Clique of 221B

Chapter 18: Gone Crazy

You find out that what happened was that Sherlock went absolutely crazy on drugs, charging around the flat, reciting Shakespeare, waving a gun around. When you finally looked in the flat you saw that the place was a tip, the walls were covered in newspaper reports and book pages and adverts and magazines. All of them were about Culverton Smith. Mrs Hudson managed to get the gun off him luckily. Mycroft's been away in America at the moment, he's going to kill me if he finds out what Sherlock's been doing.

You and Mrs Hudson follow John into his new therapist's house.
"Did you call the police?" John asks her.
"Of course I didn't call the police. I'm not a civilian!" She answers crossly.
"Culverton Smith." The therapist says. She has her laptop on a side table in the back room, she bends down to the computer. "This, I think, is relevant from this morning." She's searched up his name and clicks on the most recent news update. "He's publicly accused Mr Smith of being a serial killer." The news report shows a picture of both Sherlock and Culverton the title reads:
Net detective blasts Culverton Smith on Twitter:
-Defamatory remark goes viral on social networking site
-Media tycoon yet to comment

John leans down to read the page,
"Christ! Sherlock on Twitter. He really has lost it." Mrs Hudson looks at him crossly,
"Don't you dare make jokes. Don't you dare. I was terrified! You need to see him, John. You need to help him!" She pleads. John shakes his head,
"Nope."
"He needs you!"
"Somebody else." He turns away from her, angrily. "Not me. Not now." Mrs Hudson storms over to him and says harshly,
"Now you just listen to me for once in your stupid life. I know Mary's dead and I know your heart is broken, but if Sherlock Holmes dies too, who will you have then?" He opens his mouth but she keeps talking, pointing an angry finger at him. "Because I tell you something, John Watson. You will not have me." Mrs Hudson storms out and John waits a second before following her. You go after him. Outside, Mrs Hudson has folded her arms on top of the car's roof and has put her head across them and is crying. The police cars and helicopter have gone. John comes out of the house and slowly walks towards her while she sobs noisily. You close the door behind me and stand to a side. Best to keep out of this. He stops behind her for a long moment before asking,
"Have you spoken to Mycroft, Molly, uh, anyone? What about you?" He addresses the last question to you. To which you answer with a look that says, 'are you crazy?' Mrs Hudson answers tearfully,
"They don't matter. You do." Thanks Mrs H it's nice to know I'm wanted. She turns to him. "Would you just see him? Please, John. Or just take a look at him as a doctor? I know you'd change your mind if you did."
"Yeah, look, okay, maybe, if I get a chance."
"Do you promise?" She says hopefully.
"I'll try, if I'm in the area." Oh John. You are in the area.
"Promise me?"
"I promise."
"Thank you!" She spins around and walks to the back of the car. John frowns. She opens the boot of the car and from inside the handcuffed Sherlock looks up at her. John walks to the rear of the car and looks into the boot. "Well? On you go. Examine him." I think John has gone beyond being shocked. You help to pull Sherlock out of the boot. As you all walk back into the house Mrs Hudson takes the handcuffs off Sherlock.
"The woman's out of control. I asked for a cup of tea!" Sherlock says. He stops halfway down the hall and picks up a glass vase of flowers from a shelf. He takes the flowers out and heads further down the hall. John turns to Mrs Hudson as she walks in,
"How did you get him in the boot?"
"The boys from the cafe." Sherlock turns back and says angrily,
"They dropped me. Twice." You smile at that. Must of been funny. Sherlock takes a drink from the flower vase.
"And d'you know why they dropped you, dear? Because they know you." Sherlock turns and gestures towards the therapist who's stood in the living room on the phone.
"Who's this one?" Sherlock asks John pointing at her. "Is this a new person? I'm against new people." We're well aware of that, Sherly.
"Excuse me for a moment." The therapist says into the phone. Sherlock is still drinking from the vase. That can't be nice.
"She's my therapist." John says.
"Awesome! D'you do block bookings?" Sherlock asks her. John turns to Mrs Hudson and points out of the window at the car outside,
"Whose car is that?" He looks at you. As if! I wish it was mine!
"That's my car." Mrs Hudson answers.
"How can that be your car?!"
"Oh, for God's sake! I'm the widow of a drug dealer, I own property in central London and for the last bloody time, John, I'm not your housekeeper." In the living room, Sherlock stands with his back to one of the chairs, turns and looks at it then drops heavily onto it, grimacing. Mrs Hudson walks to the front door and shuts it. The therapist approaches John and says,
"I'm so sorry. I answered your phone. You were busy. I think you'll want to take it." John takes his phone from her,
"Uh, yes, hello?"
"Is this Doctor John Watson?" You hear someone ask from the other end of the line.
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"Culverton Smith. You've probably heard of me." John glances at the laptop,
"Uh, well yes." You hear Sherlock call from the end of the room,
"Get me a fresh glass of water, please. This one's filthy." You roll my eyes at him. He passes the vase to the therapist. You turn back to John.
"I mean, I'm aware of this morning's developments," Culverton continues.
"Yes. I'm sure he was being hilarious. Sorry, did you say all still meeting?"
"You, me and Mr Holmes. I've sent a car, should be outside. Mr Holmes gave me an address."
"Well, he couldn't have given you this one. It's-" The doorbell rings. John goes to the door and opens it.
"When you're ready," a man stood outside tells John. He gives him a small nod before the man walks back to a black limousine parked at the side of the road. John closes the door.
"When did Sherlock give you this address?"
"Two weeks ago."
"Two weeks ago?"
"Yes, two weeks." John hangs up after that. He walks over towards Mrs Hudson and asks her,
"How did you know where to find me?"
"Oh, Sherlock told me. He's not so difficult when you've got a gun on him." John turns then walks into the living room, Sherlock is still sat in the chair with his eyes closed.
"How did you know?" John asks him loudly. "How? On Monday I decided to get a new therapist. Tuesday afternoon, I chose her-" He points at the therapist in the corner. "Wednesday morning I booked today's session. Now, today is Friday. So two weeks ago – two weeks before you were abducted at gunpoint and brought here against your will over a week before I even thought of coming here, you knew exactly where you'd need to be picked up for lunch?" Sherlock looks up at the ceiling,
"Really? I correctly anticipated the responses of people I know well to scenarios I devised? Can't everyone do that?"
"How?" Mrs Hudson asks.
"Except the boot. The boot was mean." Sherlock says pointing towards the car.
"Never mind how. He's dying to tell us that. I want to know why."
"Because Mrs Hudson's right. I'm burning up." John turns to him and straightens. "I'm at the bottom of a pit and I'm still falling and-" He shakes his head and his eyes are closed tightly. "-I'm never climbing out." Mrs Hudson turns away sadly and goes back into the kitchen. Sherlock stands up, "I need you to know, John I need you to see that up here-" He gestures to his head. "I've still got it, so when I tell you that this-" He walks to the table and points at the laptop. "-is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered, when I tell you that this, this monster must be ended, please remember where you're standing, because... you're standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago." Grimacing, he sits back down. "I'm a mess. I'm in hell. But I am not wrong, not about him."
"So what has all this got to do with me?" John asks him.
"That creature, that rotting thing, is a living breathing coagulation of human evil, and if the only thing I ever do in this world is drive him out of it, then my life will not have been wasted." Is that what he thinks? That so far his life has been wasted? You shake your head. "Look at me. Can't do it, not now. Not alone." He admits, looking away from John. John holds out his hand towards Sherlock. Sherlock stands up and takes his hand. Instantly John holds Sherlock's arm with his other hand and turns it over. Sherlock rolls his eyes as John pushes up the sleeve of his dressing gown and shirt to reveal all the dark marks on the underside of his arm where he's been injecting himself. You wince just looking at them. John releases his arm,
"Yeah, well, they're real enough, I suppose."
"Why would I be faking?"
"Because you're a liar. You lie all the time. It's like your mission."
"I have been many things, John, but when have I ever been a malingerer?"
"You pretended to be dead for two years!" Sherlock pauses at that comment,
"Apart from that?"
"Listen, before I do anything, I need to know what state you're in."
"Well, you're a doctor. Examine me." Sherlock sits down again.
"No, I need a second opinion."
"Oh, John, calm down. When have you ever managed two opinions? You'd fall over." You frown at him.
"I need the one person who, unlike me, learned to see through your bullshit long ago."
"Who's that, then? I'm sure I would have noticed."
"The last person you'd think of. I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper. D'you hear me? I said Molly Hooper." Sherlock looks down cringing at little,
"You're really not gonna like this."
"Like what?" The doorbell rings. Oh my God. If that's who I think it is I'll kill him - let alone John.