The crime scene was just as Lestrade described – a high-end research facility with a large vat of liquid nitrogen in the corner of the room. The bodies were on the floor waiting to be examined.

Anderson walked over to one of the female corpses and knelt when he heard a loud voice, "Anderson! Don't touch them!" It was John.

"Why shouldn't I? I am the forensic tech on this case! Just because Sherlock doesn't get on with –"

"For God's sake Anderson! Put your petty feud with Sherlock aside! I just saved your fingertips! You touch that body and your fingertips will fuse to it! It's too cold to touch!" John was looking at Anderson like he was an idiot, which he was.

"It's like licking frozen metal and your tongue sticking to it…" Sherlock suppressed a grin, "I'm sure you know what that's like…"

"I'm not as much of an idiot as you make me out to be, Sherlock!" Anderson scolded.

"Then how come you have a scar on your tongue consistent with that sort of injury?" Sherlock smirked.

Anderson covered his mouth with his hand, turning a bright shade of crimson as he did so. John couldn't help but snicker. The image of Anderson stuck to some frozen metal pole or something by his tongue was priceless. He decided to go and talk outside with Lestrade while Anderson and Sherlock acted like children; that put him out of the firing line.

"I was five!" Anderson defended.

"More like ten…" Sherlock contradicted.

"Shut up, freak!" Sally interjected, "at least he's not on drugs!"

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused. What the hell were they talking about? He'd been clean for years.

"Anderson saw you, freak! You'll have to answer to Lestrade!" Sally leered.

"I'm clean! Yes, I made poor life choices; but can we just move on after the three year mark?! I have no desire to turn back to such… recreational activities…"

"I saw you popping pills, Holmes!" Anderson defended.

"There is a crime scene here! That is more important than what you think you saw me doing!"

"You aren't denying it!" Sally pushed.

"Yes, I am denying that I was taking illegal drugs!"

"Legal drugs! There are other ways to get high that are legal! Go on freak, what are you on?!" Anderson questioned.

"I'm not high!" Sherlock shouted. John, disturbed by the commotion coming from the room, decided to check on Sherlock.

"Yeah, what are you on, freak?!" Sally interrogated.

"We know you took something!" Anderson added.

"Nothing!" Sherlock lied, he'd been trying to avoid that.

"Liar!" Anderson contradicted.

"Liar! Lair! Liar!" Sally chanted, Anderson began to join in.

Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Too much!

"I'm on Chlorpromazine!" Sherlock finally screamed. He focused on something behind Sally and Anderson. Oh no.

John opened the door to the crime scene. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

"What? What the hell, freak?!" Sally growled.

"It's… It's an antipsychotic used to treat my late-onset schizophrenia!"

"Oh God!" John exclaimed. Sherlock was agitated; eyes wider than usual and he began to whip his head around, scanning the room.

"You really think we're gonna believe that!" Anderson spat.

"Sherlock?" John ran to his friend's side, "Are you having an episode?" Sherlock nodded fiercely.

"Oh God, he's got you on in this too?" Sally sighed.

"This is not some cover up or a practical joke! Sherlock was diagnosed a week ago; that's why he took time off!" John had had enough of Anderson and Donovan's crap.

"Scared…" Sherlock muttered, seeming almost paralysed by fear, "too real…"

"But you know it isn't real Sherlock. Try and calm down, it might help. It's too late for more meds; you have to just ride it out." John tried to comfort.

Sherlock started to franticly brush off his arms, legs and torso. "Help me!" he yelped.

"What's happening, Sherlock? What's going on?"

"Insects! Crawling over me, biting. It hurts! I can feel them! Get them off!" Sherlock was very distressed.

"They aren't real Sherlock. It's just in your head…"

Sherlock dropped to the floor. He pointed at Anderson and Donovan. "They did it! They released them on me! They want to kill me! Police! Police! Murder!"

"Sherlock it's ok; no one's trying to kill you…" John tried to remain calm.

"John. It's you! Don't let them get me!" Sherlock pleaded.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. You're safe."

"Maybe he isn't pretending, after all…" Anderson admitted.

"What made you guess?!" John asked sarcastically.

"They're monsters John! Run! Green fur and red eyes! Scales and fangs! Run! It's too late for me!"

"It's just in your head Sherlock. They're just Donovan and Anderson…"

The hallucinations seemed to melt behind Sherlock's eyes. "Oh God… I just had an episode in front of the entire MIT, didn't I?" John nodded. "I'm getting out of here!" Sherlock got up and sprinted to the exit.

"Sherlock…" John promptly chased after Sherlock. All Anderson and Donovan could do was stare on, mouths agape, like the goldfish they were.

Hey guys! Next chapter is the last one! But don't worry, I'll immediately start working on the teen!lock fic I've been thinking of for a little while; check it out if interested. It'll be called 'The school-ground freak'. But no pressure!

How'd you like the humour at the beginning? I couldn't resist the image of Anderson stuck to a pole by his tongue and the opportunity was right there! If you love it, you love it; if you don't, you don't.

Please review! I love reviews more than peanut butter ice cream! (And that's a lot!) ;)