Chapter 15: By Your Side

Emmaline turned her head at the ringing of her phone. She had just finished putting her pajamas on and was about to go to bed. She expected it to be Sherlock calling to apologize for pressuring her about her past.

"Hello?" She answered the phone without checking her caller I.D.

"Is this Emmaline Johnson?" An airy English voice was on the other line.

"Who is this?" Emma demanded.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes. I assume Sherlock has mentioned me."

"What's wrong?" Emma's spine tingled with chills as she waited for a reply.

Sherlock had told her that he was not on speaking terms with his brother. If Mycroft was calling her, something bad had to have happened.

"Sherlock has been taken to Newham University Hospital on Glen Road, after falling unconscious of a drug overdose. I thought you might like to know so that you could visit."

"I'm on my way." Emma said before hanging up.

She threw on her coat and grabbed her purse, slipping on shoes, before running out the door without a goodbye to her grandparents. Emma threw up her arms in a frantic wave, needing a cab. One stopped for the man next to her and she pushed him out of the way, getting into the taxi.

"Newham Hospital!" She shouted at the driver.

The cabbie sensed the urgency in her voice and sped off. They made the half-hour drive in fifteen minutes thanks to his speed, and Emmaline paid him twice what she owed.

Emma sped to the front desk and inquired as to where Sherlock Holmes was being kept. The nurse told her the room and Emma raced for the elevators.

The slow ride up to floor five was the longest moment of Emma's life. Please be all right. Oh god, don't let the last thing I called him be 'stupid'. He is so much more brilliant, and deserves so much more than that! Please be all right Sherlock.

She exited the elevator and followed the directional signs down the hall to room 523. She mentally prepared herself to see Sherlock in a hospital bed and took a deep, shaky breath. She opened the door and stepped into the darkened room.

On first sight of the bed and its occupant, Emmaline's heart broke as it had when police had told her that her mother was dead. Sherlock lay quietly in the bed, his hair in disarray, and his chest was shallowly rising and falling. He was paler than she had ever seen him and she could just make out the beginnings of bruises forming under his eyes.

Next to the bed was an IV drip; the tube ended in a needle in Sherlock's arm. His heart monitor filled the room with its steady beeping.

Sitting in the chair next to him, was a tall, pale, slightly pudgy redheaded man. He appeared to be in his early thirties and Emmaline assumed this was Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. He stood upon Emma's entrance and held his hand out in greeting.

Emma took a glance at the proffered hand but made no move to shake it.

"Yes, well." Mycroft retracted his hand. "My brother is in a very bad shape."

"You said it was a drug overdose – did someone give him something?"

"Sherlock dosed himself. I am afraid he has been a constant user of morphine and after your argument tonight, did not pay attention to how much he was injecting."

Emma nodded her head but then whipped her head to look at him. "How did you know we had a fight?"

Mycroft smiled cheerily. "That's not important. You should know that my little brother is an addict, and that this is not his first foray into drugs. When he attended Cambridge he thought it fun to dabble in cocaine until he was arrested by Lestrade."

Emmaline paled; this was much serious than she had thought.

"I see you understand the gravity of the situation. So, my little brother will be entering an addiction rehab clinic as soon as he is discharged from the hospital."

"Whatever is best for him." Emmaline agreed.

Mycroft took a step closer to her and ignored Emmaline's flinching back from him.

"I do not know who you are, but my brother was better with you. He took the drug less. So please, help him. Help him get better."

"I am going to help him, because I want to. He's my friend." Emmaline stood up to her full height and stepped around Mycroft to sit in the chair he had just vacated, by Sherlock's bedside.

"Nonetheless, I thank you. Moreover, if you would Miss Johnson, keep this meeting a secret between us. I am afraid my brother would not react well if he knew I had actually visited him."

Mycroft inclined his head before stepping out of the room. Emma scooted the chair as close to the bed as it would go before curling her knees against her chest.

"Oh Sherlock." She whispered sadly.

She reached out a hand to trace her fingertips down his cheek. He stirred slightly but did not wake up.

"My poor Sherlock." She whispered.

Emma leaned forward over the bed and kissed his forehead. Her poor Sherlock…how could she have known him for six months, but he had been able to keep something this big from her? She shook her head, not wanting to think about it.

She grabbed his hand and hunkered down in her chair. She would have to remember to call work in the morning and tell them she could not make it on. How could she leave Sherlock's side? She had to be here with him. As she thought this, her eyelids drooped and she quickly fell asleep in the chair, her hand still clutching Sherlock's.

Mycroft saw and told the night nurse to allow Emmaline to stay in the hospital. At the sight of his credentials, the nurse hastily agreed. Mycroft smiled before leaving the hospital and going home. He had to arrange for his brother's arrival at the rehab facility.

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Sherlock fought through the black fog and drifted up into hazy consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was that his head hurt and it hurt to think. The second thing was that someone was touching his hand. He blinked open his eyes and cast them down to the bed.

He followed the hand that held his, up the arm, and saw Emmaline next to his bed, sleeping in a chair. The feeling of shame immediately washed over Sherlock and he yanked his hand back. He was embarrassed that she knew his secret, and bothered that she had clearly spent the night sleeping in that chair.

Emmaline stirred and opened her eyes slowly, stretching her arms above her head.

"Are you awake?" She asked sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"Go away." He growled.

"That's a yes." Emma moved her legs out from under her, wincing at their soreness.

"I said, go away!" He yelled.

"No." She replied simply. "We're friends again, and what I said last night, I didn't mean it."

Sherlock blushed and turned his head away from her. Emmaline sighed.

"Look, sulk all you want, but I'm not leaving your side. Ever. So get used to it." She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Emmaline walked over to where his coat was draped across the back of a small sofa and took his keys.

"Now I have to go shower, and change, and eat. I will stop by your flat and get my laptop to take home, and I will bring you one of your favorite books. I'll even read it to you."

Emmaline put his keys in her pocket and picked up her purse, walking towards the door.

"Thank you." Sherlock said gruffly.

Emmaline smiled as she paused in the doorway. She did not acknowledge his thanks. Because she knew, it meant that he was sorry too. Instead, she walked out the door with a wave and left the hospital. In the cab, she called her job and told them she would not be making it in that day.

She leaned her head back against the cab seat as they drove. Sherlock was a drug addict, but he was a survivor. He would get through this. And she'd help him, in any way that she could. Because that was what friends did for one another. Emmaline smiled. She and Sherlock were best friends, and she would not abandon him.

The thought crossed her mind that maybe if he knew the truth about her, he would not abandon her either.

Monsters are real, ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win. ~~ Stephen King