Ashes, Ashes

Like Breathing

- c h a p t e r   t w e n t y   t h r e e -

Emma was out of the hospital, again. Of course, that meant that she had to be inside of the hospital again in order to get out. She'd been given instruction on how she could get off of an alcohol addiction without getting into another bout of withdrawal - and she would be following those directions, even though most of her motivation had nearly died and shriveled away along with her.

Several weeks passed by with the same monotony and boredom as always. Perhaps she managed to get a few kind words from John, who wished to make sure her condition was remaining well, but other than that nothing had changed. It was almost as if she'd never nearly died for the second time in her life. If that didn't manage to change her life, then she most likely would never get any difference.

Dr. Thompson had been rather upset with her, unfortunately. She always denied it when Emma accused it of her ("I am not upset with you, I am just concerned with what you have done and want to make sure you do not know it again"), but the tiny head shakes and the frown which always perched on the tips of her lips made it clear what her true feelings were.

Perhaps she was upset with her failure in supporting Emma, but it didn't matter. Emma knew she'd managed to make another person upset, and now she had follow through and figure out what she'd done and how to make sure she didn't do it again. If this didn't cease, she'd end up creating a chain of disappointments. Then again, she'd already managed to do that for the past two decades.

What Emma truly needed was a distraction - a distraction which wouldn't dwindle, a distraction which would stay constant and exhilirating and always manage to move her forwards instead of forcing her to create something negative. The only problem was that she never thought she could find this very distraction. She'd tried spending more time with Florenz, more time working with her ribbons, more time playing the cello, more time trying to sketch. Nothing.

As if it were some sort of temporary replacement for the distraction she so desired, she soon became addicted to John's small visits. Their tiny conversations ended up being the only thing she managed to look forward to, even though they became few and far between as soon as it became clear she wasn't about to collapse on the ground in a fit. Nevertheless, she would always try to reach out for it whenever the chance came along.

Then again, he didn't come along all that often. Most of the time, he disappeared for days on end - not surprising, considering that he had a pregnant wife to take care of and a job which demanded an awful amount of his attention. Emma knew she was being selfish trying to get him simply so that someone could pay attention to her, but selfishness was far from her greatest vice.

One day, however, she spotted him walking out of Sherlock's flat looking somewhat shaken up. Although she could not place the reason why and she was in no state to figure it out, she decided that she might as well attempt to make contact with him in this moment. After all, he might end up vanishing for Baker Street for a handful of weeks and her life would return to endless monotony.

For several seconds, she found herself hesitating. He wasn't coming to Baker Street to see her, after all. She might just be a bother to him, always hovering about him like a fly whenever he appeared at his former flat. But, then again, this wasn't about what John wanted - Emma needed to speak to him.

"John, hello there," she said, allowing a smile to curl across her lips despite the way she still felt somewhat under the weather. "Haven't seen you much for a few days - but it's because you and Sherlock are on another case, yes?"

"Yes, indeed," John agreed. "Sherlock never fails to find a case, and he never fails to bring me along. I suppose I manage to help - he certainly gave a glowing account of me back at the wedding. You know, he was-"