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Help

trigger warnings. im sorry guise.

"What...What the hell are those?" John didn't notice that his fingers were trembling.

Sherlock realized everything too late and then struggled to cover it all up.

"I'm not an idiot, Sherlock. I know track marks when I see them."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, of course you don't. Of course...you absolute prick."

The words stung Sherlock, kind of like the familiar sting of the syringe. He chuckled a bit at the comparison which made John's cheeks go red.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been doing this?"

Sherlock shrugged. "A couple months."

John inhaled. "We need to call someone. You need to call a helpline."

"No! John, you don't understand."

"I don't understand?" He exhaled.

"I need it, I need it."

"I know you do, and that's why you need help before I--" John stopped, paused.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

"Before I lose you."

He scoffed, "Like you even need me in your life. I'm worthless. And stupid. I don't deserve you."

"Stop."

"John, I'm a psychopath."

"That doesn't mean anything to me," he growled. Sherlock rolled his inky black eyes, constricting the loose skin around them.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sherlock stood, and John reached out, catching him. Just like he always did.

"Sherlock."

"Let me go." He tore his wrist away from John's warm, gentle fingers.

And then Sherlock left with a slam of the coffee shop door and a whish of his coat.

A/N : )))))))))) ily