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Sherlock Holmes: Someone I used to know

⚠ Warning: Swearing, slight depression and (past) drug use. 

A/N: This character comes from the show: Elementary.

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Ever wondered why Sherlock refuses to sleep all the time? Why he works his ass off, non stop, 24/7?  There is a very simple answer to that: You...

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<<<(Joans P.O.V)>>>

Another day with Sherlock. 

I wouldn't say I enjoy living with him, I couldn't say I dislike it either. Anyone who would look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them I live with the local sociopath. I don't believe Sherlock is a bad man, he's just a bit weird. 

I stared ahead while he was passing around the room like mad man. He was shaking head to toe, with an half empty coffee cup in his hand. He probably hasn't slept in at least 4 days. I told him many times to get some rest but no matter what I say, he doesn't listens to me anyway. 

"I need a case Watson." He sneered at me. "Get me an interesting one." 

I rolled my eyes. "It is not like I can pull them out of thin air. Unless you want me to commit a crime." I half joked. This caused Sherlock to shake his head. "No no, you wouldn't be smart enough to hide it properly. The police would be on to you in no time."

I let out a big sigh. Before I could say anything back I heard something being thrown in the mailbox. I walked to it and grabbed the letter off the ground. It came from LA. I frowned my eyebrow in confusing. What kind of dealings do we have with LA?

It wasn't addressed to me though. It was for Sherlock. I handed him the letter, but before he could even open it, he tore it apart. 

"Why did you do that for?"

He didn't answer, he just threw the pieces in the bin and then walked out of the door. Even though I know it was non of my business, I couldn't help but to wonder what caused his sudden anger burst. 

<<<(Sherlocks P.O.V)>>>

I can't believe he decided to reach out to me now. Why? Why now? 

'He left me.' I angrily thought. 'He left me when I needed him the most.'

I leaned against a wall in a small alley, secretly smoking the weed I managed to hide from Watson. I'm personally more of a heroine type of guy, but weed was all I could get my hands on, so this would have to do it for now. I know I shouldn't be doing drugs at all. It's the reason he left me in the first place. But I need it so badly, without the drugs I can't function. I closed my eyes as I shakingly inhaled the weed.

I wanted to forget, forget him, forget the way we broke up. But I could not, the weed wasn't strong enough to blank my mind. Damn, that's why I need the heroine, not weed. Heroine helps me forget. I let out a small whimper as the image of him shouting at me filled my mind. 

"You promised Sherlock! You fucking promised you would stop, that you would get help!"

"No no no..." I dug my nails in my arm, trying to stop the thoughts from coming. 

"Why won't you let me help you!" 

At this point I sank on the ground, the burned out weed laid on the ground in front of me. I had my head in my hands, pulling rather harshly on my hair, not caring that it hurts. I deserve to be hurt. 

"You know what, fuck you Sherlock! Even though if you don't care for yourself, I do, I care for you. It tears me apart to see you ruin yourself the way you do. I can't deal with this. I just want to be your boyfriend, not your doctor or your therapist. Come back when you actually love yourself the way I love you."  

I remember the tears which poured down his face when he slammed the door behind him. He left all his stuff at my place and moved to LA to live with his sister. That was the last time I've seen him and that's been over 3 years now. 

I miss him. 

I don't know why he loved me. No one else seem to care for me. People hate it when I talk, because I tell them the truth. I can't help it either that I was born with such high intellect and a sharp eye. I always kept telling myself that it was the rest who was stupid, that I was perfectly normal. The rest of the world doesn't seem to agree with me though. I got beaten up for it all the time back in high school. Even now I can still feel people avoiding me because of it. 

I hate to admit it, but I can't help but to feel awfully lonely sometimes. Nobody seem to understand me. It is not their fault either that they are so much dumber than me. 

No one understood me but him, with his pretty face and his mysterious eyes. Whenever I was ranting about some theory which is wrongly written down, he would just listen, instead of telling me to shut up. I could be myself with him. He would never judge me on anything I do. 

Besides that one thing...

My drug use. 

He hates it. He says it makes me an entire different person. I tried to stop. I really tried for him, but I was weak. Using drugs is the thing what kept me standing during all the beating and bullying in high school. 

I couldn't see at that time that I was losing him with every syringe and every smoke. I thought it wouldn't hurt because it was the thing what makes me think clearer. Now that I'm clean, I really see what I had and what I lost. I'm too ashamed and prideful to crawl back to him. I know I should though, I should be on my knees begging for his forgiveness. He was the only one who ever truly cared for me after all.

And God, I miss him. 

I stared ahead of me at the empty brick wall. With the very little strength I had, I managed to lift myself of the ground and dragged myself home. I really need a new case. Something to keep me distracted from all the sad feelings inside me. I tend to focus myself fully on cases. Everything not to think about him, because it hurts so badly. 

This is also the reason why I can't sleep. I know whenever I close my eyes I see him. I would dream about him. They weren't nightmares though, on the contrary, they were always quite lovely. Which is even worse than nightmares, as it made me only realize more what I lost.  

When I got home, I opened the front door, wanting to nothing but another a cup of coffee, hoping to shake the tired feeling of me. 

Before I could go to the kitchen I was stopped by Watson. I looked confused at her. Without words she pointed to the table. 

It was his letter, she must have picked up the pieces from the bin and taped them back together. 

"Who is Y/n?" 

That name made my world freeze. It was something I haven't heard in a very long time. I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, I couldn't even think about his name. It just hurts too much. 

I looked down, not really knowing what to say. And believe me, that doesn't happens a lot.

"N-nobody, just someone I used to know."

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XXX Luna❤

Word count: 1308  ✦  30.03.2023