Next chapter, titchy little chapter so my apologies! All the plot bunnies in my head are fighting and getting in each others' way... *sigh* I will get them in line eventually. But I did manage to squeeze a mini-chapter out here. The parts in italics in speech marks are lyrics from a song called 'I Need a Doctor' by Dr Dre, Skylar Grey and Eminem, and so I don't own the rights to those words either but they were my inspiring influence here, and if the artists have a problem with it they can come find me!

Please review if you have time, I feel I've lost my way with this fic a bit and any tips or suggestions would be massively appreciated. My thanks to all those who have previously reviewed.

As ever I don't own any rights to Sherlock or the original ideas of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I sat in my chair in Baker street, trying to process the thoughts buzzing around my head, feeling I could understand why Sherlock would turn to Nicotine (and other stimulants) to try to catch up with his thoughts. Giving up when I started to get dizzy, I got up and turned on the radio, having another voice in the flat was remarkably soothing. As I stood the dizziness got worse and it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten in... well a while at least. I set about making myself some tea and toast, the simplest form of nutrition I could find. I smiled grimly to myself as I found that Mrs Hudson had provided me with fresh bread and milk. So much for not being our... my housekeeper. As I sat down with my cuppa, feeling the warmth spread through my cold hands, I started to catch the odd lyric from the radio.

"...death is starting to creep in, every day just so grey and black. Hope, I just need a ray of that..."

How strange that songs can capture how we feel even written by a stranger about a completely different situation. I suppose 'hope' is what I was offered when Sherlock came to me the other day, I would say he rescued me, but all he really did was pull me back from the edge, literally and mentally, and left me to fall a shorter distance.

"...all I know is you came to me when I was at my lowest, you picked me up, breathed new life into me, I owe my life to you..."

Maybe I shouldn't be so angry with him, meeting him saved me, brought me back to life after the war. His death only hit me so hard because of how much he means to me,

"...I don't think you realise what you mean to me, not the slightest clue, cos me and you were like a crew I was like your sidekick..."

I stand up and frown at the radio, wondering if my suspicions about the lyrics counts as paranoid thoughts just as the chorus repeats

"I need a doctor, doctor to bring me back to life."

As if the decision has been made for me, I turn off the radio and pull my mobile out of my pocket, Sherlock always preferred to text, but since I don't really know what I'm going to say, I call instead.

"Hello? Sarah... I know it's been a while since we spoke..." I have always struggled to ask for help even when I was a kid, fortunately she interrupts me!

"John? Oh it's so good to hear from you, I wanted to call of course I heard about what happened, but I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate. How are you coping?"

I sighed with relief for such an opening, "Truthfully, not too well... That's sort of why I was calling, I could use your help."

There was a few moments silence at the other end before I heard, "Of course John, anything I can do, but may I ask, do you need my help in a professional capacity, or as a friend?"

I hesitated before answering, as I hadn't expected such blunt honesty, but eventually I admitted, "A little of both, sorry to say."

"Then I tell you what, I finish my shift in an hour, come meet me at the surgery and we'll grab a coffee. How does that sound?"

"Like the best idea I've heard today. I'll see you in a bit."