"John!"
John Watson folds the paper. He eases out of his chair in the kitchen and heads into Sherlock's bedroom.
"What is it now?" John asks.
"Let me go, I'm going to vomit."
"You haven't eaten anything solid in two weeks. You'll be fine."
Sherlock glares from where John has him bound to the bed.
"This is what you get for going back to drugs, Sherlock," John sits on the edge of the mattress.
Sherlock gags and mimicks retching, but again, has eaten nothing to even possibly reguritate in weeks. It's just been drugs. According to the list he left behind, a combination of heroin and benzos. Xanax, John later discovered, by the bottle hidden in Sherlock's usual spot in his sock drawer.
It's obvious, the heroin. The shaking and sweating tell John that much. The reason he had to bind Sherlock was because of the scratching. Red welts still reside underneath the bandages Dr. Watson has wrapped around Sherlock's forearms.
John reaches up, brushing sweaty brunette locks from Sherlock's forehead.
"Christ, you're burning up," John mutters.
"I-I knew something was wrong," Sherlock rambles. "I don't feel good. You should have taken me down slowly, John."
"And if you know what's good for you, this will teach you not to take them ever again, then I won't have to bring you down slowly."
"John," Sherlock whines.
John goes back to the freezer. He piles the ice packs in his arms. He returns to Sherlock's side, laying them around. He sticks one under the arch of Sherlock's back.
"John," Sherlock gasps. "Don't leave."
John sighs. He can't say no. John crawls onto the bed next to Sherlock, laying Sherlock's head against his stomach.
"J-John," Sherlock gasps through a whole-body tremor.
John combs his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "You can get through this."
"I feel like I'm dying."
"Then learn to stay away from the drugs."
"I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."
That causes John Watson to pause. He looks down at Sherlock, eyes closed over those brilliant frozen blue eyes. His pale lips start quivering. It takes a moment for the vibration to take over Sherlock's whole body.
"You aren't losing me, Sherlock. You're my best mate."
Sherlock throws his head back and forth. "You are slipping out of my hands, John. I'm going to lose you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Girls! John. You're going to abandon me for a partner one day. I know it. I don't like partners. I like you, John. Only you. I can't lose you. That's unfair."
"Sherlock—"
"I love you, John," Sherlock trembles. "I love you so much, it's killing me to lose you. Every time you get upset at me, I fear that you're never going to come home. John, I can't have that."
"Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere."
"You will, one day. At some point, everyone leaves and doesn't come back. You've been my longest relationship, John. I can't have you abandoning me too. I love you so bloody much."
"I haven't stuck around this long for nothing."
"This isn't some ploy because I know I'm insufferable, John. I don't deliberately get under people's skin. It just happens. I know I'm irritating, John. But I don't want to push you away."
"The only thing that pushes me away is you using drugs. I don't like that you do that. It's dangerous and reckless. It could kill you and where would that leave me?"
"What do you mean, John?"
"If you die, I die too. I couldn't live without you, Sherlock Holmes. You're annoying and irritating and insufferable, yes, but you're my best mate. I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."
Tears drop down Sherlock's cheek. John chases them away with the sleeve of his jumper.
"J-John?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love me too?"
John runs his tongue along his lower lip. "Yes, I think so, Sherlock."
"John, John, John."
"Yes? Christ."
"I love you so much, John. If you leave me, I'll die too. I need you, John. You complete me. You make me feel so whole. Like I'm not just a freak or a buffoon, but someone worth being alive."
John runs his knuckles over Sherlock's deadly sharp cheekbones. "Of course you're worthy of being alive. This world would be in chaos without you."
"John, I love you."
"Where is this attitude the rest of the time? This is new."
"Sobering thoughts, John. Sobering up thoughts. They're very real. I don't have the ability to stop myself."
Sherlock rolls away to cough. John rubs his back.