You guys have been great! Thanks for reading/reviewing!
John spent the rest of the day running to keep up with all of the tasks that needed to be completed. He helped cover the tables, rinsed the dust off twenty-five complete table settings of the fine china, helped install some new rugs in the main corridors, helped set the tables, and evened out the gravel in the entryway. He was bone-tired and was thankful for a bit of rest during the actual dinner. He wasn't dressed properly to assist with anything during the actual arrival of the guests and he can't say that he really minded at all. He liked the flurry of activity surrounding the events at the Manor, but had no desire to actually interact with the self-important guests that attended them.
He still had another hour before the end of the event and wanted to be productive. He'd finished his latest book and had no desire to sit twiddling his thumbs waiting to assist with clean up and tear down. He wandered the back way into Mrs. Holmes's office and began working on the new bookcases she'd had delivered from Ikea. He was halfway through the second bookcase when he heard someone walking hesitantly down the hall. He poked his head out in curiosity and felt his heart palpitate at the guest.
"John!" The woman said surprised.
"Mrs. Sawyer." He answered back and shuffled his feet awkwardly. He stared at the woman and felt a wave of grief slip through his veins. Sarah resembled her mother so much. It had been months since the accident but the woman was obviously still mourning the loss of her oldest daughter. Everybody was actually. Sarah was the most popular girl in school. Everyone loved her and thought she was brilliant. She wanted to be a doctor and it was unanimously agreed upon that she would succeed. That is, until John's dad had gotten drunk and killed them both. And he could see Mrs. Sawyer thinking the exact same thing and staring at John with a hard edge.
"Can I, huh, help you with something, Mrs. Sawyer?" John asked awkwardly.
"The powder room?" She asked a little breathlessly.
"Right." He said. "Just down this hall, fourth door on the left."
"Thanks." She said tersely.
His legs felt like wet noodles as he jerked back into the room and slipped down against the far wall letting his head hang in between his bent knees. He was breathing heavily and couldn't even guess how long he'd been sitting there when Mrs. Hudson found him.
"Goodness, John." She called softly as he lifted his tear-stained face to look at her. "Let's get you home, dearie."
He was silent as Mrs. Hudson guided him through the house and out to the garage, he entered the car she pointed to as she went to get the keys from the wall and collapsed into himself for the entire ride.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Mrs. Hudson asked softly.
"No, I'll be fine." He grumbled. "Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."
"Take tomorrow off, dearie." She said firmly. "I'll pick you up on Thursday at 7am."
"Alright." He whispered.
He entered the empty house, stumbled to his room, and fell onto his bed fully clothed. He didn't have the energy to get up and change, but he was too upset to fall asleep. He just lay there for hours staring at the ceiling.
000000000000000000000
Sherlock jerked awake and felt his stomach roil painfully. He stumbled to the bathroom and heaved. His skin felt like it was on fire and his eyes were so sensitive the small amount of light peeking in from the blinds was causing stabbing pains through his head. He brushed his teeth to try and clear away the taste of stomach acid and rancid alcohol before leaning against the cool porcelain of bathroom tiles. He felt like death. All of his muscles were strained and sore leaving him shaky and unsteady.
"What the hell was that cut with?" Sherlock muttered to himself.
He took a hesitant step and felt his arse twinge painfully. "Well, we definitely did that last night."
He heard Jim stir in his sleep and made his way back to the bed. He climbed in and fought his sleeping partner for the duvet. He covered his head with a pillow to limit the amount of light attacking his photoreceptors and let his mind run hazily from thought to thought as he waited for sleep to claim again. He was almost startled at how easily his mind turned toward John Watson. He'd surprised himself with how interested he was in the other boy. It wasn't like he was extremely intelligent like Mycroft or fascinating like Jim, but he found that he enjoyed watching John and he hadn't minded helping him the other morning. It was pleasant.
"It better be thoughts of me that are putting that stupid grin on your face." Jim said roughly.
"Fuck off, Jim." He said schooling his expression.
"Well, that was a blast." Jim said changing the subject and stretching languidly. "Now get the fuck out. I have important shit to do that doesn't involve your posh arse."
"You're a twat." Sherlock said rising slowly and looking for his shirt and trousers.
"Sorry," Jim said. "But if anyone is the bitch in this relationship, it is definitely you, you fuckslut."
He ignored the comment and quickly donned his clothing before reaching for his phone. Twelve messages from his mother. Fantastic. He made his way quickly out the door without another word to Jim and began the two mile walk of shame back to the house. He was still shivering and pale from the drugs as he entered through the back of the house and tried to sneak upstairs without being noticed. He was just about to enter his room when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.
"You are doing a spectacular job turning your brilliant mind into a useless, drugged out soup, Sherlock." Mycroft said snottily.
"Fuck off." Sherlock said entering his room and slamming the door, locking it behind him.
For the second time that morning, he went to the bathroom and vomited up more vile tasting acid before taking an ice cold shower to get rid of the sweat coating every inch of his skin. He glanced down at his elbows as the water sent another set of shivers through his abused body. The track marks stood out as bright purple dots as the icy water hit his skin. He wrapped himself in a towel when finished and collapsed onto his bed stark naked letting sleep drag him under.
He awoke later with something heavy poking him in the side and someone yelling something at him.
"Get up, right now!" Mrs. Holmes shouted.
He rolled over to cover himself with a blanket before letting his eyes crack open to stare into the hurt-filled features of his mother.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sherlock!" She screamed again. "This is dangerous and you're killing yourself."
"Don't be an idiot." Sherlock grumbled. "I'm more than capable of administering the correct doses without problems. Now, let me go back to sleep."
He yelped as his mother pulled the sheets out from under him causing him to fall to the floor. "Like hell you will! I'm not going to let you get away with this. Get your arse out of bed and meet me in the office in five minutes or so help me I will call your father."
Sherlock grumbled loudly at her as she strode out the door and slammed it but got up and headed for another shower anyway. He had no desire to submit to his father's disciplinary actions if he could avoid it.
He spent the morning working on all of the homework his tutors had assigned that he'd been neglecting for the past three weeks under the watchful eye of his mother. He had everything completed by early afternoon and was forced to spend the rest of the day entering data from his mother's latest experiment into a database. Everything was incredibly dull. He was finally allowed to return to his room at 6pm and spent another two hours working on an experiment of his own. He felt a grin curl at the corners of his mouth as he heard the ping of a text on his mobile.
Meet me at Zero at 11pm. Try not to embarrass me. JM
Sherlock felt delicious waves of adrenaline seep into his system at the prospect of a night out. This was going to be brilliant.
0000000000000000000000
"John Watson?" The voice asked against the loud beating music of a club.
"Yeah?" John asked glancing at the clock and reading 1am in red lettering.
"Do you know a Harriet Watson?" The woman asked.
"Yes." John said feeling his heart deflate painfully.
"She needs to be picked up." The woman said. "Are you her father?"
"Her brother." He answered awkwardly. "Where is she?"
"Club Zero." The woman responded. "Do you know it?"
"Yeah." He said wiping the final remnants of sleep from his eyes. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Just tell the man at the door that you're here for her," The woman answered.
"Alright." John said slamming the landline phone down a little harder than actually necessary.
The club was only a few blocks away but he reached into his sock drawer to pull out several pounds. If they were calling, then she obviously wasn't in any state to walk home. He checked his Mum's room and was a little uneasy to find it empty again. He walked out of the house and into the night. He walked quickly and asked for Harry at the door as the man rolled his eyes and spoke into an ear piece before ignoring him completely. He commandeered a cab as they waited and sighed heavily as someone half-carried his sister out of the club. He was taking his sister from the club employee when some commotion made him turn around.
John's jaw dropped open as he saw two bouncers escort Sherlock Holmes out of the club and dump him on the sidewalk.
"Sherlock?" John asked shocked.
He absorbed the pale complexion, blown pupils, and tremors running through the boy's body as Sherlock stumbled to his feet and lurched toward him.
"John!" Sherlock cried happily nearly bowling them over in his drugged-up excitement.
"Sherlock!" John called trying to stabilize both Harry and the boy. "Woah, calm down. What's going on?"
"Obvious," Sherlock said rolling his eyes. "Don't be dull."
"Are you with someone?" John asked. "Can someone take you home?"
"Jim left." Sherlock said still flitting around John and grabbing at his shoulders.
"Did you call your brother?" John asked as he turned to get Harry in the waiting cab.
"Of course not!" Sherlock said with another put-upon sigh.
"Well, how are you going to get home?" John asked which caused Sherlock stop short and stare into space.
John rolled his eyes at the other boy. Apparently, the question had been enough to short circuit the rest of Sherlock's brain.
"Come on." John said wearily. "We'll get you home."
"No!" Sherlock practically shouted at John. "I can't go home."
John finished getting Harry settled before leveling an appraising look at the vibrating, junkie in front of him. "Get in. You can come home with me."
"Thank you, John!" Sherlock said launching himself into the cab and slamming the door.
John sighed heavily and got in the front with the cabbie. The ride was uneventful if you ignored the running commentary that was practically flying out of Sherlock for the entire five minute ride. John paid the cabbie almost double the fare and pulled Harry out carrying her to the house as Sherlock followed still chattering like a chipmunk. John settled Harry on the couch with a bucket on the floor by her head before turning to see the vibrating Sherlock inches from him staring like a dying man stares at prime rib.
"Sherlock," John said quietly. "Why don't we get you some water and get you tucked up in bed?"
"I'm not in the least bit tired." Sherlock said.
"Alright." John said running a hand through his hair. "Would you like something to eat?"
"Are you going to eat, John?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"Sure." John said.
"Okay then." Sherlock said whipping around and heading toward the kitchen.
John drowned out Sherlock's insistent chattering as he made them each a cheese toasty and forced three glasses of water down the other boy's throat. He saw Sherlock's eyes begin to flutter closed and helped the stumbling boy up the steps and into his own bed. He'd sleep in his Mum's room tonight. Sherlock was snoring lightly as John helped him out of his shoes and under the covers. John got another bucket to set next to the bed just in case and made his way down to the kitchen to make a phone call. He was a bit startled to have the phone pick up on the first ring.
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Holmes almost cried into the phone.
"Sorry," John said. "It's just John."
"John!" She said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." John said. "I just wanted to let you know that Sherlock's here with me at my house."
"Oh my god." She sighed heavily. "Is he alright?"
"Yeah," John answered. "He's asleep right now."
"I'll come pick him up." She said resolutely. "You shouldn't have to be responsible for him, John."
"Don't worry about it." He answered hurriedly. "He's asleep now and moving him would probably be worse than letting him sleep it off."
"Are you sure?" She said.
"Yeah." John said glancing at the clock. "Mrs. Hudson's picking me up at 7am anyway for work, I'll just drag him with me."
"Where did you find him?" She asked.
"Well…" John said embarrassed. "I got a call to pick up my sister at Club Zero and he was there as well."
"Oh god." She said forcefully. "Was he with Jim?"
"I have no idea." John said awkwardly really not wanting to get any further involved in a family squabble than he already was.
"Thank you, John." She sighed. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"Of course." John said. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
000000000000000000000000
Jim's such a dick!
Hope you are liking the story!