Oneshots of John lock<3

Using.(bbc)

Sherlock Holmes, most intelligent man in London, maybe the whole of the UK. Known for solving brilliant mysteries that the average human mind couldn't comprehend. What's his secret?

Of course his brother, myctoft, and lover, John, (including various few others) were aware of his past trauma with drugs. Though he seemed to have improved, the signs and actions he'd produce no longer continued. His voice had more emotion, he had a proper character, (not that he didn't have one before).
A new case had come around, nothing about it made sense. Sherlock spent hours of his time on the Internet, hanging up notes, interrogating people. His life seemed to revolve around his case, although his partner was a little hurt by this, he had to accept this is what his boyfriend loved doing, and sometimes it was going to be time consuming.

It was a normal Wednesday, and John had just come back from a average weekly shop. He had plastic bags hooked around his left arm, and a key in his right. He pushed their apartment door open to see Sherlock in a sweat, he was pacing back at forth shaking his hand. He hadn't even realised the figure in the doorway until a small croak exited Johns throat.
"Oh, John! Oh John! Lovely to see you, mind putting the shopping away I have alot to think about and not a lot of time."
"Sherlock, calm down. What's going on?" John placed his hand on his lovers shoulder, though THR brunette seemed startled by his touch. "Sherlock?"
"John, I just said I'm busy!" Sherlock hissed stepping away, continuing to pounce across the living room. The shorter man inspected his partner, the sweating, the adrenaline. And the needle on the coffee table.
"What have you taken?"
Silence fell between them, their eyes locked with fear. One set of eyes were defensive while the other just looked disappointed.
"Why would you suspect ive taken anything?" His voice was low, practically snarling.
"Where's the list?" John huffed, grabbing Sherlocks hand.
"Kitchen counter."
John stumbled over, glancing at the messy handwriting. He felt his heart drop, it had been months of Sherlock being clean. And all of it gone in just a few hours.
"I'm sorry." The brunette mumbled, still scraping his feet against the floor.
"Your not sorry, Sherl." He sighed, walking over to gently caress his lovers cheek, he struggled to keep his partner under general control. But seeing him make himself suffer was indescribably painful.
"Do you have to tell Mycroft?" He whined, pressing his face against johns hand.
".. this time i won't. But the next time it'll be straight to Molly." The older man's voice was gentle, as he led Sherlock to sit down.
"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered again, pressing his face agaisnt johns shoulder.
"Your not darl.."