Sherlock One Shots

Alone - Johnlock

A/n requested by @NekotaliaFF

Alone – Johnlock

Sherlock’s POV

“Sherlock. I am going out.” John alerts me before walking out of the door. He is never here anymore and never helps out with the cases which I readily receive. Since being friends with John I have become more human. Ugh it’s disgusting isn’t it? At first I thought that it was affecting my deducting skills because I could not work out where my blogger has been going but then I realised that he hasn’t been going to the same place. So there is no mystery woman. This upsets me because this must mean that he is just going out to avoid me. To get away from me. Do you blame him? I am a freak after all. I get to my feet a pullback the curtain to see John turning the corner away from Baker Street. His methods of departure aren’t weather dependent; he takes a cab when it is sunny and walks when it is rainy and vice versa. It is also not dependent on any financial issues because he currently has none due his stead job at the surgery. Jobs. So dull.

I walk towards my bedroom which has the door shut. If Mycroft was here he would think this suspicious and he is right. I open the door and slump on the bed and for the fourth time in the last four days I pull a razor blade out of my nightstand. I roll up my left shirt sleeve to reveal my previous days’ work and bring the sharp blade to my soft skin and begin to carve the letter ‘A’ into my skin. Being a sociopath I cannot confront John with my ‘feelings’ but instead I have to exceed that emotional pain with something physical.

Have I done something to hurt John? Have I driven him away from me? My John.

\~.~.~.~.~/

Another day and another scar. I am ‘reading’ while watching John discreetly from behind the book. He is just being John but not my John it is like someone has told him to ignore me but in my opinion he is doing it subconsciously. He looks at me and I quickly pull my book – whatever it is called – up in front of my face. “Sherlock. Your book is upside down.” He informs me and I sigh. “Popping out.” He states before leaving the flat once again. I am tired of this. All this secrecy and ignorance! Why can’t I have my John back?! I grunt fairly loudly and stops towards my bedroom. Like yesterday. I slump on my bed and pull out the razor to carve the final letter: ‘K’. It is official, I have been marked ‘FREAK’ so everyone knows what kind of monster I am. It will give Sally and Anderson something to laugh about, maybe John will join in.

Amongst the scars which read this word are needle scars from my days as a drug addict. Drugs. I remember it just like it was yesterday. The high. The lack of worries. Dammit! I rush over to my wardrobe and rummage around the bottom to find my stash of needles and liquid cocaine. I haven’t touched this stuff since before I met John. All those years ago. I still remember Mike Stamford waltzing in with John in tow. It was obvious he had just returned from military service from his face and his leg. Elementary. I fill the syringe with the beautiful liquid which will make the next hours a living dream and press it into my skin allowing it to perforate the surface…

\~.~.~.~.~/

Third Person

Sherlock lies on the sofa in 221B Baker Street giggling hysterically for no known reason. There is a trail of needles and blood leading from his bedroom towards the living room. He hasn’t felt this good in ages but the drugs are fuelling this perception. His sleeve is rolled up ready to administrate the next shot and an old handkerchief is tied around his bicep. Due to his inflamed hearing he can hear the front door open and shut as John enters the building; fury builds up inside Sherlock. This man has made him feel miserable for days and made him become accustomed to his old ways. He gets to his feet abruptly and stands, waiting for his blogger to appear in the doorway. After the patter of John’s feet travelling up the stairs the shorter man is standing in front of the consulting detective. Speechless due to the variation of scars on Sherlock’s arm amongst the blood. “Sherlock. What’s-”

“No!” Sherlock yells absolutely fuming, “Do not pretend you care! You have been ignoring me for weeks and because of being a high functioning sociopath I couldn’t confront you unless I was…am high!” He roars before he brings his fist up to John’s face giving him an almighty knock. John groans in pain as he falls backwards, falling on the floor. “Oh my…John! I am so sorry I…” He panics as he pulls the blogger up to his feet. The pair fall silent. Sherlock is gripping his torn up arm while John is mopping up the blood which is pouring from his nose with his hands.

“Sherlock, I am so sorry!” John exclaims with a sad look in his eyes, “I’ve been helping my sister out. She has been sofa surfing and I have been trying to persuade her to let me help her out.” He approaches Sherlock with his hand held out, he places his fingertips lightly on Sherlock’s left arm causing the other man to flinch before allowing the touch. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Why would you care?!” Sherlock replies spitefully.

“Because I care about you!” The room falls silent again, “Sherlock I-”

“Shut up.” Sherlock says before planting his lips forcefully against John’s. The pair fall back onto the sofa, glad of each other’s embrace.