This is my take on an alternate scene in The Lying Detective if John had not beaten up Sherlock and had taken a more sympathetic approach.
This is also my first time writing and publishing. I've read many good hurt/comfort fics about the relationship between John and Sherlock, but I haven't seen anything related to this scene.
I do not own Sherlock or its characters.
Sherlock's breathing quickens as he assesses the scene in front of him. "I saw you take it! I saw you!" His eyes blink quickly. John had seen him in this state before but still could not have predicted what would happen next.
Suddenly, Sherlock points at Culverton Smith, the scalpel in his hand. His hand trembles, and his breathing is labored.
"Whoa, Sherlock. Do you want to put that down?" John reaches a hand out to his friend, eyeing him with concern. Sherlock's own mind had betrayed him. He had stated something he saw and had been wrong, which was certainly not usual for Sherlock, though of course he was on drugs.
Sherlock shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, blocking out Smith's face, this room, the lights, and everything. It was all too much, and Sherlock could feel the room sway dramatically. John continued to eye him with concern, slowly approaching, knowing Sherlock was not stable at the moment.
"Sherlock." John tries again, hoping his friend might at least look at him. "Sherlock look at -"
Sherlock suddenly spins around and faces John, scalpel still outstretched in his right hand. John puts his arms up in surrender. Sherlock is not thinking straight and John is more than a bit worried about what he might do with the scalpel. "Sherlock, put the scalpel down. Now."
Sherlock's pupils are dilated, and he looks lost as he looks at John, his hand still shaking. He glances down at his hand and then back up at the man in front of him. Suddenly, something shifts in his face, and he drops the scalpel, which clatters as it hits the ground, the sound echoing in Sherlock's mind.
Sherlock stumbles slightly and John instinctively rushes forward steadying him. "Sherlock, you alright?" John's voice is laced with concern as he looks Sherlock up and down. His breathing is still too fast as is his pulse. The shaking has not subsided and he watches as Sherlock brings a hand up to his face, covering his eyes. John leads Sherlock over to the edge of the room and Sherlock immediatly leans against the cold metal wall. John eyes the other occupants of the room. "All of you out. Now, please." John looks at Smith and Faith sternly and they hesitantly leave the room.
Sherlock slides down the wall slowly, coming to a rest with his knees up and his head bowed slightly between them. John slides down next to him and gives him a moment before speaking.
"Sherlock, what is going on? You just completely lost it and almost hurt a man." John looks at his friend but Sherlock's eyes remain fixed on the floor. "Sherlock, look at me."
When Sherlock responds, it's in a shaky voice that sounds most unlike the arrogant and calculated detective. "I don't know," he takes a breath, "John, help me." The last bit comes out sounding a bit more desperate than Sherlock had hoped. Slowly, Sherlock raises his head to look at John, his eyes full of fear and uncertainty.
John carefully places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder in an attempt to ground him. "I'm here, Sherlock. What do you need?" He studies his friend closely and is surprised to see some wetness in those pale eyes.
"John, I'm falling apart, and I don't know how to stop. As if the drugs aren't doing enough damage, I can't even trust my own mind. I swear to you, Faith was at Baker Street. John, I swear it!" Sherlock's voice gets louder, and the tremors heighten. John grips his shoulder tighter now, unsure of what to do with this admission.
"Ok, Sherlock, just slow down, ok? I don't think you're losing it, and I have complete faith that you will solve this, but you need to calm down."
Sherlock drops his head into his hands once more. His shoulders begin to shake slightly, and John can see his tears as they fall and hit the floor. John had seen Sherlock in emotional states before, but not like this, never like this. Sherlock was completely breaking down in front of him, and he had no idea how to help. But he had to try.
"You okay, Sherlock?" John gently turns Sherlock around so they are facing each other before wrapping his arm around the detective. To his surprise, Sherlock leans into this embrace, his head resting on John's shoulder as he continues to cry. "It's okay, you've been dealing with too much for far too long." John gently rubs Sherlock's back, stunned at the physical contact that Sherlock was allowing.
"John, I don't deserve this", it's almost a whisper and John barely heard the words.
" Hmm?"
"John, I killed your wife. I don't deserve this," Sherlock rephrases, adding context. John shuts his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.
"Sherlock, you did not kill Mary. She chose to jump in front of that bullet and there was nothing you, or I, could have done to stop her."
Suddenly, Lestrade bursts into the room, and John and Sherlock's eyes snap to him. "What's going on here? Sherlock, did you attack Culverton Smith?"
Sherlock's eyes widen, but he doesn't answer. Instead, it's John who speaks: "Greg, could you give us a minute?" Lestrade nods and leaves slowly, eyeing them warily.
"Alright, Sherlock, I'm going to speak to Lestrade and straighten this out. You alright now?" John looks over at Sherlock, whose head is now leaned back against the wall, his eyes shut. At least the trembling has slowed down for now. He breathes out slowly.
"Not good." He opens his eyes and glances over at John and John sees the pain, not just mental but also physical.
"Alright, let me examine you." It's not really a choice, and Sherlock knows this, nodding slightly. John grabs his wrist gently and feels his pulse: erratic. He puts a hand to Sherlock's forehead: elevated temperature, excessive sweating. He pushes back some of Sherlock's curls with affection. "Sherlock..."
Sherlock groans slightly as the adrenaline wears off and he can feel the damage the drugs have done to him. Molly's assessment had been right; there were healthier bodies on the slab.
"Try to breathe, alright? Can you do that for me? I'll be right back." John squeezes Sherlock's hand before getting up and walking out the door to where Lestrade is waiting.
"What's wrong with him?" Lestrade looks through the window on the door with concern. John sighs.
"Drugs." John looks pointedly at Lestrade, and Lestrade knows what he means. "He'll need to be admitted overnight and watched. Who knows how long he's been...well, you know."
"And mentally?" Lestrade glances at John, and what he sees in John's eyes tells him all he needs to know. "Right, I'll find someone to come and get him." John nods before heading back into the morgue. John approaches Sherlock and notices that he is already looking a bit more collected.
"Alright?" Sherlock looks up at John and nods slightly. It would be a while before he was truly alright, but for now this was the best he could do. "You're going to have to stay here overnight, they'll have you feeling better soon." Sherlock looked away at this. John knew Sherlock didn't like this, but it was the only way to make sure he'd be looked after. John offers a hand to Sherlock and he takes it, standing up from the floor with effort.
Just then, Lestrade walks back in with a nurse who waits at the door as John and Sherlock make their way over, John watching Sherlock closely. The fact that he was even agreeing to this spoke volumes to his physical health.
After making sure Sherlock gets to his room safely John finally lets out his breath. He leaves and heads to Baker Street without a single thought. As he walks up the stairs and takes in the surroundings he suddenly realises where he is. Home. Or at least it was. John had not lived at Baker Street for a while now but for some reason tonight he had seeked out it's comfort.
"Sherlock? Is that you?" Mrs. Hudson calls out from downstairs and John listens as she walks up the creaky steps and into 221B. "Oh!" She jumps in surprise at the sight of John. "Where's Sherlock? Didn't expect to see you here."
John sighs and sinks into his chair before answering. "He's in hospital...he had a bit of a breakdown."
Mrs. Hudson frowns and shakes her head. "Well he is always so emotional that one." She continues about tidying up the kitchen.
John looks at her, his face confused. "Well, no." Sherlock was calculating and cold and strategic but emotional? John wouldn't use that word to descibe his friend.
Mrs Hudson chuckles. "Oh yes he is! Here maybe you can figure out what had him all upset. He's been like this ever since he saw this." Mrs. Hudson hands him a CD. On it are the words "Miss Me?" just like the message Moriarty had left. It couldn't possibly be though...
John starts the video and upon seeing Mary's face he has to look away for a second to regain his composure. He had not been expecting this. As the message plays, John slowly realises what Sherlock was doing to himself. "Save John Watson," the video concludes and all John can do is stare at the screen.
"Oh, god," John jumps up from his chair and rushes to put on his coat. He hurtles down the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson calls out as he passes her door "John? Where are you going, it's late!"
John stops and looks at her, " I'm going to save Sherlock Holmes." He continues out the door and waves down a taxi. He jumps in and anxiously taps his leg as he gives the address of the hospital.
