Sherlock

V

"I'm afraid I don't have much in the fridge," I said.

He hummed as an answer and I started opening the cupboards, "we could just order something, I know a lovely Chinese place."

I bit my lip and looked at him, "I think something home-cooked would do you good."

He hummed again.

"Sherlock," he looked up, "I need to know what you've taken. I need to know how... how bad it is."

"I'll be okay," he said.

"Well, sorry if I don't take your word for it," I looked him up and down again. He really did look terrible, his cheekbones were sticking out even more than usual and he had stubbles around and beneath his nose and mouth. His skin seemed unclear and rough. He was paler than usual and his eyes seemed glassy, besides the dilated pupils.

He sighed and reached into his pocket. In his hand was a folded note and when I opened it and looked I was overwhelmed. Cocaine, morphine, heroin, molly, nicotine, names of drugs I'd never even heard of. Cocaine and morphine both appeared at least three times. My heart was beating fast and loud again and the shallow breathing was back too.

"Please keep in mind that I took this over the course of three months," he said and I looked at him again. His hands were shaking now, presumably from withdrawal.

"This is a lot," I said, surprised by the sturdiness of my voice.

"I really am starving," he told me.

"Your brother needs to see this list," I looked at him worryingly.

He sighed, "I made the list for Mycroft, I'll give it to him eventually. Now can we please get something to eat?"

I had to force myself to lay the note in his outstretched hand. He folded it neatly and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Okay, food," I mumbled to myself. I grabbed my wallet and headed for the door. "Come on," I looked at Sherlock expectantly and he furrowed his brows at me.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Grocery shopping," I opened the door.

"I think I can manage being alone while you're at the store," he almost sneered.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that," I told him sternly, "and my only other option is calling Mycroft."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "fine."

The whole walk he seemed distracted and distant. His hands were still shaking and he kept sighing and breathing deeply.

"In need of a fix?" I sneered mockingly, regretting it immediately.

"I'm fine," he sneered back.

As we arrived at the grocery store I quickly steered towards the green's section. I picked up various different vegetables while glancing at Sherlock every now and then. He was still breathing heavily and he kept blinking rapidly.

We were in and out of there quickly and Sherlock seemed grateful for that. I could sense on him the busy and noisy environment of a grocery store wasn't exactly ideal for him. He walked quickly the first part of the walk, and when we were about halfway he stopped to pull out a pack of cigarettes. I stopped and sighed, waiting for him to light it. After a few drags he seemed somewhat more relaxed, though his hands were still shaking.

By the time we reached my flat his cigarette was gone.

I was reaching for my keys when he started talking, "I'm sorry about before. I overstepped your boundaries and shouldn't have." I could tell it was hard for him, which only made the apology seem more valuable and sincere.

"It's okay, don't think about," I offered him a smile and unlocked the door.

I made Sherlock help me with the cooking to speed up the process. It didn't take long till the food was on the table.

Sherlock was eating it happily and I looked at him with a smile.It was nice to take care of another person. "Do you like it?" I asked him.

"It would be better with pasta," he simply stated as he continued eating.

"There's a lot of carbs in pasta," I answered and put a mouthful in my mouth.

He stopped eating and looked at me, "are you on a diet or something?"

I laughed slightly, "no."

"Why are you laughing?" he furrowed his brows.

"I just," I chuckled and shook my head, "I would never go on a diet."

He looked confused, so I decided to answer his question before he asked it, "I'm against diet culture."

Now it was his time to chuckle and shake his head. I decided to let it go and not get into that discussion.

"What's been going on at the yard while I've been away?" he asked.

"Nothing of interest. Small cases, missing kids, muggings. I think everyone's twitching for something big," I smiled and glanced to him. He seemed to be in deep thought again. His hands were against each other, resting under his chin.

"Are you finished?" I asked him.

His head shot up and at first he looked confused until his face softened and he smiled, "yes. Thank you, it was delicious."

I smiled and took our plates to the sink to wash them. I placed the leftovers in the fridge and when I was done, I looked over to Sherlock who hadn't moved.

I shook my head, but decided to leave it. I sat down on my couch, not knowing what to do. For a while I just stared at the wall, thinking. I don't know how long I sat there, but the next thing I remember was Sherlock suddenly standing from his chair, the scraping sound echoing.

"Sherlock?" I asked, worried about his sudden movement and heavy breathing.

"I'm fine," he said waving his hand.

I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He looked at me with furrowed brows and I noticed his eyes were twitching slightly. I guided him to the couch and he sat down.

"Breath in," I heard him take in a deep breath, "hold it," no sound, "breath out." I said this to him a few times and his stomach rose and sank with my words. His hands were shaking and his face scrunched up in pain. "Relax, Sherlock," I told him as I laid my hand on his back, "you'll be okay soon."

I could feel his heartbeat on my hand. It was rapid and he was inhaling sharply. This wasn't just withdrawal, that was clear, but I didn't want to ask him about it. At least not right then and there.

I sat with him like that for a while and when his breathing seemed to get out of control, I guided him to breath slowly. I knew what it was. I realised after I'd been sitting with him for quite some time. He was having an anxiety attack.