Finally I'm ready to post the 'drug fic' that I've been promising you all for a while. It is based on Sherlock being in rehab so there are plenty of references to him being high, being on drugs, coming off them and maybe even relapsing so if that's not your thing this probably isn't for you. That being said I don't think it ever goes too dark (this is me after all) and there's plenty of light stuff and smut along the way. Be warned though Sherlock is an arse for quite a while!

Thanks must go to Lilsherlockian1975 as she has listened to ideas, made suggestions and endlessly supported me. Finally this is set after the events of season 4...how long must we wait for season 5 :(.

But enough with the author's notes...shall we get on.

Chapter 1

Sherlock felt like he was flying. His mind felt light and free and he was soaring up above London looking down on the tangled mess of roads and streets and alleyways all so familiar and yet so different. The lights swept together in a fun fair ride of colour and swirls and he held his hand up to try and catch at them, to see if he could hold them in the palm of his hand and he watched in fascination as his hand left trails of colour in its wake. But then the colour and the patterns gave way to a wash of blinding light making him wince in pain.

He groaned as it flashed again and again over his vision and he tried to push it away. This time his hands met something hard and soft at the same time and he pushed against it.

'Ow...Sherlock...Sherlock can you hear me? It's Molly. What did you take? Can you remember?'

His head hurt but at least she'd stopped flashing the light in his eyes. He rolled over, away from her closing up on himself in a fetal position trying to get back to that feeling of flying. If he could just get back there everything would be alright and the pain, the endless pain would fade away.

Two days earlier

Molly was relaxing at home in her flat when it happened. Toby had been curled up on her knee, she had had a cup of tea by her side and she had just reached a really good bit in her book, life was good...and then the door bell rang. For a moment she contemplated ignoring it but it was so rare for her to have visitors let alone ones who hadn't buzzed the main door to be let in. Maybe it was Mo Jenkins from next door needing to borrow something.

'Sorry Tobes,' she murmured to her cat as she shifted him off to one side but instead of resettling he stretched out and then jumped down following her to the door.

She ran her hands quickly through her hair wishing she'd brushed it after getting up that morning but she'd been enjoying a bit of a slob day. Anyway Mo wouldn't mind or probably even notice.

She opened the door smiling brightly only to find the smile slipping off her face as she recognised her visitor. 'Myc...Mister Holmes. How can I...is Sherlock alright?'

Her stomach had suddenly dropped with sudden fear that the only reason Mycroft Holmes would be calling on her would be to tell her of the death of his brother.

She saw his quick scan of her person, done almost as a matter of course, absent-mindedly even and it reminded her so much of Sherlock that she felt herself wince at the news that might follow. They had been reeling from one piece of bad news to another over the last year and Molly felt like she had hardly caught her breath since the last one.

'My brother is alive if that's your concern but I am unable to say that he is well. May I come in?'

It was only then that Molly realised she hadn't followed convention and invited him in. She stood back gesturing for him to enter and then glanced down at herself only to suppress a groan. She'd forgotten she was wearing her old sweat pants and t shirt. She must look a right mess. She followed the immaculately dressed Mycroft into her front room and then offered him tea or coffee.

'Tea if you don't mind; and maybe a biscuit if you have one.'

He glanced around her open plan front room as she made her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

'I trust my men didn't cause any damage when they removed the cameras that my sister had had installed.'

Molly grimaced at the memory and rolled her eyes at how matter of fact Mycroft could be about it. She had felt emotionally and physically violated when she had heard that Eurus had been spying on her. Coming as it had the day after that gut-wrenching phone call from Sherlock she had found it hard to forgive any of the Holmeses for their impact on her life. So much so that she hadn't even seen Sherlock since that call. She knew why he'd had to make it, John had eventually come round to explain after Molly had repeatedly refused to see Sherlock and when she had texted him asking him to refrain from coming to Barts for a while he had at least respected her wishes. She wondered if that's why Mycroft was here...maybe he'd been sent to plead his brother's cause.

She poured out the water and finished making the tea, adding it to a tray which now also bore a plate of biscuits and then joined him in the living room.

'So Mister Holmes, why are you here?'

'Please call me Mycroft. I think, given your involvement with my brother over recent years we can be less formal than that.'

'Fine, why are you here Mycroft? If it's about Sherlock using Barts...'

'It's not, it's more personal than that.'

That took Molly by surprise and she sat down waiting for him to continue.

'As you know my brother has been through a lot in the last twelve months. First he was shot, then he was almost sent on a suicide mission, Mrs Watson was killed and finally he found out that not only did he have a sister but that she had killed his childhood friend. It has taken a toll on him and it's one that Dr Watson and myself have been struggling to cope with over the last three weeks. I know that you have been distancing yourself from Sherlock in recent times but I find myself in need of your help.'

'Go on.' Molly could feel her heart aching at the news that Sherlock was in a bad place. She had seen John and babysat Rosie a few times recently but each time he had tried to mention Sherlock she had shut him down, she just hadn't been ready to discuss him.

'He's always been susceptible to addiction, ever since he was a teenager, but in recent years he's had an element of control over it. Even when he was using earlier this year after Mrs Watson's death he had his own supply and a young gentlemen...' he sniffed and looked, for a moment, as though he'd trodden in something disgusting. '...a Mr Wiggins, helping him regulate the dosage and ensure quality. I fear however that he is now out of control. Mrs Hudson, John and myself have tried keeping him at Baker St, tried to talk to him and reduce his usage but it has been to no avail. None of us seem to be able to get through to him.'

Molly frowned in confusion she still didn't see where she fitted in to the plan. 'What about rehab? Hasn't he been there before?'

'He has and that's exactly why they won't have him there again. He has been to numerous establishments and word has spread. None of the private facilities will take him and the public ones are not only useless but the waiting lists are prohibitively long.'

'So, what do you think I can do?'

Molly didn't say that in an offering sense but in more of a disbelieving sense. She still wasn't sure what it was he was expecting of her.

'I want my brother to leave London for a while. To go away, maybe to the countryside, to get some fresh air so to speak and separate himself from bad habits and local dealers. Dr Watson is unable to accompany him as he has his young daughter...'

Molly suddenly realised where this was going. 'Wait, no, I can't go with him. Why on earth would you think of me?'

'Why wouldn't I? My brother has few acquaintances and even fewer friends. I am needed in London, Dr Watson has his daughter and ideally I would prefer someone with him who has medical training. Plus my brother has what I would call a...yes, a soft spot for you. I think he would do things for you that he wouldn't for anyone else. You must know that already.'

'No, no I don't think I do know that... but I mean, why should I do anything to help him?'

Mycroft sighed and for the first time Molly saw his sadness and her stomach swooped with fear once more. He was scared, genuinely scared for Sherlock.

'Because Doctor Hooper if you don't I think he might die.'

There was a silence between them as Molly took that in. She believed him implicitly. She knew what Sherlock could be like when he was on drugs and the damage it wreaked on his body. She remembered her examination of him in that ambulance when he was in the middle of the Culverton Smith case. For all his sarcasm and disregard he was seriously ill. Weeks of drug use had taken its toll, not only on his body but also on his spirit as well. There had been a look in his eyes, a shadow there that was unmistakeable. She knew she could never walk away and leave him to die and she knew that Mycroft knew that.

She took a deep breath, her mind made up, not that she was happy about it. 'Fine, what do you need me to do?'

'Find a place for yourself and Sherlock, somewhere far from London where you can help him detox. All your expenses will be paid, you'll have a supply of methadone to help wean him off the heroin and you just have to ask if you need anything else. Sort out time off work and text me the address and I'll have Sherlock delivered to you in 36 hours.'

He passed her a black business card with nothing but his name and a mobile number on it and she took it feeling numb and a little shocked. Her mind was already thinking of all the things she'd need to do. Looked like her lazy home day was already a distant memory.

Mycroft stood, then bent and took a last biscuit and Molly stood with him.

She walked with him to the door and as he crossed the threshold he paused and turned back. 'Thank you Doctor Hooper. I'm sure I don't need to say how much I hope you can get through to him. He refuses to acknowledge it but I would be bereft if I were to lose him.'

She nodded her head and watched as he walked away. When she closed the door she leant her back against it and took a deep breath, what the hell had she just agreed to? Here she had been trying to distance herself from him and now it looked like she was going to be thrust into some weird house share with him.

She tried to think of somewhere suitable and then spent the next few hours researching cottages for rent in a little village just outside Andover where she had lived for ten years until her parents had moved away when she was eighteen. She had left for university around the same time and had never been back but it seemed like the ideal location. Plus she still had a couple of relatives there and probably some of her old friends, it would be nice to see how they and the place were doing.

Luckily there was a small two bedroom, terraced cottage about five minutes walk from the small row of shops and the village pub. She sent the details through to Mycroft and then set about contacting Mike at Barts, sorting out cover for Toby and packing her bags.

That's the set up done, Molly and Sherlock off together for a romantic...hang on, sorry, for rehab together. How do you like the sound of it so far? xxx