A/N: this episode hurt a lot. I'm still not over it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary.

(And also, if anyone's confused, I changed my username from dontforget2live to intotheyellowwoods because I've hated my old username for a while so yeah.)

Sherlock doesn't stumble home until one o'clock.

The streetlights are on but everything else is dark as he stumbles up to the door and knocks with a weak hand. His knees are threatening to give out, his hands are trembling and his head feels like it's made of lead, but no amount of heroin could get rid of the pain deep-seated in his brain. No amount of heroin could get Oscar's face out of his mind or make him forget how much he hates himself right now.

Joan answers a horrible eternity later, still dressed in her day clothes. He can see the concern set into her eyes blow wide as she takes him in; they widen as they take in the flushed cheeks, the constricted pupils, the way he's using the doorframe to hold himself up, and he watches pity fracture beneath brown irises. She sucks her lips into her mouth and stares up at him almost pleading, and Sherlock feels something inside him crumble.

"Sherlock," she breathes, reaching a hesitant hand up towards him. "No, Sherlock, you didn't—"

"I'm sorry," he whispers brokenly. His hand digs into the doorframe for purchase, but he's still so close to falling in a way entirely separate from shooting up. "I'm sorry, Watson." She opens the door farther and guides him inside gently, shutting the door behind her with a bang. "I'm sorry, Watson, I failed."

His knees give out. Somewhere far away, he can hear himself sniffling. "I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm just—" Not strong enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough. A failure, despite everything else.

Joan wraps her arms around him, and he lets himself fall into her. Her body is so small and delicate, but she's still so much stronger than him. "I'm sorry, Watson, I didn't mean to," he says, and he's sobbing into her neck now, and it's pathetic—just like the rest of him—but he can't stop.

"It's okay," she whispers, her voice shaking as she tugs him closer, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, Sherlock, you can get through this. We can get through this."

But no, it's not okay. It will never be okay, no matter how much Joan wants to pretend otherwise. Everything changed from the moment he stuck that needle into his arm, and he knew it.

Once an addict, always an addict. Isn't that the horrible truth of it? A sickening means to a sickening end. Oscar had been right all along. No matter how much he tries to pretend otherwise, no matter how smart he pretends to be, he will always be an addict. He will always fall.

Heroes always fall, someone had once told him. And though he'd never been a hero, God, did he fall.

WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF

*wails because sad!angsty!Sherlock*