Suspicions

Sherlock Holmes was an addict. This isn't a lie or false truth, Sherlock Holmes is an addict. Not was, he is an addict, that didn't extend as far as drugs at the present moment, but the addict was still inside of him, it always would be. Greg's superior's knew from day one, after he solved a case high, after insisting he attend a rehabilitation programme before he even began to consult for them officially. According to them, a junkie consultant would only cause trouble and because of this Greg had to keep extra watch on him. He was Sherlock's friend, even if the bastard still didn't know his name, he watched out for him, to make sure he didn't fall back into bad habits.

Substance abuse was a bitch of a habit to kick, he could relate to his own reliance on cigarettes. Although, Sherlock didn't tend to anything by halves when it came to drugs, cocaine and heroin, combined with three overdoses in the space of a year.

Greg did his best, as did Mycroft. The Elder Holmes watched over his brother using CCTV, bugs and agents despite their complicated relationship. Greg would have meetings with Mycroft to discuss Sherlock, meetings that would keep the pair of them in the loop.

The arrival of John Watson changed something for the consulting detective. With the ex-army doctors input Sherlock seemed to be improving. He was a good influence on the man, even after the fall with Mary as help. The pair of them worked well together to keep Sherlock continually in the right.

Even the folks at Scotland Yard seemed to understand, they would always try to keep him away from any drug related cases. And look out to make sure that he didn't slip into bad habits. When he reaches the first mark people relax and trust him more, the years pass and the trust grows.

However the fear is always there. So when Sherlock assists with a double suicide where one of the victims has ingested a very strong poison then passed it onto their lover via snogging, without insulting one member of the yard or making a comment on how love is a dangerous disadvantage, with the bodies as proof, Greg is suspicious. There wasn't a single muttered 'idiot' under his breath, not even to Anderson, who was actually being rather stupid today.

Sherlock was, it can only be described, as in good spirit, cheery even, texting occasionally, even smirking when the response came through. The smile seemed out of place on his usual harsh face, pale skin, lips normally tight, dark hair windswept.

Greg pulls Sherlock aside, giving the consulting detective a look over before asking. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine" Sherlock response is clipped, his expression slightly blank, grey eyes narrowing at the greying detective. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You just seem…happier" he responded, noticing how Sherlock fiddled with his phone in his leather gloved hands, his eyes are dilated.

"Yes, I suppose I am" Sherlock spoke hesitantly, eyes flicking between Greg and the phone. He looked at the pavement, mumbling, words barely audible. "I'm seeing a consultant."

Greg barely caught what Sherlock had said, eyes widening slightly in shock, giving a small nod. "Who is it?" he asked surprise evident in his voice.

Sherlock looked up at him. "A consultant, we met on a case, the input was valuable."

"Oh" Greg seemed slightly disappointed but not shocked. He managed a smile, it didn't really surprise him that Sherlock was not 'seeing someone' but instead seeing someone that helped with the work, that was exactly what he was, the work. "Well, I suppose that's good, I mean good, now that John can't be here all the time. It's good that you've found someone else to consult with."

Greg let Sherlock go with a small smile on his face, watching at the curly haired consulting detective walked away, texting wildly with the phone in his hand.

The new nicer Sherlock lasted for another two weeks; it was worrying to the team, even John when he came along to crime scenes didn't know exactly how to react to this. They both put it down to his association with this unknown consultant, who they were curious about. It wasn't till they were at the scene of a particularly viscous murder, a woman in her mid-twenties, dark hair, stabbed eleven times that they encountered something even weirder than the nice Sherlock.

Sherlock is stood over the body, looking edgier than usual, his eyes glassed over and expression as blank as possible. He looks deeply affected by the victim, more so than they had ever seen him, his eyes hovering over the various wounds to the victims torso.

Anderson makes a snide comment when Sherlock's phone starts ringing again, the fifth time in the past six minutes, the consulting detective is purposely ignoring the phone in favour of staring at the body. A syringe in placed on the coffee table, a new syringe placed beside it, the girl was going to shoot up before she was murdered.

Sally sighed when Sherlock's phone began to ring again, looking at John and Lestrade. "Why doesn't he just answer it?" She asked them, hoping they would know, her voice tainted slightly by concern.

Lestrade shrugged, exhaling a large breath while John shook his head. "I'd say Mycroft but he'd answer long enough to insult him" John guessed, voice hushed as they watched Sherlock look blankly at the crime scene.

Greg opened his mouth to chip in when his phone started ringing, he fumbled to find it in his jacket pocket, bringing it to his ear.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade" a female voice addressed him. "Would you please tell Sherlock to answer his phone?"

Greg stood confused. "Who are you?" he managed to ask after a period of silence, meeting the eyes of an equally confused John Watson and Sally Donovan.

"A concerned party" the voice responded, it was attractive even over the phone; he couldn't help but picture the woman on the other side of the phone. He had no doubt that she would be beautiful. "Tell Sherlock to answer his phone or pass me over, whichever is most convenient."

Greg lowered the phone slightly, looking over at the still form of the consulting detective. "Sherlock" he addressed, watching him turn to face him, grey eyes wide if not slightly confused. "There's a woman on the phone, told me to tell you to pick up your phone."

Sherlock gave a small nod of the head, picking the phone out of his pocket and walking out of the room without another word. Greg replaced the phone to his ear. "Thank you Detective Inspector, your help is very much appreciated."

"Is he ok?" Greg asked, he wasn't as stupid as people obviously thought. He noticed the drugs and how Sherlock had reacted when seeing the body; it was pained, something personal.

The voice paused for a moment, considering it. "He will be, I'm sure we'll meet soon."

Greg put the phone back into her pocket, still confused to exactly what had happened. He exchanged a glance with John, confused. "Do you think he'll relapse?"

"I don't know, he seemed pretty shaken up" John admitted. "We have to do something."

Greg nodded as John dialled for Mycroft. If they're going to do this then they will need reinforcements.

By the time they all arrived at the flat it was far too late to get the drugs squad involved, instead they were working with volunteers. Greg, Sally and Phillip were representing the Yard, along with two other Yarders, one girl and another guy. John and Mary were also involved, less so on the search for drugs but there to support Sherlock. If he was back on drugs then he would need all the support in the world to kick the habit again.

Mycroft and Anthea arrived promptly, following the Yarders as they broke into the flat, with John and Mary. Sherlock storms out of his bedroom when they break into the flat, slamming the door shut behind him and tying his blue silk dressing gown tight around his body. Underneath he is wearing his usual shirt and trousers, at least five buttons undone but covered by his dressing gown. He glares angrily at them. "What are you doing here?" he demands. "I told you that I'd continue to work the case tomorrow."

Anderson eyes up the consulting detective slightly before walking into the flat to begin searching. When John, Mary and Mycroft (followed by Anthea) appear in the hallway he looks at them with a death glare. Grey eyes fixed on them, breathing heavily. "Of course, you're all in on this" he spat.

"We just want to help Sherlock" John starts, worried.

Mary nods, hand still linked with John as she continues for John. "We're worried about you, you haven't been acting like yourself."

"I've been happier than usual according to Lestrade, I was unaware that was a crime" he spat, raising his voice.

"How could you?" questioned Mycroft, his face flushed with a mixture of disappointment and concern.

"I am not using!" he said firmly, still facing them all.

"Then how do you explain your recent behaviour" Mycroft started, eyes flicking momentarily to Greg and John. "Dilated pupils, unusually happy then there was your performance today, ten minutes at a crime scene and all you did was stare aimlessly at the body, glazed eyes. The mysterious woman who called you repeatedly, then called Gregory just to get you to talk to her, is she your dealer?"

"I am not using!" Sherlock shouted, repeating his earlier statement. He inhale loudly, head bowed trying to calm himself. "It's late, I want to go to bed, and so can you please leave."

"Did you just say please?" John asked, confused.

Sherlock turned as to go back into his room. "We haven't checked in there Sir" Sally announced, causing Sherlock to stop and spin back round to face them.

Mycroft cleared his throat politely. "Your bedroom door is shut" he observed, gesturing to the door with his umbrella. Sherlock sighed but didn't respond. "You've been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so now on this occasion?" He took a step down the hallway closer to the door.

"Okay, stop! Just stop." The consulting detective said, making sure to step backwards, closer to the door, like a barricade keeping them all out. Mycroft raises a brow, taking another step. "Point made" declares.

"Jesus Sherlock" John manages, running a hand through his greying blonde hair.

"It's not what you think" he attempts to argue, eyes seeking out someone who to believe him.

"Well, then Sherlock, you're not back on the sauce?" he asked, disbelievingly.

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but closed it when the opening of his bedroom door behind him interrupted. All eyes went immediately to the underwear clad woman standing in Sherlock's doorway with a faintly amused smile on her face as she lent herself against the doorway.