John stood angrily in front of detective inspector Lestrade. "Sherlock Holmes on a drug case?" He shouted.
"He's done it before" Lestrade protested.
"That wasn't a drug, it was poison!" John threw his arms to his side. "Tell him the case is solved, I don't want him anywhere near this kind of thing." John held back tears. He remembered how he felt when he had found him in that drug den and the fear that had consumed him.
"I'll do what I can." Lestrade sighed, noticing the pain in Johns eyes.
Sherlock stood outside the door, hesitant to go in. Did he look high? Would he act high? He took out the small vile of eye drops from his pants pocket and let a few drip into each eye. As soon as they were back in his pocket the door flung open. John collected his anger as he saw Sherlock. "Case is solved." He forced a laugh.
"How can you solve a case without me?" Sherlock smirked, forgetting the rule of not talking. "You need me."
"Lestrade had Anderson take it last night" John lied through his teeth.
"Anderson" Sherlock mumbled. "Probably got it all wrong, let me take a check"
"No he got it." John nodded "I checked" he wrapped his arm around Sherlock. "Where's your coat?"
"Sherlock Holmes walking around London without his coat?" Lestrade questioned from behind them.
Sherlock himself struggled to remember where it was but he came up with a quick lie. "It gets dirty."
"Why don't you get going back home Sherlock, Mary and I will be by later" John patted his back and Sherlock left.
John turned to Lestrade. Fear was consuming him as he recalled the previous drug incident "Was he acting weird to you?"
"He's always weird" Lestrade reminded him. "Now who am I going to get to solve my case, I'm not letting Anderson do this on his own"
"I'll do it" John offered. "What do I need to know?"
"You already know the just I take it, Molly is working on a cure, an antidote to it. But you need to arrest the-"
Lestrade was interrupted by Anderson's arrival. "I'm working with John?" He asked.
"So it seems. Any news?" Lestrade opened up his laptop to type.
"Half of London are in the hospital for this drug, half of those don't even remember taking it." Anderson sat on the cold black leather chair in front of Lestrade's desk. "Half if them are dead"
"Half of London?" John sat beside Anderson. "Whose doing it?"
"We don't know." Anderson sighed. "That's why we needed Sherlock"
"Well you'll have to settle with me." John folded his arms.
"After that last fiasco I understand." Anderson nodded. "Go home, be with your family, I'll call you if we find anything"
John got up and left. As he walked through the streets he noticed people, he noticed the way they held themselves, and the way some seemed to walk like zombies. They all seemed happy however. Drugged? He thought. His mind caught Sherlock, walking down the street, zombified like the rest. John did a double take only to see just a typical London male not Sherlock. Sherlock was clean, although it fought with his better judgement he trusted him this time.