"Shit" Sherlock mumbled as his hands shook. Wrapping the belt he used as a makeshift tourniquet around his arm. He laid out the supplies, conducting himself with the precision he would an experiment. Everything was ready, most of all Sherlock. It had been awhile since he used, promising the Yard that he was clean. He slipped up every once and awhile, needing the feeling of drugs more than anything. Sherlock times everything perfectly to make sure he was never caught, at this point even the random drug testing was few and far between. He hid the supplies so that they were never found on the drug sweeps Lestrade conducted. But, here he was, again shooting up in his living room.

Come on, stupid hand stop shaking. There's five hours until John gets home. Enough time for this, and give me a chance to enjoy this before hiding everything as the high wears down. If only you would bloody stop shaking! Sherlock knew the only thing that would stop this shaking now is the sweet rush in his veins. Finally! He thought as his hand gave in, he felt the familiar pinch of of the needle, pushing the plunger down he let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. Unwrapping the belt he threw everything on the table and laid back. Waiting.

The high kicked in, he could feel in in his head as everything calmed down. He swore he could feel the cocaine in every vein and artery and cell in his body. One by one his nerves relaxing. Closing his eyes he let the high move through him. His mind stopped, like he knew it would, and he was content just being. The guilt, the hiding, the lying; everything else would come later, but right now none of it mattered. Sherlock was so lost in the feeling of the drug he hadn't partaken in a few weeks that he almost didn't hear the click of the door.

"FUCK" John yelled as he opened the door to the flat. Seeing Sherlock laying on the couch was nothing new, but the belt, the bag of white power, he needle, all of it was too much. John knew exactly what Sherlock had done.

Dropping his bag and coat on the floor John slammed the door as he rushed to Sherlock. An odd feeling of satisfaction as he saw his flatmate jump at the sound.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Well, I was taking a nap until you so rudely interrupted." Sherlock responded. "Why are you home so early?"

"I only had one patient for the afternoon so I rescheduled her to tomorrow to have after lunch off. Clearly, that was a good idea. No changing the subject. What. Are. You. Doing."

"You already know the answer to that." Sherlock replied, eyes still closed.

"Fine. Why?"

"You won't understand"

"Try me"

"I needed it"

"Hah." John couldn't help the quick laugh that came from his mouth. "What godforsaken reason do you have for needing something that has so distinctly ruined your life already?"

"See. You don't get it. Now, if you will excuse me I'm going to get back to my nap." Sherlock enunciated as he turned to get up to head to his room.

Sherlock reached for the supplies on his table as an instinct, to take them back with him. John took the opportunity to push Sherlock back onto the couch. The high making the detective unsteady on his feet. John grabbed everything on the table before him, walking to the other room, throwing it into a towel then trash bag. Sherlock heard footsteps up to his room. I'll take them back later.

"No you will not. You will not go into my room. You will not go into your room until this wears off. You will not lie to me about this. You will, however, tell me why you did it, how long you've been off the wagon, and will show me your arms."

"Being presumptuous are we?" Looking at John, clearly in military mode, standing over him with an air of dominance. Eyes filled with rage, concern, and determination.

"No. I'm laying down the rules that you clearly need. And you will tell me."

"I will not." Man, he really knows how to kill a buzz.

"You will now, or I will not only call Lestrade I will call Mycroft." Worth a try, I'll probably tell them anyway, at least Mycroft. He has a right to know.

"You wouldn't" Sherlock replied, sounding more scared than he intended. Mycroft probably already knows with his 'surveillance' but I need the cases from the Yard. I'll go crazy without the puzzle. It'll be your fault John.

"Are you willing to take that risk?" I really don't want to do this. I hate being the bad guy.

"Fine. But make it known that I am not complying willingly." Damn it.

"So noted. Now talk." John replied as he slumped down in his chair.

A/N: Let me know what you think. if you like the story i will keep posting if you don't then it can end here. there is a lot of angst, some broken sherlock, some crimes, and a bit of fluff in the later chapters. no i don't write smut so please don't even ask. but let me know what you think!