Time Makes it Harder (JohnLock)

Something's off

(A/N Major trigger warning. Suicide-drugs)

John's POV

I walk to work in the morning, stuffing my hands in my pockets, feeling very guilty for leaving Sherlock at home. Glancing back at the flat, I stall, considering walking back, taking the day off.

He was just sleepwalking. He's ok.

I continue my walk, and get to the office, but there's a deep feeling of dread in me, and something urges me to go back to the flat, hold him tight, tell him that I love him.

But I stay seated, focusing on work, hoping that he's ok. After all, I already took several weeks off, and the bills and rent need to be paid.

Sherlock's POV

I stand from the bed, but losing my balance, falling against the wall, and sliding down.

The thoughts come back, nagging, nagging, until I can't breath, images of John on the battlefield. I tell myself over and over, 'John wasn't there, John is alive.' But it doesn't help. None of it helps. My head pounds, the lies come flooding into my brain, blocking my vision and hearing.

Standing up I stumble to the kitchen where the dining table is full of elements and old experiments.

Finding several beakers I put them in front of me and examine the contents of each. Dissolved arsenic, cyanide, aflatoxin, probably bleach by the smell of that one. Is that enough?

The voices continue to tell me that he's dead, he doesn't love you, he was killed with you in the war.

Rifling through the cabinets, desperate for something, I dump windex in one of the beakers, some bleach in another, going to the bathroom and finding some old medicine. I don't know why there's old OTC medication here, but I'm thankful. Plopping some pills into the beakers I stir and wait for them to dissolve in the chemicals.

Ripping the floorboards out from under the table, I take out the secret box that I've hid there. It's been under there for years, and I haven't opened it since I met John.

Taking out the needle, a feeling of peace comes over me and I hold it close to my skin. Breathing out, the hit immediately makes me feel more relaxed. Not even bothering the hide the box again I take the first beaker and take a big gulp.

I almost throw up, it tastes so horrible. But I drink more and more, until it's all gone and only residue is left in the bottom. My stomach revulses, but I resist and take the other beaker in my hand. Taking a drink I empty one bottle of pills into my hand. I wash it down with the chemicals and take a deep breath.

Oh my god.