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John found that his anger followed him to work. Normally work was a distraction from Sherlock but he was finding today that Sherlock was becoming a distraction from his work. He made mistakes, was slower than usual and was just generally short with people. His co-workers tried to make small talk in the morning but after a few misplaced remarks no one bothered him the rest of the day. Normally he would leave work feeling rather refreshed. It was hours that he was able to distance himself from him own problems and help others with their problems and that always felt good, to focus on someone else other than himself. But today he found himself actually counting the hours until he could leave.

When it was closing time he made his way out of the building faster than he ever had before. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. 10 missed calls- all from Sherlock, but no messages. 5 text messages- also from Sherlock

So, where is this new job of yours John? –SH

What time do you get off?-SH

John, I don't seem to be able to find any of my things in the flat. Did you keep any of my things?- SH

Are you off work yet?-SH

When you come home, pick up some milk?- SH

John sighed. That's what happened when Sherlock was left to his own devices with no case and nothing else to distract him. John noticed 1 text message from Stamford asking if he wanted to go out for a drink after work. John didn't have to think twice.

Twenty minutes later John and Stamford sat at a small table at the local pub. John downed his first glass and was starting quickly on his second when Stamford grabbed his glass " Hey, uh, why don't you slow down a little" he suggested.

John snatched the glass from Stamford's hand and began to drink. He had finished the glass, slamming it down on the table. Stamford was staring at John "What?!" he snapped.

Stamford's eye widened " Wow, someone's sure on edge tonight" he said.

"I'm not edgy" John said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I'm just looking to relax"

Stamford gave John a knowing look " What's up?"

John was reluctant to talk. The last thing he wanted to do when he was trying to forget about Sherlock was talk about Sherlock. He didn't look at Stamford as he ordered another drink. Normally he wouldn't drink so much, especially in public (as that tended to break his "normal" façade) but tonight he just didn't care.

"John" Stamford said softly as he leaned towards John so that he could be more discreet "I know what yesterday was. I know it was hard on you. You can talk about it if you want"

As John started on his third drink he could feel his resolve weakening as the alcohol began to get to him. "You don't even know the first of it" John said.

"Well you could let me in on it" Stamford said.

As John finished his third drink he couldn't think of any reason not to tell Stamford. John leaned towards Stamford and motioned him to lean forward as well. " This has to stay between you and me, completely between me and you" he said.

"Of course" Stamford said.

"Yesterday…." John started. He knew that Stamford was probably going to think that he was crazy. But then again he thought himself crazy yesterday. "Sherlock….is….alive" he practically whispered.

Stamford leaned back slightly and his eyes widened. " What?" he said surprised.

"Yesterday I woke up and Sherlock was in my flat" John said. "He's still there now. He's been alive all this time."

Stamford held a look of disbelief on his face " If he's been alive all this time, then where has he been and why would he fake his death?" he asked.

"I don't know" John said, "things got heated, I punched him and that was about it. We really haven't talked about it yet"

John surveyed Stamford's face, looking for signs of how he was taking it. "Sounds like you need another drink" he said as he ordered another one for John.

Yep, John thought, he definitely thinks I'm crazy.

…

Bored….It was terribly boring to have nothing to do all day. Sherlock felt as though his mind was disinigrating without a case to solve. The nicotine patches helped some but still it wasn't enough. He wasn't going to try to talk to anyone at the station until he had talked to John about what had happened and he hoped that that would be soon so he could back to things as they had been.

Where was John? Sure, Sherlock knew that John had went to work but that had been a good 12 hours ago. He should have been back by now. He hoped that he came home soon so that he could have something to do beside think about how his brain cells were being destroyed by the mundane.

Sherlock heard a sound outside the door and walked to window. He saw a cab pull up to the curb and expected to see John get out but instead he saw John's friend Stamford get out of the cab. So, John was out with Stamford, not unusual. What he saw next was unusual. Stamford went around the other side of the cab, opened the door and reached in. A few seconds later John emerged from the cab supported heavily by Stamford. John's legs moved clumsily and at one point Stamford practically had to pick John up from the pavement. John was intoxicated which was strange. Sherlock knew that John drank less than he would prefer at times because he didn't want to be like his sister and rely on the drink to get him through life. Sherlock knew that John felt strongly about this and yet…..

Sherlock looked at the stumbling form of his friend and then looked around the flat considering the large amount of alcoholic bottles that he'd seen around the flat- empty. He thought about John's poor eating habits and his messy living space. Something was wrong with John; he was no longer fighting for his view to stay away from the bottle. Sherlock knew from John's behavior last night and this morning that he was upset but Sherlock now felt it was more than that. Something had happened to his friend while he was away to damage him.

Sherlock went to the door and opened it as Stamford reached out for it. When Sherlock saw the look on Stamford's face he feared the man might have a heart attack. He turned pale white and froze on the step. "He's not crazy…." He whispered quietly, trying to keep it to himself. His eyes widened with disbelief.

"No, a little unstable but hardly crazy" Sherlock said pleasantly. He motioned for Stamford to come into the flat and he stumbled into the room, still starring at Sherlock like he was an oddity. That wasn't anything really new since people often didn't understand him. He was sure he'd get more of that same look in the days and weeks to come.

When Stamford and John stepped into the living room Sherlock was able to see more clearly how badly John was doing. He was barely conscious, his eyes bloodshot and glazed, his face red and sweaty. Sherlock was alarmed; he had never seen John like this.

He moved out of the way as Stamford carried John to his bedroom. When Stamford emerged from John's bedroom he was wrenching his hands nervously. "I really didn't know" He said, " I would have cut him off sooner but I really thought he was going loony and he was so upset that I couldn't bear to do it this time"

Sherlock was puzzled " Upset? What he was upset about" he asked.

"I sent him a text and asked if he wanted to go out tonight" Stamford said " You know, I figured after yesterday that he would need someone to talk to. Well, I could see he was really upset and I just figured it was because of yesterday. But then he tells me you are alive. I didn't believe him, I was sure that he had finally lost it" Stamford lowered his voice "He's done good hiding it these years but I know he really isn't well. So, he was just completely insistent that you were alive. I felt sorry for him and let him keep drinking when I should have cut off."

Sherlock was confused. " What do you mean yesterday? Why should he be so upset about yesterday?"

Stamford raised his eyebrows " Really?" he asked in disbelief " Because of you, of course. Your death….or supposed death I guess. He thinks you've been dead all this time and he has been trying to deal with it. Then he finds out you've been alive all this time? No wonder he's so messed up" He shook his head and looked toward John's bedroom with concern on his face. "I'll give him a call tomorrow, check on him" he walked to the door and walked back out into the night.

Sherlock stood in the same place that he'd been in when talking to Stamford. That was the reason for all this? All of John's strange behavior, his drinking, his limp, all of it was because of Sherlock's death? Sherlock found it hard to believe. He knew that when he left it would be hard on his friend. But this hard? Why should it be this hard?

Sherlock walked to John' bedroom and stood in the doorframe, watching his friend. John was sprawled out on his bed face first, still in his shoes and coat. He appeared to be out cold until Sherlock saw him move his arm. Sherlock walked up to the bed. John was facing the other direction but Sherlock knew he was still awake. "John" he said, " Are you….okay?"

John muttered something unintelligible into his pillow.

"Listen John, I know that you're really upset and I confess that I don't know what to say" Sherlock said. He was uncomfortable. Talking about feelings was not easy for him.

John muttered something Sherlock couldn't hear, though this time louder.

"Stamford says you've been doing very poorly" Sherlock said, " And he said that is because I was gone, and-

John rolled over so that he was facing Sherlock, though he kept his eyes closed. " Out" he said quietly.

Sherlock didn't move and so John said louder, " Out, get out Sherlock"

"I know you're highly intoxicated" Sherlock said, " So I know you probably don't want to talk but I really think-"

"Out!" John shouted, his face scrunching into a mask of pain though he refused to open his eyes. "I said get OUT! God, Sherlock, just get out! The last thing I want to do is listen to you drone on. Please, just leave me alone"

His face was both angry and sad at the same time. Sherlock wasn't sure what he'd done wrong this time, but he left John's room. Sherlock's chest felt tight and odd; he knew that he was having an emotion but he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He knew logically that John was intoxicated and didn't mean to say anything mean spirited to him, so there was no reason to be having any strange feelings, so he wasn't sure where this was coming from.

Sherlock left John alone the rest of the night. He only went into John's room once more; he was sure that John was asleep because he didn't yell when he came in. Sherlock placed a wastebasket beside John's bed and a glass of water on the bedside table. He would need it when he awoke.

He walked back to the door and before he walked out he turned back toward John and said, " I am sorry, John" before closing the door.