Still The Addict

Graduation

(Sherlock's POV)

Six months ago I never would have envisioned myself graduating from Cutters Anonymous. Mainly because it's only existed for five months, consists of one member (me) and is ran out of my flat by my boyfriend, John Watson. So yes, it's al been a rather suffer development. A positive one of course. One can be assured I'm feeling particularly elated today. I dress up all nice, since John is taking me for dinner somewhere to celebrate. When I woke up this morning I could see in his eyes how proud he is of me. I want to preserve that look. Grip it tightly in my palm and hold onto it forever. I'll never let my John down again. I'll never relapse.

He takes me to the Ritz; has apparently been saving up for quite some time, with the money he makes at that oh-so- interesting  job of his. We order an expensive bottle of wine, and I reluctantly agree to drink as it's a special occasion - kind of ironic the one day of the year I drink is the day I'm graduating Addiction Academy. I wonder if John would appreciate the humour in that.

It's an occasional to be marked with memorable cheer. I even eat, too preoccupied by my boyfriend's jovial countenance to worry about my waistline.  John melts all the worry away, leaving me a loose string to bend and shape and pocket and pull. I'm at his complete mercy.

"You've done so well Sherlock!" John toasts me.

"Well, you had something to do with that," I modestly deflect. I swirl some green beans and...ranch dressing?... around my fork and eat it. I haven't really been paying attention to what I ordered. "Honestly, I was just so depressed without you. I couldn't stop thinking about you!" I admit, the blush starting to creep up again.

John leans over and rubs his forehead. "God, I was so blind to the truth and in denial! Remember the time I wanted to date Sarah?!"

"Remember the girl with no dog!"

We both bury our laughing, grins spreading widely across our faces. I can't stop smiling and I don't think John can either! "Y'know Sherlock," John asks, after we've calmed down enough to sip more wine. "You're still the addict?"

"How d'you mean?" I ask dubiously, eyes narrowed. I'm frowning in worry. Wondering if I'm really not cured, if he isn't really as proud as he says.

"You've went from being addicted to cutting to being addicted to me," he explains. I nod in relief. "Then again, I can't say I'm not just as hooked on you,"

I smirk, and we share one between us. I feet his foot moving under the table, slinking up my legs to my-

"Ahem, John," I chastise gruffly. "This is hardly the place,"

The ex soldier stares at me skeptically. "You're telling me you've never wanted to do it in the bathroom of the Ritz?"

"It is a very clean bathroom," I admit, just because I'm so flustered and have not much else to say. My lover stands up, leaving his napkin. He slips the remainder of the wine into his inside jacket pocket, so it's hidden in the lining.

"Meet me in the bathroom in three minutes,"

After being thrown out, John and I stumble drunkenly back to our humble abode in Baker Street. We laugh, we sing, we cry. We share the most intimate of moments and continue to feel like strangers. I run, carrying John on my back. John runs further, carrying me this time. Everything has fallen into place for this consulting detective. I wish we could stay in this moment forever.

I can tell you so much you don't know about the present, but can't predict the future. I don't think I would even if I could. I don't want to know what's ahead of me. There's only one thing I need to know. One thing I've ever know with this much certainly. I know that I am in love with John Watson.