47 - Complex

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Edit: I hadn't realised it was Benedict Cumberbatch's birthday today so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HIM 🎈🎁🎂🎁🎈
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After Sherlock had disappeared into his room, their mini celebration quietened down rapidly. Lestrade and Molly left for their homes, Mrs Hudson had popped downstairs to her flat, Jeanette remained cuddled on the couch with a worried John and Elizabeth lingered in the kitchen, fiddling with the ring on her index finger as she considered whether to try and talk to Sherlock again or not.

Even the thought of Irene being dead shook her. What if it had been her fault? Irene had said that she was supposed to persuade Elizabeth to join Jim again and had said that he had threatened her. What if, in turning Jim down, that had gotten her killed?

And she had been doing so well over the past few months only to be met with the stress of overthinking once again.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock was the one to appear from out of his bedroom. He moved like a ghost but everyone could see him.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" Elizabeth tried asking him again.

But she was ignored as he walked with purpose to the coat stand. He put on his coat and scarf. Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder but he didn't react to it. He didn't even tense, didn't shrug it off, nothing - like he couldn't feel her that at all. He just continued to put on his gloves.

"Mate, you know you can talk to us." John tried to speak to him also.

But the doctor was also met with silence. The detective just made his way down the stairs and out of the flat, slamming the front door behind him.

Elizabeth shared a troubled look with John. Mrs Hudson even made her way upstairs to enquire about what had happened and they had simply explained how he left so abruptly.

John's phone buzzed and he shuffled beside Jeanette to get it from his trousers pocket. It was a text from Mycroft:

~Danger night. Check the flat. - M.H.~

John apologised to Jeanette as he got up quickly, "Mrs Hudson, can you check Sherlock's usual spaces in his bedroom?"

"Oh, are you sure, dear?"

"Yes," John affirmed, "Mycroft's said."

Mrs Hudson quickly made her way into Sherlock's room to check for any mysterious substances that could or could not be drugs.

Elizabeth frowned, "Danger night? Usual places? What are you talking about, John?"

A look of realisation hit John as he realised that Elizabeth was still clueless. He looked back at Jeanette as well, whose arms were crossed as she expectantly awaited an answer alongside. Looking back to Elizabeth again he sighed.

"This won't be how Sherlock will want you to find out. In fact, he probabaly didn't want you to know at all but - he has a drug problem."

"Sherlock? A drug problem?" Elizabeth looked at John as though he were speaking in tongues, "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. He says he is a 'user' rather than an 'addict' but it's essentially the same thing. He does well not to but tends to have bad relapses after an - emotional shock of sorts."

"Knowing Irene's dead..."

"Yeah. He has usual places round the flat where he keeps his stashes."

"Jesus..."

"Yep. And I found out the day after I met him."

"Where do I look?"

"Anywhere and everywhere. He could have new places or he may stick to old ones, you never know."

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