Sherlock Holmes woke up on a couch in their house. John was knelt beside him while Mary was getting water.
"Hey Sherlock, how are you feeling?" John asked, with a concerned look. He still felt uncertain about the situation. He grabbed a cup of water from Mary's hand and put it to his lips. Sherlock drank a sip of the water before answering.
"I'm fine-" Sherlock paused, reaching for his head. "John. Really..." A subtle pained expression arose on Sherlock's face. John felt Sherlock's forehead before resting his hand on his arm. At least he didn't feel ill, but his starch white face contrasted only by the blue-ish circles beneath his eyes told a different story.
"Why did you come over? Before you fell, you had said you needed something. What is it you need?" John asked. Sherlock sighed.
"I don't know John. Whatever I said.. I don't know." Sherlock averted his gaze to Mary, wide mouthed in shock, staring at the half-dead detective on the couple's couch.
"What are you looking at?" asked Sherlock. Mary apologized before leaving the room, leaving the two alone.
"Sherlock, please tell me. What's wrong? I'm really worried about you!" John said sincerely. Sherlock, having been still dizzy and disoriented from the fall began to tell John his problems.
"I can't sleep John. Ever since you left Baker street... I need sleep!" Cried Sherlock, desperate and seemingly out of it.
"I have taken every drug I can get my hands on, but nothing is working. John I think I..." Sherlock paused.
"No, I've told you enough already. I don't know what to do, John." Sherlock said solemnly. John had tears welling up in his eyes, seeing his usually prideful partner breaking down in front of him. If only he had known, he could have done something about it earlier. If only...
"Sherlock, let me help you. I can help find what the cause is and... I suppose you can stay for the night." John concluded.
And for the first time in months, Sherlock took a sigh of relief. "Thank you, John."