Author's note: First Sherlock fic, be nice please
Disclaimer: -Hiss- If only
Warning: Um… drug endued OOCness and mild slash if you squint.

Sherlock Sees a Unicorn

Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.

Normally Sherlock Holmes was satisfied with just his nicotine patches to keep him focused during a case, but in the last few weeks there had been no cases to be focused on so now he was getting bored. He hated it, he hated being bored, and he hated that John Watson was not allowing him to do anything about his boredom.

So now Sherlock had to sneak something to amuse himself. Sherlock Holmes was not being reckless, he was merely curious. He had prepared the drug himself rather than rely on some half-witted addict on the street to concoct a dosage for him, those kind of people were too stupid to trust.

The hardest part was sneaking all the ingredients passed John and Mrs. Hudson, then preparing them without drawing the former army-doctor's attention. Fortunately for Sherlock, John Watson had an inexplicable need for the occasional social interaction with someone other than himself. John was out on one such interaction tonight, thank God, and Sherlock's dosage of LSD was ready to be sampled.

Carefully injecting himself with a small dosage from a syringe, Sherlock leaned back in his chair, awaiting the drug to take effect.

He waited.

And waited.

Nothing appeared to be happening. Perhaps he did not use a high enough dosage? Sherlock reached for the syringe to try some more of the drug. It was then that he spotted something very strange in his flat.

It was a unicorn. Not a 'modern' unicorn, the kind with wild manes that sparkled every color of the rainbow and were associated with sweets and happiness, but a real unicorn. She was white as virgin snow, Sherlock could tell that the unicorn was female as she walked steadily through the flat. The unicorn's body was lithe and graceful, more like that of a deer than a horse. Her mane did shimmer as the silver strands caught the stray lights from lamps across the flat and her horn was long and sharp, spanning almost a full foot over her head which seemed almost too small to carry it.

Part of Sherlock was very much aware that what he was seeing was completely the effect of the drug he had injected himself with, but the rest of him was completely awestricken with the majesty of this creature that had suddenly just appeared in his flat. The unicorn wandered around completely unaware of him, eventually making her way to standing just in front of the telly. In his drug addled state, Sherlock was overcome with the urge, no desire, to go over and touch the beautiful creature.

Standing awkwardly, Sherlock found that his legs failed to have as much coordination as he would have liked. A small part of him thought that was worrisome, but overall Sherlock was too enamored with his vision of the unicorn to really care. The unicorn had moved again and was now standing at the window overlooking Baker Street down below, Sherlock stumbled over to her and at last the unicorn seemed to realize that he was there. She turned her head to him and Sherlock was confounded by the full front of her beauty. It was her eyes, they were pale blue and full of… Intelligence? Those eyes seemed almost human.

Sherlock reached a hand out to stoke the unicorn, she was soft. So very soft, Sherlock could think of nothing to compare to how soft the unicorn was, nothing at all.

It was then that Sherlock heard a door close and the tell-tale sounds of John returning home from his date. The other man was just putting his coat away for the night when he spotted Sherlock by the window with his hand reaching out to touch what appeared to be nothing more than empty air to John. "Sherlock?" He called, "Sherlock, are alright?"

Somehow John's voice managed to break whatever bewitchment had been put on Sherlock by the drug. He turned to his flatmate, "I'm fine." He croaked before turning back to the unicorn.

Only to find that she was gone.

It was probably just another effect of the drug, but Sherlock felt suddenly disheartened by the disappearance of his unicorn. "No," he moaned, falling back onto the floor of the flat, "Come back."

John heard Sherlock calling and mistook his cries as Sherlock calling for him, "I'm still right here Sherlock," He said, completely baffled by his flatmate's behavior, "Are you sure you're alright there Sherlock?"

Then Sherlock Holmes did the one thing John Watson would not have expected at that moment. He began to cry. It was only a sniffle at first, the sniffle turned into sob which was followed by tears and more sobbing. "Sherlock?" John gasped, running over to where the taller man was sitting.

"Make her come back John." Sherlock whined.

"I don't know what you're talking about, make who come back?" John was rightly confused until he took another look around the flat and discovered, to his irritation, a used syringe with god knows what inside it. "Sherlock, what did you do?"

"Please John, make the unicorn come back." Sherlock begged, clinging to John desperately, "Bring her back John."

The doctor tried to ignore his flatmate's cries for the unicorn as he picked Sherlock up and dragged him over to the bed, "Come on," John huffed as Sherlock made a feeble attempt to wander back over to the window, "Lay down. Jesus Christ, Sherlock what did you do to yourself?"

For the first time since John had come in, the detective stopped ranting about the unicorn and looked up with a serious face, "Bored John," he mumbled, "Made LSD. Where do you suppose the unicorn went?"

"The unicorn is gone Sherlock," The doctor sighed in aggravation, "You took LSD? Sherlock you… How could…" John was getting angrier with every word, "LSD? How could someone as brilliant as you be so stupid!"

Sherlock pouted like a child, John was unsure if that was because the unicorn was gone or because he had called the detective stupid. Either one was entirely possible. Tears rose up in Sherlock's eyes again, so John guessed that it had to be the unicorn. "She was so beautiful John."

Definitely the unicorn.

"Sherlock." John wanted to scold his flatmate, but with Sherlock still being so high the doctor doubted that it would do any real good. Not that scolding Sherlock Holmes did any good ever,

"I wish you could have seen her."

That was unexpected. Sherlock Holmes wishing John had seen the unicorn. Even though the whole experience had been in Sherlock's head, John felt quite flattered that a proper genius like Sherlock Holmes would want to share something as memorable as a unicorn sighting with the likes of him.

"I… Don't know what to say." John muttered, blushing ever so slightly, "I guess… I wish I'd seen her too."

Sherlock smiled, "You'd have liked her."

"I'm sure." John stood, "I'm going to make some tea, it'll be good for you."

"No!" Sherlock screamed, throwing himself off the bed and clutching John frantically, "Don't leave me!"

Taken by surprise, John fell to the floor, "Oof! Sherlock, I'm not going to go very far."

"Don't go, don't leave like the unicorn. Stay here." Sherlock was sobbing again.

John decided to go out on a limb and assume that Sherlock was hallucinating something really terrible, probably even frightening by how distraught the detective was becoming. "Alright, I'll stay, but you have to get back into bed." John proposed.

"Only if you stay."

"I said I would, now get into bed." John had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Thank you John, you're a good friend."

John blushed immensely at that comment. How many times had he been informed that Sherlock Holmes did not have friends? How many people warned him to stay away from the 'psychopath'? And yet here he was, taking care of a drugged up detective who had just referred to him as a good friend. If that was not a compliment, John did not know what it was.

"We'll just have to wait out your high," John mumbled as Sherlock crawled back into his bed and snuck under the covers, looking around wildly.

"John?"

"What is it Sherlock?" Perhaps he decided he wanted tea after all and would be willing to let John go make it.

"I want you to stay right here." Sherlock whimpered.

Without anymore warning, John found his hand locked in Sherlock's vice grip. Normally Sherlock would have nothing to do with physical contact, but it appeared the drugs were having quite the effect on him.

"I-I suppose I could… For a while." Keeping his hand still entwined with Sherlock's, John made himself as comfortable as he could on the edge of the bed.

Sherlock was silent for a long time something he was usually only good at doing when he was thinking about a particularly difficult case. Finally he spoke up again.

"The unicorn's back."