Why Are You My Remedy?

Tom

Sherlock's fellow rehab buddies all sat in a little room filled with tables and chairs, a small little table was full of lemonade, coffee, cookies, and other little snack food that looked much better than breakfasts.

He sat alone as family members all visited their children, wives, husbands, or siblings who were doing them proud by getting better.

Mycroft told him he was busy, his parents were out somewhere, and well... He had no one else.

John sat beside him, and looked at what Sherlock was doing.

He was drawing in a printed out picture of a dog, coloring it a deep red color with a crayon.

"No family coming to visit you?" John asked Sherlock out of curiosity. Sherlock nodded.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am a bit of a... What you would call a loner." Sherlock replied without looking up.

John looked over his client, who had actually changed into a loose grey t-shirt, clean jeans, and converse for once. App laundered and everything.

He had actually waited for his family to visit, it would seem.

"Well, you aren't the only one. I don't have much family either. Except my wife."

Sherlock looked up at the man with a confused expression.

"Oh... Um... Ok." He squints his cyan eyes, and John merely chuckles.

"Contrary to popular belief, i'm not always an ass. It would seem we're both alike." They both smile, and that's when Molly walks in. Sherlock's eyes followed her, and dropped back to his little drawing.

Molly walks in with a man, who dressed in a black leather jacket, purple tee, black pants, and black tennis shoes.

His hair was shaggy and curly, much like Sherlock's only a bit of a lighter color.

John notices Sherlock's change of behavior, and clears his throat.

"One thing that happened to me with Mary, was that she was seeing somebody when I wanted to date her. Easy thing was, she didn't particularly... Like him. He was a bit of a trouble maker."

Sherlock looks up and furrows his eyes.

"And that's relevant how?" He asks, running his thumb over the paper on the crayon.

"Because... Not everyone is good for everyone." He coughs a little, trying to give his new friend a sign.

Sherlock looks around confused, his eyebrows lifted and lips forming a frown.

"Ok?"

John groans out angrily, and nods his head towards Molly and the man outside.

"Go."

Sherlock shakily gets up and John takes the drawing and continues it for his friend.

"But-" Sherlock tries to back out.

"Go to her. I'll finish this drawing for you."

Sherlock frowns and pockets his hands, walking past some people with family, and once again feels like a loner, a person with no friends or family.

Molly leaned against the brick wall outside, and Tom, her ex boyfriend, paced around.

"He threw them out?" Tom asked incredulously, scoffing and sighing in annoyance.

"Yes. That was the only pack Wiggins had... He couldn't get his friend to buy him more. I'm telling you, it isn't easy in there!"

Tom rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Molly..." He said her name as if it belonged to a disease. Turning to her, he put his hands on her arms.

"Look... I know it isn't easy in there, but was it MY fault you were selling to underaged kids?"

"You told me to..." Molly turned her head to look down at the cement. A little ladybug was crawling away to the grass and Molly felt as big as the little creature. Trying to scurry away from everything.

Tom grabbed her chin a bit harshly and turned her face to face him.

"Well... How about drunk driving? All the clubs... All the dealing... It wasn't my fault that the first drink, the first puff, got you there."

Molly pressed her lips together and could feel the tears, but didn't dare let anything drop.

"But it was your fault no one helped her." A familiar voice carried out, intelligent and cunning. Different than it was before.

And Molly turned to see Sherlock Holmes standing there.

Tom stepped away from Molly, who merely stayed in her same position, and Tom looked this new guy over.

"Yeah? She's a tough one... She could've done it herself."

Sherlock stepped towards the man, and walked in a circle around him. Tom's eyes followed him as he was circled.

"Well of coarse... But let's not forget the fact that not everyone... Is as strong as they make play to seem. The dogs with the loudest bark are the ones who are most afraid after all." Sherlock says lowly, and throws a pack in the air for him to catch.

Tom barely manages to catch it, but when he does he looks it over.

"Take it. For free. I don't need them. I'm in rehab after all, might as well get rid of a few other addictions." He shrugs, and takes Molly's hand.

Molly blushes at the sight of this all, and Sherlock could also feel her shakiness.

It was quite the picture too, such a large hand holding such a small one. From just this touch, he felt the weight of the world emanating from her, but also a past, one that was much different than what it seemed.

Pulling her aside, he clears his throat and raised an eyebrow.

"Now that you have your cancer sticks, I suppose business here is done?"

Tom looks over the pack once more, and shrugs.

"Why don't you just buy them yourself?" Sherlock asks, his face scrunched up as he tries to deduce.

Tom grows a bit shriveled up, as if embarrassed which Sherlock finally makes his first deduction after a week or so.

"Broke. Ah. Very well then. Off we go." He pulls Molly away from the bad man, and inside.

Molly watches Tom shrink away, a cigarette in his mouth, and then the door close behind her.

And that's where everything began to change.

John watches the two with a little smile, and finishes Sherlock's unfinished masterpiece.