Be My Starlight

Overdose

POV- John

     I rifle through Sherlock's room, trying to find where he hid his hoard this time. He has gotten worse about it, possibly close to another overdose. The door opens, revealing a still shirtless Sherlock. Water drips from his long curls, splattering like crystals when he shakes his head.

"Are you feeling any better?"

He doesn't respond, instead dropping his towel on the ground. Still dripping wet, he lies back on the bed. I make a mental note to continue my search later, distracted by Sherlock.

"Put your shirt on, dry off, something. It's bloody cold out Sherlock."

"Im fine."

I walk to the open window, intending to shut it. Sherlock chucks a pillow at me, grumbling something about leaving it alone.

"Come back over here John, I'm cold."

"If you put some bloody clothes on..."

I walk over anyways, falling into his arms. His skin is still warm, though it is beginning to cool down. We lie here like this for a few minutes, savoring the togetherness. Sherlock presses his lips against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I twist around to face him, our lips meeting suddenly. He is feeling better, though his lips still feel feverish. I smile when he slides his hand below my shirt, resting it on my hip. We pull apart when someone knocks on the door, rattling the handle.

"Brother, come out for dinner. Mother is worried about you, and father is bloody upset."

"Go away Mycroft, I don't care."

He presses back against me, carrying a note of annoyance in his actions now. I kiss him harder feeling him shiver again. He calms rather quickly, no longer thinking about Mycroft. My skin is suddenly exposed as Sherlock teasingly pulls my shirt half way up. I pull back and help him strip my shirt off fully. The air is cold, but with his body against mine it is easy to ignore. He lightly plants a line of kisses down my chest and stomach. I start a line of my own across his neck, feeling him relax against me.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too Sherlock."

His lips slam into mine again, hungry for something. I feel it too, I want him. His hands are shaking, his attempt to steady them makes it more pronounced.

"What's wrong?"

"Withdrawal."

"Bloody hell Sherlock. How much did you have?"

He pulls back, lying down again. I pull my shirt back on, the moment gone.

"What does it matter John? I said Im fine."

"It does matter. What happens when you overdose again?"

"I won't. I'm being more careful this time."

He rolls over, his back to me. Damn it. I can feel him slipping away again, I shouldn't have said anything this time. I stand, making a move to leave through the window again.

"Don't. Please."

I turn back, surprised to see Sherlock standing by the bed. Something really is wrong, he usually would have pouted in silence for a while. I walk back slowly, telling him to sit back on the bed. He draws me back to his side, holding me till we fall asleep together. I wake covered in a thick woolen blanket, Sherlock nowhere to be seen. Something moves on the ground, catching my eye.

"Sherlock?"

"John. I...I couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

"What did you do?"

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

Shuffling, something else moves.

"What did you do Sherlock?"

"I had to. I'm sorry John."

A cold feeling engulfs me as I realize what he means.

"No. You....You didn't. Not so soon."

I stumble up, fumbling for the lightswitch. It clicks on, revealing the truth I want so hard not to be. Sherlock sits on the floor, scattered pills and a needle lying next to him. His eyes are wide and wild, too many drugs again. I slam his bedroom door open, nearly slipping down the stairs in my hurry to get down. He has shown me around the house before, only when his family and housekeeper are out, so I know where Mycroft's room is. He jumps when I burst through his door, cursing at me.

"Help. Please."

"Bloody hell! Who are you?"

"It's Sherlock. Again. Drugs. Help."

I'm stumbling over my words, terror muddling my thoughts. Mycroft falls out of bed and trails me back up the stairs to Sherlock.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I was sleeping, and woke up, and he was like this."

Sherlock flops onto the ground, head slamming dangerously against the floor.

"I need to get him downstairs. Go home, you shouldn't be here."

"No!"

Sherlock doesn't say anything else, instead grabbing my hand. I pick him up, noting he has dropped more weight, and rush downstairs with him in my arms. Mycroft starts his car, helping me slide Sherlock into the backseat. I slip in after him and help him lie against me. He is groaning, about to puke again. I roll him on his side,yelling at Mycroft when Sherlock throws up on the floor of his expensive car.

"Bloody hell! Keep better track of him please!"

I am suppressing a bit of laughter, Sherlock always finds a way to piss off Mycroft. This is ended when Sherlock latches onto my arm again, fingers digging into my flesh.

"John."

Sherlock starts to slip out of consciousness again.

"Sherlock! No, stay awake."

My voice cracks, we could lose him. His eyes snap back open, body tensing in pain again.

"John?"

"Im here."

"Don't leave."

"I won't. I promise."

He yells again, curling his body against my side. Mycroft takes a particularly sharp turn that sends us both to the other side of the seat, Sherlock yelps as my body comes down on top of his. I wince, knowing a few new bruises are already forming on his bare side.

"What the hell was that?"

"You. It was you Mycroft. Watch the bloody turns!"

"Shut up! Please!"

I sit back up, pulling myself off of Sherlock. He is yelling at us now incoherently. The drugs take over again and he is in a lucid state of inbetween. I try to lie him against me, his body wracked with pain. Every breath is laboured, sharp and short. Mycroft flings us across the seat again as he whips into the parking lot, receiving a glare and loads of cursing from both of us. I rush him into the hospital, stammering out his name and a brief description of the situation. The nurse takes one look at Sherlocks state and asks me a quick question.

"Drugs?"

"Yes. Help him. Please? He needs help!"

I am struggling to keep it together now, both of us are screaming at the nurse.

"DON'T TAKE ME AWAY FROM HIM! LET ME STAY!"

The nurse jumps back, Sherlock is wild again and she is trying to avoid being punched. Sherlock is in one of his moods again, not helped by the drug induced state he is in right now. I take a careful step towards him, yelling when I feel someone pull me back. Mycroft is dragging me back, away from the crazed Sherlock. The last thing he says before someone sticks him with a needle is my name. I break down in tears as they take Sherlocks lifeless body through the doors and away from us. Mycroft holds me long after they leave, trying draw something that makes sense out of me. I fall asleep like this, crying in the arms of a near stranger.