Marriage and Mental Illness (Sequel to Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles)

Eat, Please

John's POV

Sherlock had thrown himself into the case with a newfound sense of motivation from the situation with Alice and Olivia. It had been four days since the beginning of the stalking, four full days since the lives of two teenage girls were turned upside down. The policemen and agents had spotted him six times, but each time, he disappeared within seconds.

They'd gotten a bit more description of him, the face tattoo was red and black, but the shape had been indistinguishable. Sherlock was incredibly frustrated by it and was currently pacing the room. I was sitting in my chair, updating my blog.

I glanced up at the muttering, raving man who was pacing the room and shut my laptop. "Sherlock." He didn't even glance in my direction and continued on whatever tangent his mind was spiraling in. "Sherlock," I said again, louder.

His eyes caught mine, catching me off guard. They were wide, red, watery, and not from crying. From exhaustion. He'd come to bed late every night and was already up when I awoke in the morning. He hadn't truly slept in four days, hadn't eaten much either. I'd forced him to eat dinner yesterday, which he'd barely even picked at.His figure was beginning to go back to gaunt, face pale enough to be translucent.

"Sherlock," I whispered. He blinked at me, not responding. I raised an eyebrow and he sighed, exasperated.

"What, John?" Never had I heard him sound so agitated, so angry. It took me a minute to process his sour attitude.

"What are you going on about?" I asked gently, standing from my position. Not missing a beat, he responded.

"Last time they'd appeared, Greg and his team had narrowed their location down to an area of a one-mile radius. Last time, they'd disappeared at that moment, so they were never able to figure out where they were. They've been searching the area again, and nothing. I've even reached out to my homeless network, nothing in that area. They've moved, meaning it's a new start. We're exactly where they want us to be, not a step closer, not a step behind. This is planned, down to what day we discovered what. We're trapped where they want us. Flies in a spider web."

I was standing right in front of him now and carefully placed one hand on his arm. "When did you reach out to your network?" It took time to do that, not just sending a text. He hadn't done it in my waking hours of the last four days, and certainly not before then.

"Last night, when you were sleeping," he didn't even think anything of it. I wrapped my other arm around his waist, stroking his back.

"How late were you up?" He didn't wait, instead, he simply shrugged.

"Sherlock, you can't do that, you need to take care of yourself. You-" Sherlock's phone buzzed, and his hand reached to grab it. "It can wait, Sherlock."

He grabbed it, not listening to a word I was saying. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. He read through his phone for a moment, "It's the lab results from the unidentified fiber found on the Quran. Are you coming with me or no?"

I stared at him, incredulous. I drew away from him, crossing my arms. "What the hell has gotten into you?" He shrugged and grabbed his coat.

"The fact that two people that are important to me are in imminent danger at all hours of the day until we catch him. Are you coming with me or not?"

I grabbed my coat as well but pulled him to a stop. "You've got twenty minutes in the lab before I'm dragging you home for food and rest. I will drag you by your goddamn hair if I have to." He nodded, conceding. I followed him out to a cab, staying silent throughout the ride.

Molly already had the results ready for him when we got there. He began searching through the papers without so much as a hello. Molly gave me a quizzical look about his behavior, he usually at least offered a simple, 'hello.'