Once more many thanks to Ernil i Pheriannath / Sparkypip for her beta work and feedback! Please check out her wonderful writing, too.

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Chapter 10

Day 4 in 2016

Greg's phone bleeped loudly and he opened his eyes to the darkened bedroom before reaching out for it and hitting the answer button.

"Yeah?" the inspector blurted out automatically, squinting at the bedside clock, which read 4.09am

"Lestrade?"

The DI had been fast asleep and he knew Mycroft wouldn't disturb him without a reason.

"What is it?" He was in fact quite alarmed to be called by the older Holmes and the adrenaline rush made him awake almost instantly.

Had something happened to Sherlock? Had he worsened? Or relapsed?

"I am aware that-"

"Is he okay? What happened?" Greg interrupted him.

"I'm not sure. John asked me to leave a few hours ago; apparently, Sherlock had asked him to. The doctor must have been sure he'd be able to handle my brother but things turned sour and he threw John out. Since the reason we are in this dilemma is the very fact that Dr Watson has issues asking for and accepting help I assume he hasn't called you and he is trying to handle it on his own which is currently causing for things to head south from what I am observing. Sherlock hasn't left his room – not even his bed in the past two hours.

"So, it's withdrawal at its worst at the moment?"

"No. The reason for my call is Dr Watson, actually."

"What?" Greg climbed out of his bed.

"John is neither in control of the situation nor of Sherlock's health currently. I need you to go there and take care of things. At this very moment, you are the only one equipped to do this. I fear my presence would do no one any good."

"Alright. I'll head over. Anything else I should know?"

Mycroft explained to him what had happened during the night and finished with a, "Thank you, Gregory."

Flabbergasted about being called by his first name, Greg needed a moment to answer.

"Well, have to run. Laters," he hung up and reached for his trousers.

Half an hour later the DI climbed the stairs to 221b, trying to be as silent as possible. He entered through the living room door, not wanting to spook John who had been in the kitchen for the past hours according to Mycroft.

When he peeked around the glass sliding doors, he silently knocked on the wooden frame to announce his presence.

Greg was alarmed, when the other man didn't react to his presence.

John was sitting on the floor to the left, his back leaned against one of the white cupboards. His posture screamed defeat, his legs outstretched, the left foot resting against the socket of the fridge. Between his legs, he held a half filled whiskey tumbler and the bottle was next to him on the ground. Greg feared John had consumed the missing half in the past two hours.

"John?"

The doctor jerked in surprise, blinking up at the DI who was now crouching down next to him.

"Hey, mate. How-?" Greg stopped himself. John wouldn't answer how he was and it was bloody obvious in what state he was in.

"Any news on Sherlock?" he asked instead, trying to assess John's state by letting him talk.

"How would I know? He doesn't talk to me," John slurred slightly. He didn't look as if he had emptied half the bottle. "I probably deserve it... He locked the door and won't let me in."

"Don't worry mate. It's what he's like. He won't want you to see him like this, in pain, craving and vulnerable, I suppose."

"I..."

There was just silence for a moment, in which John blinked heavily.

"John?"

"I don't know what to do. He needs something... and he won't tell me and..."

"He's probably suffering from intense cravings at the moment. That's when he locks himself in..."

Greg knew Sherlock going through withdrawal was a first for the doctor... and that it would be hard on him after the events of the past weeks. But it wasn't a first for Greg sadly. He had seen Sherlock go through this but John hadn't, not really.

After Magnussen's death and the events on the tarmac, Sherlock had vanished for withdrawal and everyone assumed he had either gone through it at Mycroft's home or in a private facility. John had been quite frustrated about being kept at a distance.

Greg also knew Sherlock had detoxed at home at least twice in the past, but that was before John. One of those times Greg had found him, and had prevented things from going really bad.

"What?... You've seen him go through this before! Jesus! Why didn't you tell me?" John stared up at him with glassy eyes, his gaze showed more than a hint of betrayal.

"Well, I... This is not a topic one talks about over a pint, mate. Was quite a difficult experience for me, too. And I imagine this is nothing Sherlock is eager to share."

"Sorry," John murmured. "I just feel a bit left out of my best friend's history. Especially if I accidentally stumble into facts that I really think someone should have told me earlier... or that I only learn after I blunder because no one bothered to include me."

"Where's Rosie?"

"In her bed," John's voice sounded chocked.

Greg understood that the other man probably needed a break to stay sane and that Sherlock was particularly difficult because he was ashamed and in a bit of a delicate state due to all the personal and confusing emotional things that had happened.

In the weeks since Mary's death Lestrade had seen Sherlock's grief and had understood that the detective had no clue how to deal with. It had been painful to see his desperate tries to be there for John fail, which put Sherlock in real distress right now on top of his self-recrimination.

Pausing for a moment Greg took in his friend's appearance, he looked worse now than the last time he had seen him, as well as guilt ridden and grieving, which was to be expected.

John had clearly lost another few pounds and his complexion seemed almost grey. The dark circles under his eyes looked almost like bruises.

"Blimey, John, when have you last slept?"

John just shook his head, emptied the glass, then picked up the open bottle and refilled the tumbler.

"I don't know what to do. He won't let me in, won't let me check him out, won't let me help him," he babbled. "I heard him making distressed noises several times over the past hours and..."

"You spent the past three nights ready to do whatever he needs, haven't you? Wasn't it Mycroft's turn last night?"

John didn't answer, just stared at the floorboards, then he raised the glass and drank another large gulp.

"Right. I think you need some sleep, mate. I will do the night shift. Come on."

"No. I need to check on him."

"Let me see him first. See how he is," Greg stated after an uneasy few seconds.

"Door is locked, although we agreed not to do that."

"Yeah, I have a key and I will go in there. Stay here, you need a break, let me take over for a while."

John was out of words too lost in misery, which Greg understood completely.

Greg stood up and headed for Sherlock's door.

As silent as possible he unlocked it.

Sherlock was on his bed, cover drawn up to his chin, even in the dim light it was clearly visible he was shaking.

Careful not to spook him, Greg stepped closer.

He found Sherlock fast asleep – curled up on his side. His features weren't relaxed, neither was his posture. The expression and the stubble once more reminded Greg of a Sherlock fifteen years younger and it horrified him.

Here they were again.

Greg was aware the nightmares and crazy dreams withdrawal caused were an issue Sherlock had always struggled with, as was the severe depression.

In this phase exhaustion and the intense cravings were quite prominent, as were a long list of other issues that made the detective miserable.

From the first time Greg had witnessed this he was quite sure Sherlock was completely out.

"Hey," he said in a soft voice, there was no reaction at all.

He watched his sleeping friend for a minute and brought a fresh glass of water from the bathroom. Before he left, he checked the room for drug paraphernalia, but only found a puddle of water next to the nightstand. He mopped it up and Sherlock didn't even stir due to the noise.

When Greg had visited Sherlock in hospital, he had assured him they would get through this, had offered his support and presence. Sherlock hadn't refused it, which made him both hopeful and worried.

Nevertheless, he also knew the severe depressions his friend would go through would be quite an issue. Sherlock would never be able to voice his suffering, and would be more likely to act physically upon his emotions, most likely ending in some form of self-harm one way or another.

Two severely depressed people in one flat trying to survive this entire ordeal - the idea had not only turned Greg's senses on high alert.

He, Mycroft, Molly and Mrs Hudson had made plans how to deal with this, and this had just left stage one of the withdrawing process.

Currently, John was the one needing more attention. Sherlock was out cold and as long as he stayed this way was not really an issue, but he would need attention at some point, fluids, nutrition and a medical assessment.

When Lestrade returned to the living room, John had moved over to the sofa, the open bottle nowhere to be seen, but the tumbler was full again.

"He's asleep," Greg reported in a low and reassuring voice. "He seems fine, but it's not the easy kind of sleep."

John took another sip of whiskey and nodded, not looking up the whole time.

"Slept a lot during the past days, and spent a lot of time in his mind palace, probably trying to figure out the cold case," he mumbled.

"How's Rosie doing?" Greg tried to guide the conversation away from Sherlock.

"Missing her mother," John said in a chocked voice and took a rather great gulp.

"Sorry… Just…" Greg was suddenly dragged into the overwhelming general sense of sorrow that was fogging the flat.

He fought it, he needed to remain the neutral point, stay strong and help them.

But it was hard - like a maelstrom trying to pull him into the dark.

"God, I didn't mean to…" John started, but the desperation remained in his voice.

"It's alright mate," Greg offered, "Did she learn something new today?" Small kids were just a great source of talking material for the new parents and he planned to use all he could to manage this crisis.

"I… I don't know," John stammered. A moment later Greg cursed inwardly because it seemed this too was the wrong topic when John started to look even more distraught.

The other man rubbed his eyes in a bid to hide his distress.

For a moment, Greg tried to desperately find another topic, then he decided there was just nothing that could soothe this existential anguish. All tries to ignore the issues would probably just end in disaster.

He had seen John in this state before, his expression hard but his composure barely present, in the days after Sherlock had jumped off the roof of Barts. He had also seen him drink like this, then.

Greg fetched a chair and sat down, then bent forward and rested a hand on John's shoulder.

"What's happening, mate?" the need to observe gone, he asked directly.

There was a long silence but finally John leaned over and just stared at the glass in his fingers.

"I..." his voice died.

"I..." he tried again.

John rubbed his face with his hands. After a moment of hesitation he continued.

"I didn't protect her. I didn't protect him... I blamed him and it forced him to protect me... and it almost killed him... and I can't lose him, too... I am such an idiot. I can understand he doesn't want me here. He's in a bad state... and he doesn't-"

"Oi! Slow down. He wants you here, John. In fact, he did this because he wants you here, it was the whole point."

The doctor covered his eyes with his free hand for a moment, then started staring at the cluttered table, but not focussing on anything.

"This is very hard for him," Greg said to kind of underline why Sherlock was behaving the way he was. "I've seen him do this before. On his own - and it almost killed him. He knew what he was getting into and I don't think he's pushing you away, he's just too miserable to let anyone to see it. The fact that he is allowing us all to be present while he goes through this is a remarkable change, even if he shuts us out for periods of time. Usually he is very opposed to having people present at all."

"He knows how dangerous this can be and he refuses my medical help nevertheless."

"Maybe the only thing he needs is not medical... maybe he just needs your friendship. Are you ready to give that to him?"

"Of course, why else would I be here?"

"I don't know, maybe because you feel guilty?... And guilt is the last thing he needs, because he is already drowning in his own guilt."

"Shit," John downed the booze in one go and went for another shot.

"When you refused to see him, it wasn't the drugs that killed him, it was the guilt, the grief, and the resulting self-loathing. It made him take more drugs than necessary to get your attention. I've never seen him hurt like this before, I don't think."

Greg stopped himself after this remark, realising it was his own anger finding its way to the surface. Anger about John blaming Sherlock for the death of this wife.

He hadn't understood this train of thought from the beginning and he still didn't.

From what he had leaned Mary's former life had sparked a backlash and had killed her, and she had expected it and even prepared videos for the two of them to make sure her demise wouldn't kill them both.

Greg himself was in fact still a bit angry at John for what he had done to his best friend. He had listened to John's and other people's accounts of what had happened in the morgue and he couldn't believe it.

At first, he thought they were somehow trying to frame John, until the doctor himself had told him what he had done. The amount of remorse had been way too little in John at that moment and about that he was still disgruntled a little, too. John had an angry side, but he had never ever beaten Sherlock in such a way he had that day. Greg had been horrified when he read the list of injuries.

"In a way this was Sherlock Holmes being suicidal," Greg tried to explain the seriousness of the situation John had not seen back then. "And I think he was well aware of what he was doing. He cared little for his own life and I gave him hell for that when I saw the state he was in. Only solved a single case, the rest of the time he cut himself off from the rest of the world. I told him not caring for himself was the worst he could do to both of you. From then on he evaded any attempts I made at making contact."

John's alarmed expression told him this was kind of new information for him. The doctor then got himself another glass of whiskey.

"How could I be this stupid, Greg?" he asked.

"Yeah, we all tried to talk some sense into you, you know that?"

"Yes. And I ignored you. Makes me an ever bigger arsehole."

"I tried to keep an eye on Sherlock, but he vanished for days, sometimes weeks, probably afraid Mycroft or I would interfere with his plans."

"You know, after I..." John's voice almost broke, "After I bashed him up... when he was in hospital, I said goodbye to him, still angry. I was probably trying to run away from what I had done." John gulped repeatedly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Maybe also because I was afraid of rejection, because I knew I bloody deserved it. What kind person does that to his best friend?" his voice broke on the last two words.

There was a long moment of silence, before he composed himself and continued.

"I am not here out of guilt, Greg, but I do feel guilty. And ashamed, more ashamed than I have ever been in my whole fucking life."

Not really knowing what to say Greg kept his silence, it was time John was getting this out. Intoxication had lowered his walls and since Greg doubted he was this honest with his therapist it was probably the best option. He was glad John was finally opening up, after months of only interacting with a mask on the surface he felt this was what was going on on the inside.

"I wrote him a note, it said 'Piss off'...I chose those words because it was actually one of the topics of the first conversations we ever had, the first day we..." John choked on his words and his eyes started to fill up.

"That was quite mean," Greg agreed in a low voice.

"I know," John bit his lips, seeming fighting tears once more. "And kicking a man on the ground is something I never thought I was capable of and I don't know how he can ever forgive me for that."

"He will. You know him. He will. It was the way to get what he wanted so he accepts it. And that is the point where we need to protect him, because it is where he doesn't understand how to do it."

"I know," the doctor said once more. "I don't recognise myself. And I can't even look into the mirror at the moment."

"Mate, sorry that I ask, but... are you talking to your therapist about that?"

The other man shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know... She's... kind of odd. Her questions and remarks are not really what I expect sometimes."

"Er, well... If you can't really trust her maybe you should get another one."

"Not that much of a choice, besides, she said she just works with another approach than most therapists do nowadays."

Greg realised John's voice was getting more impaired by the booze by now. Maybe this was another aspect, he was talking about this because his tongue had been loosened profoundly by the alcohol. This amount of opening up was out of character for John, who barely talked about feelings, especially while he was sober.

After Sherlock's death the only time Greg had seen him break down was after they had a few pints. But back then John had managed to get a grip on how much he drank before it got out of hand. But now, that self control seemed to have evaporated.

"When he arrived at my therapist's house he was so high he had problems walking. I... I examined his arm for needle marks, gripping his hand so he couldn't move away and..." John gulped down his tears, "... and he kind of... He held onto my hand as if it was a lifeline. It was... it..." John's voice broke.

"He was desperate and this was what he had been working on for weeks. He wants you back, don't keep him at a distance."

"I am not sure he does. He doesn't even look at me, Greg. He only stares at the ground. His whole body language is showing his disapproval."

"No, John. That's not true, mate. He has fallen into a behaviour pattern you just haven't seen before. He's suffering"

"What?" John looked up at him, frowning.

"When Sherlock is very depressed, hating himself to a really alarming level, and is in an overwhelmingly bad place, then he won't look at anyone."

Now, John looked at the ground, frowning.

"When I first met him... he was like that. In a very bad place. He is currently revisiting a lot of his former behaviour patterns. You just don't know them because it was before you two met. We all told you he has changed a lot since he met you. We didn't only mean things like being rude, appearing un-caring or being anti-social. It's also about self esteem and caring for himself, too. Those have become better, too."

John looked at him with a hint of disbelieve.

"There are other signs, too. When he is severely depressed or self-loathing like this, his language changes, becomes more monotone. He gets overall very silent, speaks in a muted voice. Stops making eye contact at all. His self-confidence has evaporated. He might manage to appear cocky for a few moments if he thinks he needs to, but it's just for show. Overall, this is as low as it can get. Has nothing to do with you. His ego has suffered a deadly blow and on top of that he is grieving and desperate beyond words. And he has no idea how to fix this, he's completely helpless of how to do anything right at the moment."

"I have seen him in depressed episodes before, he has them now and then... but it was nothing like this," John tried.

"No. But I saw him like this long before the two of you met, when he was in his early twenties. Not looking at me was a bad sign and I learned to be on guard as soon as this started."

"Okay," John gulped and Greg realised although he had meant to assure John this was not on him, the background knowledge was not encouraging.

"John, he loves you like a brother and he is not blaming you. The only thing you can do is open up to him again. Go back to how it has been before. Let him in again."

The doctor's face contorted and for a moment Greg feared he'd have a meltdown, but a moment later he regained his control. Though Greg was sure it would be good if he for once would let it all out.

When John went for the whiskey bottle again, the DI took it out of his reach. Then he stood up and gently took the empty glass out of John's hand.

"That's enough, mate."

John didn't fight him. It was obvious he was on the end of this tether, too.

"We need to take care of you, too. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I need to check on him," the doctor muttered.

"Alright, let's do that first, then you get some sleep. I'll take care of him," Greg said, and added '...and you' mentally.

But when John tried to get up, they found out the hard way he was barely able to stand. Greg managed to prevent a fall and heaved him back into the sofa, but it became clear John was in no state to get up the stairs, probably not even to make it to Sherlock's room.

"Jesus, John. Stay put. I'll get you some water."

Greg fetched another glass of water - this time for John - and made him drink it, though by now John was cooperating less and less.

"Come on, mate. Just lie down and take a nap," he took the empty glass from his friend and pushed him slowly sideways to make him lie down.

"Rosie..."

"Babyphone?"

"Kitchen table"

Greg fetched that too and put it on the coffetable while John sat up again and tried to get off his shoes.

A few minutes later Greg had checked on the baby, Sherlock and covered John with a blanket who had mercifully fallen into an uneasy sleep. The DI decided to wake him up in a few hours and make him drink more water. John would have a bad hangover the next morning.

When he was sure everyone was safe, he sat down on the kitchen table, unpacking his laptop to do some paperwork. It seemed to have become kind of a working place for anyone watching Sherlock. Greg had seen Molly with her laptop as well as Mycroft sitting on that table in the past week.

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A/N:

The show never explained what was on the note Molly gave Sherlock (or did I miss it?). My first thought was it must read 'Piss off' and I hoped it would be explained later, but it wasn't. So I just assumed this was on the small piece of paper.

We saw John drink in the mini episode as well as in at least one of the nights after Mary's death, that is why this chapter happened. I don't see John as an alcoholic, but the scenes show he is struggling.

I'd love to get some feedback.