"If nothing can be done, leave him." Mycroft spoke matter-of-factly. "I'll have him picked up in the morning."
"Picked up?"
"Yes. A hospital, first, will probably be in order. Then a facility."
"You mean rehab."
"Precisely. He's out of control. You saw how bad it was, so I won't bother going into detail. I can't stand for it any longer."
John cast a glance at Sherlock's door, which was still slightly ajar, just enough for him to glimpse the back of that curly head and a bit of his hunched shoulders.
Pity.
It was worse than he'd expected.
John had wanted him to feel guilty—to be sorry—but he hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted him to ruin himself. And over what?
Being alone again?
He paused for a second. Maybe that wasn't such an outrageous reason after all. Now it was John who was feeling guilty.
But he really shouldn't—after all that... And it was only natural for a man to move on a bit after he's found the right woman. Wasn't it?
Sherlock should have been fine. This was over the top. Too much.
The detective had always been too much.
He couldn't even handle himself sometimes.
But still... somebody had to try.
"I'm going to go check on him again. I'll tell you if there's anything more I can do in a little bit, when I come back."
Mycroft nodded, and turned to go. "I do appreciate this, by the way. You know how I worry."
"Sherlock?" The door squeaked on its hinges slightly as he pushed it open, but the consulting detective didn't move, lying with his back to him. "Hey... are you still awake?"
There was still no answer, so John moved over to the bed, side-stepping a broken cup on the way there. Sherlock's eyes were open, staring intently at the opposite wall, but he was perfectly still.
Like a statue.
Or a corpse.
"Sherlock, I know you're awake. I need to check your vitals. Come on."
"Don't bother."
"What?" John frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "You need help."
He still hadn't moved an inch, or hardly blinked, that John could tell. "I'm not your responsibility. Leave me alone."
"I'm a doctor. Making a fucking house call. This is what I do. Now come on and sit up again so I can work, or I'm just going to leave you here at Mycroft's mercy. That's not what you want, is it?"
"You've already done that, for a whole year." Sherlock finally rolled over and looked up at him morosely. "It's so boring..."
"Then find something else to do, something that won't destroy your body like this. If you were anywhere close to this, you could have told us... you could have come to me, talked about it..." He gingerly helped the detective sit up again, more because he wanted to be supportive than because Sherlock actually needed it, and began checking vitals.
The whole time the doctor was checking his heartbeat Sherlock was giving him a plaintive look, staring him right in the eyes, and after a while John couldn't help but look away.
"John..."
"What."
"You don't have to do this. You don't have to... force yourself to be here. I can probably talk Mycroft out of sending me back to rehab, and you won't have to bother with making house calls again because I don't need them. I'm not asking for that. You can go back home to Mary. I won't mind."
John heaved a sigh. "I can't just leave you alone like this. You have a problem—the drugs have to stop. Okay? You're not getting out of rehab, if you can't stop on your own. And I'm not forcing myself. Yeah, I'm upset about what you did, but you're still my friend."
"I didn't really die, but you still mourned as if I had. Your grief deserves legitimacy, at the very least... Now it's not so pointless."
John's reserve cracked a little, and he stopped in the middle of feeling for Sherlock's pulse and leaned his forehead against the detective's shoulder wearily. "...Shut up. Just shut up. Stop it. Stop this..."
"But it helps..."
John lowered his head and gave up trying to keep his shoulders from shaking.
Fuck the world.
Damn it all to hell.
Sherlock didn't push him away, but hesitantly rested an arm across John's back in an awkward, exhausted attempt at comfort, staying quiet.
"Just stop it... please..."