The real fall

Chapter Five

I sigh and shake my head, causing him to pout harder. "Please." He whispers brokenly. My heart hurts just looking at him and I nod meekly, causing him to smile. He pulls me towards the bed and pushes me down before curling up into my side. My heart is thudding extremely hard in my chest as the super cute Sherlock wraps his arms around my waist. The only problem is how uncomfortable my formal work clothing is. I wriggle my legs around and after a while he huffs and gets up, opening up his drawers. He throws me a blue t - shirt and I sigh, walking into the bathroom and changing. At least I'll be comfortable.

I walk back in and quickly crawl under the douvet. He hums and hugs me from behind, burying his face in my brown hair. I slowly close my eyes and yawn before falling into a sleep.

When I wake up I roll over to be met with a still sleeping Sherlock. His eyes flutter and he groans, pressing his head to his forehead. His eyes open and he smiles weakly. "Morning." He mutters, rubbing his eyes. "Morning." I reply, trying to pull away. He groans and holds me tighter, not wanting to let go. "Please let go!" I say. He shakes his head and I frown. "I'll....run you a bath?" I try. He gives in and releases me. I have a shower before running a bath and calling Sherlock. When I get no reply I walk in to see him on the floor, face down.

I roll him over, worry clouding my features. "My head hurts." He mumbles. "That's why you don't do drugs." I sigh, slowly easing him up. He doesn't reply but eventually is on his feet. He groans with every step he takes and I leave him alone to bathe.

"Sherlock?" I call from outside the door after around half an hour or so.
"Hmmm?" He hums.
"I'm gonna go to the shop to get some food." I tell him.
"Wait! I'll come!" He says. I wait another ten minutes for him before a nice smelling Sherlock emerges. I grab my purse and he grabs my hand as I walk out of the door.

We bump into Mrs. Hudson who smiles brightly at us before hurrying off to hover her flat. We walk to the closet supermarket and I grab a trolley before walking into the shop. Sherlock trails behind and trips over his feet once or twice. I sigh and stop,  turning around and looking at him. "Look if you really don't feel good just go home." I say. He shakes his head stubbornly and stays throughout the whole shop. He helps me carry the bags and then slumps down in one of the armchairs.

I cook some eggs and bacon and when I serve it he rests his head in his hands and pushes the food away. "Do you not like bacon and eggs? I can -"
"No it's not THAT food. It's ANY food." He groans, his head hitting the back of the chair. I take the time to look at him. To look at his messy hair, bloodshot eyes, pale face and how he's scruffily dressed. He looks badly hung over. He looks terrible.