Together at Last

Which Ones?

It is after dinner, Mycroft is cleaning up in the kitchen. Greg sits in my armchair, watching the telly with John and I.

"Sherlock, its time for your meds."

"I'm fine Mycroft."

"Sherlock, now."

John pulls me up with his good arm, leaning back a tad too far and stumbling back when I stand.

"You need to go. Please."

I comply meekly, silently following John into the kitchen. Mycroft has all of my meds out now, already pulling pills. John grabs me a glass of water, setting it on the counter between us.

"How many have you been skipping? And for how long?"

"The Ambien. And the anti depressants. Maybe a few skipped doses of my appatite meds."

"No. You said you where taking everything again."

"I lied, okay. Leave me alone about it."

"Why did you stop taking them again?"

"I got scared!"

I start tearing up again, leaning against the counter for support.

"Sherlock..."

John stops when he sees me tearing up, letting me push past him and go back to the room alone. Someone is at the door within ten minutes, Mycroft with my meds again.

"Fuck off Mycroft. I'm fine without them."

"Mycroft is gone. So is Greg. I sent them home. Now please come out of there Sherlock."

I unlock the door, letting John come in and sit beside me.

"Please, I don't want them."

"I'm not forcing you to take many of them. Just the ones you need."

"Which ones?"

"Your anti depressants and the appetite pills. That's it for right now, okay? Just please, you need to be taking everything at some point. I want you back on all of your meds by the end of the week Sherlock."

I lie down in the bed, holding out my arms to John.  He lies against me, the same way as earlier, and tries to fall asleep.

"Sherlock?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on with you right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're tense, really tense. And your breathing is irregular. I can feel your heartbeat, its too fast to be normal."

"I'm fine."

"We need to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"Lying to each other about these things. Trying to make each other feel like we are okay when we really aren't."

"I'm scared John. I try to talk about it, but I'm scared."

"You're okay. Why are you scared?"

"I don't want to loose you again."

"You won't."

John laces our fingers together, squeezing my hand reassuringly. I try to relax, focusing on his breathing.

"There you go, just try to breathe with me."

He calms me down quickly, almost to the point of sleep.

"See? You're okay. Try to go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes you are."