When they got into 221b Baker Street John turned away from Sherlock. He was embarrassed for his friend to see him like that. He used to respect him as a soldier now he would see him as a snivelling coward. Something broken and unwanted, more of a hindrance than a help.

"John…"

"What?" he replied with venom. "Why do you care Sherlock? Why don't you just give up and leave me? I'm useless. We lost that man today, that murderer because of me. If he goes out and more people die it will be my fault because you would have caught him. I stopped you Sherlock.I keep stopping you from doing your job. Why don't you just go?" He shouted the last words swiping his arm across the table sliding Sherlock's laptop onto the floor, cracking the screen. He charged to the kitchen throwing the equipment smashing them against the walls, destroying Sherlock's experiments.

Sherlock stood for a moment in shock watching what this had done to his friend. He'd been involved in all those cases over the years. Solving them and then never giving them a moment's thought again. He'd never thought about the aftermath, what the case meant for the people involved. He understood why people thought he was a psychopath, he'd never understood, until now. He strode over to John wrapping his arms around him restraining him. He could feel his body writhing against his. He could hear his curses aimed at him. He kept struggling, John's hands trying to prise Sherlock off him. John then tried to kick the back of his legs but he was held fast. Sherlock felt himself go into a daze, this couldn't be happening, this nightmare couldn't be real. He was broken from his trance off by the sudden silence. John's body collapsed, his legs refused to hold him anymore. He felt like a dead weight in Sherlock's arms. He could hear his snuffling, John's whole body heaving heavily.

Sherlock half carried half dragged John to the sofa laying him down gently. John immediately turned away from him nuzzling his face into the back of the sofa. Sherlock hovered for a moment unsure what to do before lowering himself onto the sofa, in between the crook of John's legs reaching out his arm and began to slowly stroke his back.

John couldn't help but flinch, the touch sending a bolt of paralysis down his spine. He felt sick, he felt tired and he felt scared. He just wanted to be able to relax to live normally again, to be back to how things were before. How can one encounter have such a destructive effect on his life? He felt the sofa rise slightly as Sherlock stood up. It wasn't long before he heard the gentle chinking of the glass being cleared away. He couldn't stay like this forever. He's going to have to move and face up to what he'd done eventually.

He rolled over swinging his legs over the sofa still wincing slightly from the movement. As he reached out to the table to pull himself up, he felt a slight stinging in his hands. He held them under the light to see a number of cuts. Most of them weren't deep enough to bleed and the ones that were, were clotting already. He sighed, his whole body slumping as he walking over the first aid kit.

"I need help," he thought to himself as he tightly wrapped the bandage around his hand. He still has his old councillors number he could call her again, arrange an appointment. What could she do anyway? Last time all she did was tell him to write a blog. It wasn't her that helped him in the end it was Sherlock and he wasn't helping with this. After the examination Sherlock had held onto him tight and promised he would find his attacker but it was as if he'd given up. Couldn't he call Mycroft, try and find footage or was he still too proud? John walked up to his room the thoughts swirling round and round his head. Maybe I should try and write the blog again.

The thought stuck in his mind as he opened his laptop. He was interrupted by a light tap on the door. "Come in," he replied, his voice sounding hoarse. Sherlock walked in, "Lestrade's just summoned me to a crime scene, do you want to come?" John shook his head, he was not going to stop Sherlock from doing his work again. He stared at the wall in a daze as he heard Sherlock run down the stairs slamming the front door behind him.

His attention turned again to the empty document. He took a deep breath and slowly started typing up the latest case.

AN - Sorry for the enormously long time it took to update. I've been so busy and when I do get the time to write I struggle to get back into it. I'm going away again today so there won't be another update for a while I'm afraid. I promise I will finish the story eventually. Thank for reading up to this point and being patient waiting for the chapter. Please review as it does really help with my writing.