Be My Starlight

The High

I stuff a wad of cash into my coat pocket, sliding my window open as quietly as I can. The winter breeze reminds me to grab my scarf before I drop onto the thick limb of my tree. I pause for a moment at the bottom, feeling a moment of sadness as I kneel by the stone that marks the resting place of one of my only friends, my dog. His collar is still in my coat pocket, I haven't taken it out since his death. My hands are shaking, I ran out of medicine again. I'm out to get more, not too difficult if you have cash and know who to look for. The gate creaks open as I slip through, closing slowly in the breeze. I turn up my collar as it starts snowing, shielding my face. The path to the park is empty, as it always is at this hour, making it easier to move between the shadows pooled between the streetlamps.

I slink to the bench where my supplier will be waiting, as always, to exchange the cash for my salvation. Drugs and John are the only things I have found to keep me sane since Redbeards death, only yesterday. The pain feels fresh as my fingers brush against his collar while pulling out my cash. I blink away the tears quickly, knowing the pain will be numbed soon. The exchange is silent and fast, leaving me plenty of time to walk back home. I scale the tree, again pausing at the bottom, and slip into my room. My window creaks slightly again, causing me to wince. I unpack my coat pockets now, dumping the drugs out onto my worn rug. Before I can take anything though, I need to hide the rest. My last lesson with being caught is one I won't soon forget, my backside was bruised for a few weeks after. Lost my allowance for a few months too, withdrawal from that was brutal.

I finish slipping my hoard into the underside of my mattress, fingers brushing against the knife I also have concealed there. My hands shake more severely as I prepare the needles for use, Im going to need more than one dose tonight. A sharp prick in my wrist is all I feel before the drug is in my system, then the next. Only two of the higher doses today, not making the mistake of overdosing again. My entire body is shaking as the drugs course through my veins, a wide smile plastered across my face. I feel the smile grow wider as my head gets light, finally feeling the effects I have been craving for the past three days. The high is wonderful, my whole body feeling it sharply.

My head throbs when I wake up, pounding with the headache that often follows a high as large as last nights. I barely make it to the bathroom before throwing up, throat burning. Every bit of misery is worth the high though, anything is worth it to forget. Even just a little moment of numbness. I smile a little before heaving again, trying not to wake anyone else in the house. My face is covered in sweat, as is my bare chest. I don't remember stripping my shirt, but the frigid winter air feels good on my overheated skin. A knock on the door makes me jump, followed by a low voice and rattling of the door handle.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Im fine Mrs Hudson."

She lingers a few minutes more, leaving when I don't say anything else. I puke again, wishing I could take more right now. I can't of course, I don't want another overdose. Most of my morning is spent in my room puking my guts out. I wake up sometime later, the taste of bile in my mouth. The sunlight streaming through my open window irritates my eyes so I draw the curtains closed. The floor is cold, so I shove the rug against the wall and lie stomach down on the hardwood. My mind wanders again, drawing me back to my misery. Mycroft comes by a few times trying to get me to come down and eat, leaving when I ignore him. I climb out the window again, still bare chested, and lie in the branches outside the window. Surprisingly, I fall asleep again, clutching Redbeards collar to my chest.

I wake up to John's face hovering inches above mine, sunset casting a golden glow across him. He pulls me back through the open window, forcing me onto my bed. I lie back with a groan, now feeling the full effects of last night.

"You did it again, didn't you? Bloody hell Sherlock! You promised! I thought that was the last time, that you would call me when you were feeling like that."

He sighs and plops down onto the bed by my head, brushing my hair from my forehead. I push myself up, lying my head in his lap. I close my eyes, content to lie here with John Watson forever. John pries the collar from my fingers, setting it gently on my bedside table. He laces his fingers through mine, moving so my head rests on his chest. We fall asleep like this, tangled together. I jump up suddenly, rolling out of the bed. John chases after me as I stumble back to the washroom. I barely make it before I'm heaving again, bringing up what is hopefully the last of the drugs in my system.

"Are you okay Sherlock?"

"Fine. Im fine."

He reaches into his bag, pulling a water bottle from it.

"Drink something at least, do you feel like you could eat anything of substance?"

I take the water, ignoring the offer of food. He stays by my side as I sit on the cold tile of my washroom, puking and drinking small sips of water interchangeably. John walks away for a moment, starting the water of my shower.

"Get cleaned up Sherlock, I'll wait for you in your room."

He leaves the washroom, bringing back a fresh set of clothes for me before he goes again. I stumble into the shower, noticing he got the temperature correctly adjusted for me. The heat of the water helps clear my head a tad bit.