Be My Starlight

Panic

POV - Sherlock

I just met your little friend dear Sherlock. Mr. Watson and I had a very enjoyable talk.- JM

Stay away from him.- SH

Where would the fun in that be?- JM

Don't touch him.- SH

My anxiety is quickly rising, Moriarty has met John. John knows. He knows about Moriarty. I want to throw my cell across the room, watching it shatter on the wall would be nice.

Sherlock, don't forget you can calm down easily right now.- JM

I already told you I am finished with that.- SH

You can fix yourself right now Sherlock.- JM

No.- SH

Mr. Watson said the same thing.- JM

Stay away from him! I will kill you if you touch him!- SH

No need to get upset Sherlock.- JM

Moriarty is making my anxiety worse, my hands are shaking to the point that I can barely hold the phone.

Check your coat pockets Sherlock. For me.- JM

I'm not doing this anymore.- SH

You have it.- JM

My resolve is crumbling. He is right, I do want to take the morphine.

I can get you more.- JM

It is two feet away from me, my coat, morphine in the pocket.

See you soon Sherlock.- JM

I grab my coat, dumping the morphine vials out in my hand. My phone hits the hardwood as I prepare a morphine injection, hands shaking.

"Sherlock!"

Mycroft enters the room, stopping when he sees me. I ignore him, continuing the preparation for my injection. He drops onto the ground slapping the drugs out of my hands. The vial shatters against the hearth of the fireplace, my hand stings where he hit me.

"What the hell are you doing Sherlock? I cant be woken up by John every time you are having problems."

I start crying, too stressed out to think about anything I am doing. Mycroft keeps yelling at me, his voice louder than I have ever heard it.

"Why can't you do this Sherlock? You can't avoid this for more than three days. The second I leave you alone to screw everything up!"

He steps closer, everything about the situation reminds me of when father caught me on a high. I curl into a ball, screaming at him to leave me alone. The noise it too much, Mycroft is much too close. I am shaking, worse than usual, and nothing seems to be getting any better. I'm hyperventilating again, an anxiety attack coming on quickly.

"Where the hell did you get this Sherlock?"

Mycroft begins throwing things around the room, checking everything for my stash. He grabs for my coat, and I kick him away.

"Give it to me now."

I don't know what to do, he is going crazy about this. He manages to rip my coat away from me, cursing when he reaches into the pocket.

"Do you know what you are doing Sherlock? If you overdose again, I am putting you in the hospital for mental treatment!"

I can't breathe, the panic is literally choking me.

"How long have you been saving these? You could have asked for more, but you kept these instead! What is wrong with you Sherlock?"

He has never said that before. Ever. John and Mycroft where the only two who had never asked me what was wrong with me, or called me a freak. I start screaming louder, finally able to breathe again.

"I should have taken more, enough to kill myself."

I don't care what he is saying now, instead I blow up in his face. He takes a final step towards me, scaring me back into silence. He is going to hit me now, I shrink away. My body tenses, preparing for the blow. Nothing happens, instead Mycroft continues to tear apart the room, taking away anything sharp or dangerous.

"You are crazy, bloody insane. Almost as bad as she was."

He doesn't stop yelling at me, not until I move and look up at him. My face is streaked with tears, I'm still trembling. He goes to hug me, trying to apologize for what he said. I shove him away, screaming at him again. He sits in the middle of the mess, not following when I run from the room. I lock myself in his library, curling up on the floor. My phone buzzes, probably something stupid again. I check it though, still needing a distraction.

What do you need tonight Mr. Holmes? I see your supply has run rather low.- JM

I push open the window heading, not to the park, but instead to Johns flat. The walk is long, I stop and curl up again a few times, the flashbacks are getting worse. Mrs. Watson answers the door when I ring the bell, trying to talk to me. I push past her and run to Johns room, slamming the door open.

"S...Sherlock? What are you doing?"

John is barely awake, I need him. I cross the room, sliding under the blankets with John. He pulls my head to his chest, he is scared too.

"What happened Sherlock?"

The shaking gets worse when I realize John is getting worked up as well, he is going to be upset with me when he finds out what happened. I can't breathe again, struggling to hold myself together.

"You wanted to do it again, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"You texted Mycroft at the wrong time. He...he freaked out about it."

Mrs. Watson walks into the room, kneeling beside the bed.

"Sherlock, your brother just called me."

"No. I'm not going back."

John holds me tighter, whispering something soothing into my ear. I am crying again, struggling to keep quiet.

"He just wanted to make sure you made it here okay, and that you aren't high again. He said he would come get you later today."

She leaves after checking me for drugs, saying something to John about keeping an eye on me. He holds me close through the night, never failing to whisper softly to me when ever I wake up frightened.