A/N: One is still feeling down, hope this one is slightly better though.
Thank you Rori Potter, xDarkLightx, derderxp , Sakurai Haruka, .Angel and bookworm0902 for reviewing and everyone else who followed or favoured.
Warning: Mention of drug abuse.
It has been a month, since Harry walked out and last talked to Sherlock. Sherlock's neighbours would be quick to tell you how the screeching of a violin never stops, how rare it became to see the self-declared consulting detective out of his flat. The screeching of a violin is the only sign he is still alive.
In truth, Sherlock has locked himself up in his flat, concentrating on pouring his heart out through the violin. With each screech only those who carefully listen can tell of its owner's pain.
Who would have thought that Harry Potter would resort to making potions to distract himself? During that month Harry spent most of his time brewing potions, it didn't help to distract him that much, it only frustrated him more much to the amusement of Snape.
As a last resort Harry popped over to Hogwarts and was permitted by Headmaster McGonagall to give an honorary class for the current Hogwarts students. Those fourteen lessons, two blocks each wore Harry out for the week. Thankfully he was having fun with the kids though.
One night on the final week where the second month is dying, the phone rings. Harry blindly reaches for it, annoyed at being awakened by that blasted songs.
"Hello?" Harry asks, voice hoarse from sleep. The person on the other side keeps breathing for a few seconds then says three words.
"I am clean." Sherlock hangs up, lets the phone drop somewhere on the floor and pulls the blankets tighter around him.
Miles away Harry stares at the ceiling and presses his hands to his eyes to stop the flowing tears.