One shots X Reader

Sherlock Holmes; Sherlock

TRIGGER WARNING FOR DRUG USAGE AND SELF-HARM

 The darkness stared back at you as you recounted past events. Moving in with Sherlock and John, solving cases, empathizing with clients, hiding feelings, repressing pent up emotions, fake smiling. With Sherlock and John being around, it was better. They made you feel happier than you had in years. Moriarty, bombs, the heist, the tall apartment building, the jump. A part of you died that day. The fall, the contact of body on pavement. You stared into the darkness, the scene playing out in front of you, almost like a shot film. You had never gotten the chance to tell the detective how you really felt about him, although, maybe it was a good thing. He would've never shared your feelings, he would've stared at you, eyes full of disapproval and disgust at the sign of emotions. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. The words echoed throughout your mind, Sherlock's own words. The funeral, John moving out, Sherlock's empty chair...... alone. You were completely and utterly alone. John never called, maybe because you made it seem like you were okay. Mrs. Hudson visited you sometimes, but she too couldn't bear the sight of the apartment without Sherlock in it. They all left you, which of course was nothing new. It happened to you all the time. Everyone you loved eventually left you, whether that be your parents kicking you out because of drug use, your friends forgetting about you once they found their significant others, and now, the two people who you dared to love once again up and left, left you alone, sitting on Sherlock's cold, empty bed.

You started out into the cold, dark abyss and felt for the metal box. Your fingers caressed the box, instantly chilled. Three years. That's how long you had been clean. You hadn't touched alcohol or drugs since then, mainly because self-harm did the trick. Were you willing to throw that all away now? Yes. The voice in your head goaded. Nobody even cared that you were clean. The voice spat, full of loathing. And, why would they? It questioned. You're not special, no one will ever love someone like you, a failure. You've corrupted your body with scars, made yourself even uglier than you already were. You've- Shutting out the voice in your head you slowly opened the box. Inside was a pill and a syringe. Valium and ketamine. So, you did keep a stash. The voice said. Take them, embrace the numbness. You picked up the pill. Do it, relieve yourself. You needed to be numb, numb from the pain, the emotions. You brought the pill to your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you put it in your mouth. You moved it around your mouth until it finally settled under your tongue. You rested your head against the bedframe and waited as the pill slowly dissolved. The voice was gone now, satisfied with what you were doing to yourself. Turning up your music, you waited. Five songs played before you felt it. You sighed deeply as the feeling of euphoria washed over you. It was a nice feeling, but not the one you wanted. The next song that came on was Seven Nation Army. You smiled as the music washed over you. No, keep going, this wasn't what you wanted: happiness. The voice hissed in your ear. You don't deserve happiness, you pathetic cunt. The voice screamed now. You reached into the box once more to pick up the syringe.

You turned it over in your hand, feeling like you had reunited with an old friend. The song ended when you stabbed the needle into your fleshy thigh, not bothering to figure out what dose you needed. You pulled the plunger back on instinct, even though it was too dark to see if there was any blood in the syringe. You didn't care if there was or not. You depressed the syringe, shooting the liquid into your body. A few minutes passed before you finally felt it. Staring into the darkness, time seemed to slow down, seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. You sighed deeply, relishing in the feeling of nothing, no emotions, no pain. You tilted your head back slightly as You by Breaking Benjamin came on. Concentrating on the music, you let everything else slip away.