sherlock was just sneakier then he himself was.

Still, John got up and looked down on Sherlock. "Sherlock? I hope…," he swallowed before he continued, "that means that the drug is clearing out of your system. I would really rather you stayed but we don't seem to have a say in it. Please. Please, stop with the drugs." He felt a sting in his eyes but blinked it away. Sherlock really had to stop, he insisted on it. "I will miss you very much but stop with them. I need you to Sherlock. It's already bad enough that you don't exist here. Remember what happened to the other you? Yeah? We don't want that. I don't want that."

Strangely, this felt like saying goodbye and Sherlock couldn't even hear him, let alone respond. He just hoped that somewhere in that thick, amazing brain of his it would take root and stay there.

Slowly he bent forward and placed his hand so as if he would take Sherlocks hand reassuringly.

Two seconds later Sherlock had vanished and he looked at an empty couch. Standing up straight again he starred at it (his eyes didn't feel watery) before he bent down again and touched the cushions.

They still felt warm. This was either a very cruel trick or Sherlock had actually warmed the damn couch and left residue heat. Something he could touch that came directly from Sherlock.

It was only fair, Sherlock had, after all, taken his blanket with him, he thought stupidly.