Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty Eight - The Aches They Leave

A/N: Did I mention that I was sorry? Trigger warnings for domestic violence, drug abuse and tons of suicidal ideation. (sorry (sorry sorry))

 John

John woke up to a buzz from his phone, hidden it under his pillowcase; Harry had work and Pickard was with his mum, so he reached, relatively safe from getting caught.

It was... "Shezza Holmes." John chuckled softly - fucking eleven at night and Sherlock wanted to talk. John opened the text, smiling from it all.

We can't see each other anymore. -SH

John blinked at the text in confusion, clenching his fists slightly and then opening them. The moonlight streaming in through the window highlighted another text, which John was afraid to open. John quickly typed out a response, praying that it was all some hilarious prank.

You're kidding, right? -JW

The reply was instantaneous.

I'm not safe. -SH

Of course you are, Sherlock, what's happened? -JW

I've just used it all up. -SH

You've used all what up? What does this have to do with us? -JW

John breathed deeply as he waited for Sherlock's answer. He felt like his heart was going to swallow him whole; like it was taunting him.

The heroin, John, I took it all. -SH

He stared at his screen, not noticing his pulse increase in pace and volume. It mocked him. It said, "See how alive I am?" He hated it, because it still provided him with the proof that he was, in fact, awake. This wasn't a hallucination; it was real, and John felt a moan bubble behind his lips before he threw his pillow at the wall as if it had a heartbeat. Like a pillow could feel.

Now WHY IN THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT? -JW

John shook, kneading his index fingers into his sweating temples. He rubbed his nose, whispering, "Why, why, why, why," and ten minutes later the response came.

Because I needed to stop feeling. -SH

John stared at the text for a moment before opening up the next one.

I've decided that sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. You should leave me now, so you don't have to later. -SH

I won't leave you, Sherlock, what the /hell/ are you on about? -JW

I mean that I might leave first. -SH

Don't say that. -JW

Ever. -JW

What's happening? Do you need to call me? Your crypticism is worrying me and I'm not sure if you're okay. -JW

Sherlock. -JW

Have you hurt yourself? Tell me you haven't. -JW

SHERLOCK, I SWEAR. -JW

Sherlock, please answer. -JW

John angrily slammed down on the keyboard with his thumbs, waiting for a response like his life depended on it. The way he felt right then was like nothing else, and his heart rose into his mouth as the minutes passed and passed, drawing out the pain.

Hello? Sherlock, stay with me. -JW

I can't talk to you anymore, John. I'm just making you as fucked as I am. -SH