Drug buddies

Chapter one: Thank you for the venom.

"Sherlock..." John stutters. A drugged up Sherlock Holmes freezes for a second, realising that his best friend has just found him in a drugs den with a shot of morphine in his arm. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, then turns over. "Sherlock, wh-what are you doing here?" He can't help by to stare at his friends disappointed face. "This is the second time this week... You promised you'd stopped..." John looks close to tears, and Sherlock does the only thing he can.

"It's for a uh, a case." He quickly stutters out. John shakes his head and tries to lift Sherlock up. When he is standing the world spins, making him unsteady on his feet. John looks at him, trying to find what drug he is on. "Morphine... It's morphine." If Sherlock wasn't high he would be close to tears, but the morphine does the same thing it usually does. It numbs him. You see, Sherlock was always the one with the feelings. The weakness. Mycroft always teased Sherlock about how he cared. How he wept when Redbeard died. Mycroft would always tease his little baby brother about how stupid he is, how emotional he is. Well, that was until Sherlock was about 17. That's when he moved on from self-loathing, to self-harm, to drugs. His 'special big brother' noticed the immediate change in his actions, his face. As soon as he came home the first day, Mycroft just sighed and told him to stop. Of course, Sherlock didn't listen to him. It started with weed, then onto cocaine. Eventually Sherlock moved onto morphine, spending days in drug-houses. His habits became daily, and eventually Sherlocks mother and father took action. They sent him to an institution, where they had to trap him in a padded cell until he calmed down... It took 7 months. When Sherlock finally left, he went straight back to it. This time, he was a lot more careful. He would take cocaine after the morphine, slightly subduing the effects. When he left home to live in London, it became a monthly habit again. Since John has married and moved in with Mary... It's now moved to weekly. Mrs Hudson has called John many times to retrieve Sherlock from the local drug house.

"I'm not the only genius down here who does drugs." Sherlock mutters. John looks at him angrily, obviously agitated. John watches him steady himself, then takes his arm.

"You are going to stop this. You are going to stop this right now, you hear me? This is going to be the last time I ever come back to a place like this to find you. I didn't want you to come back from the dead to end up like..." John pauses, not wanting to hurt Sherlock. "Who is the other genius down here." The grip on Sherlocks arm tightens, but Johns face stays calm. Sherlock looks around, trying to find the mess of black hair. His arm slowly moves up, pointing at the musician. John shakes him, then helps him up.

"What the fuck do you want?" The deep voice says. "I was trying to fucking sleep." It's obvious that this man is drunk and high on weed. "Where he fuck are we going."

"You are coming with us, I'm taking you home. Ok?" John says. "And you will not swear again, or I will sprain your arm." John walks out, waiting for the two men to follow him. He sits outside, waiting for Mary, with his head in his hands. It's obvious that he is close to tears, but the ex-soldier holds it in. Mary's car comes around the corner and John stands up. He takes a few deep breaths and leads Sherlock and the black haired man into the car.

"Who is this other guy?" Mary asks. John just dismisses the question. "Where do you live?"

"I live in fucking America, bitch." As soon as he says bitch John gets back out the car and grabs his arm, ready to throw him out. The mans arms go up, surrendering. "I'm fucking sorry, didn't realise she's your girl. Thought she was your sister or some shit." Sherlock laughs a little, but quietly. "I'm staying in a hotel, not far from here. It's uh..." The man thinks for a while "Lagham... Langham!" Mary looks surprised and looks back, unsure if the dirty man is lying, but still waits for John to get back in. As soon as he does, she pulls away from the abandoned building and starts driving away.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"This man says that he is staying here..." John says awkwardly. The receptionist looks the man up and down, seeing the red marks around his eyes and smelling weed.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't believe this man-" he is cut off by a younger voice, but it was slightly deeper than the drugged up man.

"Where the fuck have you been." It cracks a little, obvious that he is as close to crying as John was. "I've been looking everywhere for you..." All the colour drains from the mans face, the red around his eyes growing. John and Mary turn, seeing a younger boy with brown hair, some covering one eye. The druggie turns too, and the brown haired man gasps a little.

"M-mikey..." The dirty man stutters. 'Mikey' grows angry, and tries to run upstairs, but the man grabs him before he can. "I'm really sorry, you don't-"

"I do fucking understand." Mikey says calmly. "You can't keep doing this to me, Gerard. Frank has been worried sick. Rays out on the streets looking for you. Bob isn't talking. You can't keep doing this." Gerard's eyes search the floor, as if he looked long enough the problem would solve itself. "We have a concert tonight, go upstairs and get yourself ready. Do you know what songs we are singing, or are you too high to remember."

Gerard barely whispers, but John catches it. "I'm not ok, Helena, the ghost of you, give them hell kid and it's not a fashion statement it's a fucking deathwish." Mikey nods twice.

"I'll go search for Ray, you go talk to Frank and Bob. If things get heated, just call me." John looks up, realising that these people are band members.

"I'll help you look for ray, if you want." John mutters. Mikey looks up at him, his eyes holding more hope. He walks out, expecting John to follow him.

"Thanks, if we get mobbed or something I'm sorry." John looks at him confused, not really understanding what is being said. "I'm in a band. We are preforming in about 3 hours, so I think some fans will be wandering the streets."

John follows him into the cold London streets, leaving Mary to get Sherlock home. The darkness of London night engulfs him and after a minute or so he disappears from the hotel view.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

WOW I AM SUCH FAN TRASH LIKE A SHERLOCK/MCR CROSS OVER, PLEASE SEND ME HELP

YEAH SO STUFF HAS GONE DOWN, YAY.