Hi! Sorry for the delay, I realize that this is very short. I'm sorry

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Sherlock was going into withdrawal that much was clear to him; everything else though was melting into need, everything reminded him that he had to have a hit and everything reminded him that he would not get one. He was shaking, sweating, nauseated, he told all this to the nurse who was constantly checking up on him but she said that it was all normal and that in a few hours he would feel a lot better. He could not wait, he had to get out of there, otherwise his brother would have him committed to a rehab centre and, needless to say, he could not have that.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath and emptied his mind completely, after five minutes his pulse rate started going down. He had been training his body to lower his heart rate at will since he was twelve, it was a great way of scaring the nurse into letting you go home. After ten minutes his pulse rate was too low and a couple of alarms went off, doctors and nurses rushed into the room and began trying to revive him, he waited until the moment was right and then sat up quickly, taking a deep breath as if he had been drowning, he grabbed one of the doctors by the lab coat and took his ID without him noticing, he pushed him back down and re-checked his vitals.

"Call his brother" the doctor said looking at one of the nurses, when she rushed out he turned his attention back at Sherlock "Good to have you back with us, do you know where you are?"

"Hospital?" Sherlock croaked, faking his tired expression "What happened?"

"You went into cardiac arrest, you are ok now and your brother is on his way"

"Thank you" he said, apparently overwhelmed with emotion, he even let a tear or two escape "Thank you so much"

"No problem, try to remain calm" He left the room.

"God, what a moron"

Mycroft arrived ten minutes later, worried by the doctor's words, his brother thanked him? For doing what he's supposed to? There was something seriously wrong with Sherlock and he had to find out what it was.

"Oh you're here, good" Sherlock said as soon as he walked in "I need to get out of here, look I'm clean"

"You are not, you have just been given methadone to stop the withdrawal effects" Mycroft sighed "Furthermore, I cannot get you out because you just had a heart attack and the doctors need to keep you under observation"

"I don't care, I'm ok, I just need to get out" Sherlock was doing his best to sound desperate and apparently he was doing a good job because his brother's face softened noticeably. Maybe seeing him in the hospital was really affecting him "Please, just get me out My" Mycroft sighed and shook his head, Sherlock looked down "Could you at least get me something more comfortable to wear?" Mycroft nodded

"I'll come back tomorrow" Mycroft left and arranged that someone gave his brother some scrubs.

Meanwhile Sherlock was genuinely shocked by his brother's attitude towards him, usually Mycroft would see right through the deception and then ruin it. Mental note: Something is wrong with Mycroft, need further data.

The next step was easy, he turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door from the outside, then he took his chart, a stethoscope and walked out of the room, hoping that nobody would notice that he was barefoot and did not look anything like the man on the ID. Apparently the chart and the stethoscope were enough for the agents at the door "He's taking a shower" He said without looking up from the chart, the agents nodded. On his way out Sherlock passed through the medicine cabinet and grabbed morphine and methadone, he knew it was a risk but it was necessary, at least until he got hold of some money.

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Again, sorry for the length (or lack thereof) I know this is not what I promised but I swear I'm already writing the next chapter and you will have it in no time.