Chapter 16: Cleaning Up

Sherlock spent Saturday and Sunday in the hospital before being discharged early Monday morning. His brother had picked him up and immediately dropped him off again at a drug rehab Centre – his home for at least six weeks.

Mycroft had been kind enough to tell the nurses and orderlies that Emmaline was to have free reign over visiting hours, but could not stay late into the night or sleep over. Sherlock appreciated this kind gesture. He did not think he could do this on his own.

Sherlock sighed and rolled over in bed. He had been here for a week and his roommate was insufferable. Toby was a recovering meth addict and had been in rehab twice before. His current stay was bearing close to the eight-week mark as he had yet to 'properly recover'. His family insisted that the Centre keep him until he was fully healed of his addiction, and they paid handsomely to keep him there.

It was not that Sherlock thought Toby's addiction unbearable, his roommate often stole pills and took them, but his screaming out in the night. Toby often suffered from nightmares and cried out in his sleep, followed by flailing around in bed, and then proceeding to fall out of said bed before waking up.

Other than this annoying little fact, Sherlock did not mind Toby at all. In fact, he enjoyed that Toby did not mind Sherlock's quite attitude, or their cluttered living space. Sherlock had proceeded to disorganize their room beyond recognition upon his arrival. Emmaline had been kind enough to bring him a few of his favorite books to read, and once she had read to him from one she liked, No Country for Old Men. Sherlock had thought it satisfactory.

During the week, she would come and visit from five in the afternoon and stay until ten when the nurses kicked her out. They spent time in the common room talking and playing games, or Emmaline often did homework while Sherlock read. Having her around was as if he was slipping into a more comfortable version of his old routine.

She spent all her time on the weekend at the Centre, bringing him new books and magazines to read. She did her homework Friday night with him so her whole weekend would be free for them to enjoy in the common room.

The weekends, Sherlock had learned, were his free time. He was allowed to spend time in his room, the common room, the library, or to walk the grounds. An orderly was always within sight of every patient so he was never truly alone. In his room were cameras so they could keep an eye on the recovering addicts, and Mycroft had made him promise he would not go looking for them.

Last Saturday had been his first weekend in the Centre and he had been prepared to sulk in his room all day. Upon entering the cafeteria for breakfast however, he had seen Emmaline sitting at a table alone and eating doughnuts and orange juice. A smile of relief so big he thought it would crack his face, happened upon Sherlock's face. He was glad to see his friend.

She had brought him a novel and had updated him as to the happenings with his new experiment on brain tumors.

"Honestly, how did you get a brain in your freezer?" She had asked sincerely.

"I know someone at St. Bart's. A very nice young woman who works as a pathologist. I met her there in the Chemistry labs when I was trying to do research for Lestrade last year."

"A female friend?" Emmaline wiggled her eyebrows.

"Well, I don't think we are friends, we are not very close."

"You're not just using her to get body parts are you?" Emmaline inquired seriously.

Sherlock had no reply and looked sheepishly down at his breakfast. Emmaline had laughed shortly, before putting on a serious face.

"You need to be nice to her Sherlock. Not everyone gets bodies from the morgue just because they know a pathologist. I bet she likes you." Emma had smiled at Sherlock's confused expression before pushing his bowl towards him. "Eat."

They had spent all of Saturday together, and Sunday as well. Never once had she asked about his drug use or what it had entailed. Nor had she passed judgment on him for it. She was waiting for him to bring it up. Sherlock was happy to have a friend that let him speak about things when he wanted to.

Now that it was Monday, he would have to wait to see Emmaline until after she got out of school. Besides, during the week, his daytime was not his own. He had to join group therapy sessions every Tuesday and Thursday; private therapy sessions he attended every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He had to talk about his past and feelings with surprising regularity in 'group', and so far had refused to do so.

If anyone were expecting him to talk, then they would be sorely disappointed. Sherlock did not talk about his sordid past any more than Mycroft did.

Sherlock got out of bed and dressed in the white linen pants and shirt that every resident were given. The white slippers went on next and then his I.D. bracelet with name, room number, and previous addictions. Mycroft had sent him to the best place he could think of. Only the best to cure his little brother.

He was not surprised to see he had no visitors waiting. Mycroft had come to see him once, on the second day of Sherlock's 'imprisonment' in the Centre. All he had come to say was how proud mummy was of him for finally doing something about his 'little problem'. Since then he had not seen his elder brother.

Emmaline was busy in school and so would not greet him in the mornings. Sometimes Sherlock missed this. After they had gotten to being friends, she would come over early on weekends to bring him breakfast; without her reminder, he would forget to eat it. Gradually that had become her coming over every morning before school and leaving breakfast outside his door. Sherlock smiled at the fond memory.

Not even Detective Inspector Lestrade was there. He had only visited once as well, the day after Mycroft. Lestrade had warned him that this was Sherlock's 'last chance' to get clean. If he could not get his act together this time, Sherlock would no longer be allowed to consult.

Sherlock sighed as he spooned out his oatmeal and grabbed a carton of milk. Today would be as lonely as last Monday had been. He even had the same awful therapy session with Dr. Catherine Oppel to look forward to. He was surprised she still wanted to be his therapist after he had told her his husband was, in all probability, cheating on her.

However, Dr. Oppel had continued seeing him every day without fail. Sherlock sat down alone at his table and ate his breakfast, looking forward to the day's end and Emmaline's visit.

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Emmaline was walking down the hall to the common room when she bumped into Mycroft, who was leaving.

"Hello." He said contemptuously. He stared down at her outfit in disdain.

Emmaline noticed but chose not to comment. She realized how kind he was being with allowing her to visit Sherlock so she bit her tongue.

"How is he today?" Emmaline inquired.

"Rather morose I am afraid; he refuses to talk to his therapist."

"He never has a problem talking to me." Emmaline stated simply.

She stepped around him.

"Emmaline, please do try to convince him to talk to his therapist."

Emmaline stopped and threw him a glance over her shoulder. "I will on one condition."

Mycroft sighed, assuming she wanted something. "What is it?"

"I think Sherlock should have a violin. He said he plays and I think it would help him."

Mycroft's brow rose in surprise. She was actually asking for something for his brother. "Well, Christmas is coming up rather soon." He promised.

Emma smiled before walking into the common room.

"Sherlock!" She walked over to the corner where he sat, sulking. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing now." He smiled brightly. "Honestly, I thought you would never show up. My therapist is unbearable." He sighed.

Emma pulled over a small coffee table and grabbed the Cluedo board from the shelf.

"How so?" Emma asked as she set up the game.

Sherlock sat down across from her at the table, on his knees. "She keeps trying to get me to speak about my past."

"Well, why don't you? These people are trying to help you."

"I don't need their help. I was perfectly fine without them." Sherlock pointed out.

"Sherlock…you really weren't." Emma's piercing look made Sherlock want to look away.

"You don't know."

"It's been nine days since you had anything and already you look less sick. The difference is…scary. Sometimes I question why I didn't know because you look different now."

"Do I really?" Sherlock met her gaze.

"There's more color in your cheeks." Emma smirked.

Sherlock looked down at the board, blushing. When he picked his eyes back up, he spied his therapist across the room. Dr. Oppel noticed Sherlock was not alone, and started walking over to him and his companion. She thought it odd that Sherlock would have a visitor given what she had seen of the man.

"Hello Sherlock." She stated, stopping in front of him.

"Dr. Oppel." He replied coldly.

"Are you Sherlock's therapist?" Emmaline asked her.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" She asked, intensely curious.

"Emmaline Johnson. I am Sherlock's friend." The girl smiled widely and shook Dr. Oppel's hand.

"May I speak with you for a moment?" Dr. Oppel asked, pointing to a space away from Sherlock.

"OK." Emma eyed her curiously but stood up and followed the doctor.

"Sherlock has refused to discuss anything in therapy. Do you know anything?"

"Only a little, but I think Sherlock would rather I didn't tell you. He should be the one to do that."

Dr. Oppel sighed. "You're right. You two seem close – how long have you known each other?"

"Six months." She replied after a moment of thought.

"Would you mind if I tried to get Sherlock to talk about you in therapy?" Catherine asked.

"No, not at all! If you think it will help him, absolutely."

Emmaline was not sure what talking about her would do for Sherlock, but if his therapist thought it would help him then she would give her permission freely.

"Emmaline! I've already figured out, do you want to hear it?" Sherlock called.

"Sorry, the child beckons." Emma smiled and skipped back over to her game with Sherlock.

Catherine Oppel stuck around to watch them play before heading to her office to write out notes.

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"So Sherlock, let's try this again. Is there anything in your past you would like to discuss today?" Dr. Oppel asked.

Sherlock sat in her plush office, across from her at her desk, and leaned down in his chair. They had had this conversation countless times and it was always the same.

"No." He replied forcefully.

"Alright then; what about Emmaline?"

Sherlock looked up from the floor. "What about her?" He asked.

"How did you two meet?"

The question seemed innocent enough to Sherlock.

"On a plane, from New York to London."

"Did you travel to London together?"

Sherlock smiled. "No. She was just this annoying little girl who had just lost her mother." Sherlock grinned fondly at the memory of their first meeting. He had never expected her to become so important to him.

"And what is she now?" Dr. Oppel asked.

"She is my best friend." Sherlock replied. "And I never thought I would have one of those."

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"It just, it bothers me because I know it is big. Whatever it is she will not tell me, it is huge. I know it is." Sherlock paced the length of Dr. Oppel's office.

"Why do you think her aversion to men is anything big?" Dr. Oppel asked curiously.

"Because she flinches, literally flinches from every man she comes into close contact with except for me. Except for those she has known for a long time. Those men, which she deems safe I suppose." Sherlock thought aloud.

"And why is her secret such a big deal to you?"

"Because it is a secret – and I want to know." He explained exasperatedly, flinging himself down in his chair.

"You have kept secrets from her – what about your drug use?"

Sherlock stared stoically down at the floor. His drug use had been a huge secret. And he had others still, like his father's suicide. He would have to tell her soon – he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know.

"Obviously she trusts you. You have told me of multiple instances where she initiated close contact, or did not shy away from close contact with you. I have observed you myself and she appears to trust you. If you are her friend as you have said, then you will let her tell you. You will wait for her to approach you with it."

Sherlock hunkered down in the chair, listening. He had to wait for her to tell him. Perhaps by sharing his own past she would learn it was all right to divulge hers. Sherlock would find the right time then, to tell her. He would share his worst moment with her.

"Thank you." He said standing from the chair, and leaving the office.

Dr. Oppel stared at the closed door a few moments before writing some notes in her ledger.

ᶓ

"Emmaline, thank you for meeting with me." Dr. Oppel gestured to the armchair across from her desk.

"What is this about?" Emma asked nervously.

She felt like she had been called into the Principal's office for doing something wrong.

"I just was wondering, in the interest of patient health, if you were ever planning on telling Sherlock whatever secret you have bottled up?"

Emmaline stared at the therapist, shocked. Not only had she just told her that Sherlock had discussed this with her, but she was asking her about it.

"What do you mean 'in the interest of patient health'?" Emmaline asked guardedly.

"I'm afraid this issue has Sherlock quite on edge."

Emmaline sighed. She had planned on telling him soon. Perhaps it would be easier while he was locked up at the Centre; an easier separation for the two of them. Because he would not want to be her friend anymore, once he found out. Was she prepared to lose him as a friend? If it meant he would get better, she would have done anything.

"I'll tell him soon." She promised.

"Are you sure?" Dr. Oppel asked.

"He deserves to know. He deserves to know what I come from." She answered simply, shrugging.

Emmaline stood from the chair and left the office, leaving Dr. Oppel wondering if she had done the right thing in calling the young girl in at all.

It is always our own self that we find at the end of the journey. The sooner we face that self, the better. ~~ Ella Maillart