"What the…?" John mumbled to himself as his gaze shifted from the book in his hands to the street outside his window. He saw Sherlock lying in the snow, stroking the air next to him. John returned to his book, managing a full five seconds of silence before he heard the sound of snow crunching beneath his window.
"John! John! Jooooohn, where are yoooooou?" he heard Sherlock call. John poked his head out the window to find Sherlock crawling around in the snow.
"Sherlock, are you okay?" John shouted from his window. Sherlock looked up at him with a massive grin on his face. John was worried. Very worried.
"John! There you are! Come here, my adorable puppy!" Sherlock stretched his arms out as if he were planning to catch him. He probably was.
"What the hell? What did you just call me?"
"Oh, if you're going to growl at me like that, I'll have to come to you!" Sherlock almost sang his words as he moved to the side of the house. John heard the shuffle of the ivy at the side of his house.
Oh my God, John thought, what is he doing? What the hell is going on?
"John," whispered Sherlock, "Jooooohn," John looked up and saw Sherlock peeking over the rooftop. John stared at him, mouth agape, as the head disappeared and was replaced by the boy's legs. John stumbled backwards, trying to avoid the swinging legs as they lowered themselves onto John's windowsill. Sherlock perched on the frozen sill like a vulture, a wry grin covering his face. John's heart was racing in fear and he cried out as Sherlock leapt at him. John squirmed under the weight of him and yelled at him to get off. Eventually, he pushed him off, finding that Sherlock was lying unconscious on the floor.
"What… the hell," John panted, "is going on?" he sat back in his chair, continuously glancing at the unconscious figure on the floor. Eventually, he picked Sherlock up (with great difficulty) and moved him to his bed.
When Sherlock woke, his head was aching and outside the window was dark. He heard shuffling near him and realised that he was in an unfamiliar bed. He shot up and surveyed the room. John was still sitting in the chair and had stiffened at Sherlock's sudden waking. They looked at each other, Sherlock with confusion and John with fear.
"Sh-Sherlock?" John whimpered. Sherlock snarled at him and lifted himself out of the bed painfully. His muscles were sore, and therefore moving was a difficulty.
"Sherlock… It's me, John. Are you alright?" John asked, moving from the chair.
"John," Sherlock wheezed, realising his throat was dry. He rubbed it aimlessly and stumbled, supporting himself on the head of the bed. He suddenly realised what had happened to him.
"Are you alright?" John repeated, walking slowly towards him.
"Hallucinations…" Sherlock mumbled. He was a hallucination… a tear started to form in his eye. John saw his eyes water and raised his hand to place it on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock batted it away and glared at him, "don't touch me," he hissed, storming out of John's room. John was surprised as he managed to find his way out of the house. He sat on his chair and watched as Sherlock practically ran back to the manor, rubbing his hand as the dark figure disappeared behind the door.
"Morning, Jim!" John smiled as he entered the school grounds. Jim turned to face John, stopping so he could catch up.
"Hi!" he replied cheerily, "ready for another day of school?"
"After what happened yesterday, I'm ready for anything," John sighed. Jim inquired about the problem and John relayed the events to him. Jim looked thoughtfully into the distance before turning back to him.
"That's Sherlock all right," he lied, "he's not quite there. Sometimes he just… does stuff like that. Think nothing of it, alright?"
"Alright," agreed John warily. Jim grinned and led John to the lockers. John pulled out his books for the coming lessons and talked to Jim about nothing in particular.
"Shit," mumbled Jim, "Uh, John?"
"Yeah?" John looked at Jim's face, a look of terror plastered across it, "Jim, what's up?"
"I have to go find something. It's really important. Do you mind telling the teacher I'll be a little late?"
"Of course I'll do that for you," John said as he closed his locker door, "I hope you find it," he smiled as he walked off to class. Jim closed his locker as well, turning in the other direction in search for Sherlock.
"Are you going to make this a habit?" Jim asked as he found Sherlock leaning against one of the buttresses at the back of the school. Sherlock scowled at him and Jim smiled.
"I thought I told you to stay away from me. And it's none of your business whether I skip classes or not," he growled. Jim walked closer to Sherlock and Sherlock shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm not talking about the classes," Jim whispered in his ear. Sherlock pushed him off, grabbing his bag as he started to walk off, "I can help you," Jim called. Sherlock whipped around and snarled at Jim, the Irish boy still standing with that grin plastered on his face.
"How the hell is someone like you meant to help me?" he snapped. Jim reached into his bag and pulled out a small metal box, offering it to Sherlock. Sherlock snatched if off him, glancing suspiciously at Jim as he opened the lid. Inside the metal box was a small brown bottle and a medical needle.
"Is this-?" Sherlock started.
"Yes. John told me about your activities yesterday. All the symptoms pointed to this," Sherlock picked up the small bottle as Jim spoke, "it was cocaine, yes?"
"How did you get this?"
"I have my ways, Sherlock. All you need to know is that I will get you whatever you need to feel better," Sherlock snapped the lid shut, leaving Jim smiling wider than was humanely possible as he took off with Jim's supply of drugs.
I wish there was some other way, Jim thought, some other way to make you mine.
"Ah, well. As long as I get him in the end," he smiled to himself.
*~*