Chapter 5 – Passing Time

~~~ Six Months Later ~~~

The cell door opened loudly, letting in a stream of light that hurt my tired eyes. A figure walked into the room that I failed to recognise due to the blinding light behind him.
"Come on Sherlock. Get up." The memories of the previous night came flooding back although there were frequent gaps - However I now know who it is…
"Ah, Lestrade. Am I allowed to go now?" I said with a grin.
"Don't give me that. Get up."

I sighed with frustration as I pulled myself off the bench and towards the door. "Could I borrow a phone for the taxi? I think I lost mine yesterday…" We walked down to the reception and I collect my belongings; shoes and my watch… I must have left my coat at home…
"You're not going home Sherlock."
I looked up at the DI with confusion. "What do you mean I'm not going home? Of course I'm going home, where else would I go?"
He averted his eyes away from me and answered after a sigh. "Your brother called me, he has everything organised and there's a car outside."
I shook my head in disbelief; I knew where this was going and I didn't like it – not one bit.
"No… you didn't… how could you? Why are you doing this? It has nothing to do with you!"
"It's breaking the law Sherlock it has everything to do with me!"
"No it isn't, I was experimenting!"
"That was the excuse last time, and the time before that and the time be-"
"Because it's the truth!"
"No Sherlock, its drugs. This is the sixth time this month that you've been either caught in possession or taken to hospital! You need help Sherlock, whether you want it or not. Now go outside and get in that car, and don't try anything funny because you won't get far."

I glared at him and turned away, walking out of the building. Sure enough the car was there to take me away – a couple guards stood either side so I couldn't run if I tried. My brother organised this for me, despite the fact we have barely spoken in six months. I hated him even more.

~~~ Three Weeks Later ~~~

I sat across from the woman with the clipboard. She was my 'therapist' with a tiny IQ which made our meetings extra frustrating. What made things even worse was that I didn't want a therapist or a "cosy room all to myself that I could sit and read my books in". No. I wanted out of this boring white walled building and back home.

"So, will you talk to me now Mr Holmes?"
There she goes again. Why does everyone insist on talking to me about 'my feelings'?
"Mr Holmes, you're ignoring me"
"I'm glad you've finally caught on" I muttered.
"You will need to talk at some point"
"You will need to understand that I won't"

This had been the foundations of our meetings for the last three weeks. I refuse to talk to someone about something so minor. Yes I understand that some people think it's stupid… but then again they've never tried it. It helps to slow things down. It helps to relax my busy mind. It is a distraction from the lack of anything interesting. I wouldn't tell them that because I know they will want to offer other ways to occupy my time. But they don't understand. They think they are asking all the right questions but I won't crack.

"Mr Holmes. Tell me about John."

There she goes again with the stupid quest- Wait what? I looked up at her trying to suppress any emotion from my facial expression. I must have misheard her.

"John Watson? He was your flatmate and colleague for two years."

I hadn't misheard. Why would she ask about him? "Yes I remember him. He died over a year ago. How is he relevant?"

"It seems..." She said looking through what was presumably my file. "Well it seems that the last time you were put into rehabilitation was not long before you met him. In fact it was nearly two months after you were discharged that he became your flatmate…"

"That still doesn't explain why he is relevant."

She looked at me for a moment, clearly feeling a bit frustrated due to my tone and my lack of cooperation since our first session. But I wasn't here to make friends.

"Well if anyone was to look at this they would think that this relapse has been because… of him…"

I was getting angry now. How dare she bring him up and then suggest… that! This was the man I had failed to save. I had tried to move on and found myself bored and in need of a hobby – no matter how… recreational. I had moved on from John Watson. I had no reason to cling onto his name or his memory. He is symbol of my failure and so I keep him in my head only as a reminder of how I failed. Any other interpretations were simply ludicrous.

"You think I have started taking drugs because of a man who died over a year ago?"

"I think he was a contributing factor, yes"

"No. He's dead. People die. It happens. It's part of my job for god's sake…"

"Someone close dying isn't an everyday thing Mr Holmes. His death could-"

"Look people die. That's what people do!" I shuddered slightly at the words that had echoed from my first meeting with the Spider and drew in a deep breath. "He is nothing to do with any of this. Like I said before; I was bored."

She nodded and wrote brief notes onto her clipboard before looking up to me again. "So… Mr Holmes, how would you normally occupy your time so you aren't… bored?"

I thought for a moment and let my lips curl into a smile. "A case."

~~~Three months later~~~

I smiled proudly at Lestrade as the car drove off, taking the Kensington Killer with it. It was a simple conclusion to come to – even Anderson would be able to- No that's taking it too far...

"Good work Sherlock… But how did you know?" Lestrade was leaning against his own car, phone in his hand and the look of astonishment which had not quite faded from his expression.

"Her shoes – They were caked in mud, yet there was a layer of dried mud behind it. The consistency of the mud didn't quite match any you'd find in London so she must have been in the countryside and driven back here post mortem. Once I had that it was easier enough to realise the connection to the house – who would go to all of that effort if the house wasn't a part of it?"

"Brilliant! That's ju-…" He looked down as his phone pinged and grinned at the screen.

I frowned at him trying to figure out what had him distracted. "Your wife?"

He looked up after tapping out a response to the text. "Hm? Oh no… my fianceé… I divorced Helen a while ago…"

I smiled at the man. "Congratulations, to you and miss..?"

"Kalia. She's been working with me since you…" He cleared his throat, obviously realising that he had struck a 'sensitive' topic. I wasn't bothered by it though. I nodded in response.

"Yes… well congratulations…" A thought hit my mind. "Although you know that she…"

"No Sherlock, that's enough deductions for today!" He chuckled. "You want me to give you a lift home?"

"Yes… wait no, no I'm not going home…"

"What? Why not?"

I looked down at my shoes for a moment and sighed. "Just visiting… someone… a friend… I'll just take a cab, I'll be fine"

"Alright then… um Sherlock, are you doing okay?"

"Yes of course I am"

"It's just it's only been a week that you've been home"

"I'm fine Gavin… wait no… Greg?"

He rolled his eyes at me and laughed. "Well that's a first! Think you'll remember it next time?"

"Probably not…"

His phone buzzed again and he scanned the screen. "I've got to go… I'll see you soon"

I nodded and turned towards the direction of the main road, hailing a cab and climbing into the back. "Chiswick cemetery." I ordered and watched out of the window as we joined the swarm of London's rush hour.

My life can go on as per usual, however it must continue without John Watson. I think I'm getting the hang of it all now.

(A/N) Hey! Hope you're enjoying this so far! Apologies for the wait, I had planned to finish before I published this however some friends encouraged me to post it. Unfortunately I'll be on a bit of a hiatus due to exams next week onwards and my current case of writers block. But hopefully I'll soon be in the mood for procrastination and post another chapter ASAP! But thank you all for reading, following, adding to favourites, and reviewing! Keep them coming I'd love your feedback! ~ astudyinredbeard