Old Habits

After the Moriarty terror, Sherlock has been thinking nonstop about him, until his only escape turns out to be a small white pill.

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9. 9

Cecelia had spent the morning convincing Sherlock to bring her back to his flat, which had been harder than expected, but after hours of coaxing he finally gave in. They arrived at 221b shortly after noon. Cecelia run up the stairs and threw herself onto the couch, Sherlock followed slowly behind, his head pounding as his mind palace slowly rebuilt itself as he sat sober. "Still have those pills?" Sherlock asked, wanting the headache to fade.

"Left them at my flat" Cecelia shrugged and apologized.

Sherlock shrugged back, digging deep into his chair, gently massaging his temples to lessen his splintering headache. Cecelia grinned as she removed Sherlocks coat, wrapping it back around his shoulders. She kissed the back of his head. "Mind if I go rest?" she asked.

Sherlock pointed down the hall to his room. "Night" he shouted as she stumbled off. Sherlock stood up and put on his coat which now reeked of cigarette smoke. He buried his head in it, letting the scent consume. A rattling came from his pocket. Sherlock dug in and pulled out a bright orange bottle filled with tiny white pills. They were different from the ones he had been taking. Sherlock worked at prying off the top, his hands shaking as he did so.

He examined the pill in his hand. It was tiny, extremely tiny. There was no engraving in it as he had seen on the others. "Don't you dare!" He heard Johns voice echo around the flat. Sherlock turned to the source only to find his familiar belongings. He brushed it off and opened his mouth. "Sherlock!" Again he was shocked by Johns voice. He stuck his tongue out, ignoring the shouting of his inner John. He set the pill on his tongue and felt it begin to fizz. He swallowed it quick and felt the hit instantly.

His mind palace shattered to pieces as he fell limp in his chair, his mind brushed back and forth in waves, crashing all over his body. His vision spun and a smile sprung up on his face. He watched the world slip away as he heard his friends yelling at him. You don't have friends. He reminded himself. They hate you, they despise you, they would be fine without you. You are dying. He thought about the chance of death an welcomed it.

He sunk deeper in his chair as he heard light foot steps walking toward him. His vision didn't focus however until the figure was right in front of him. It was Cecelia and her smile was wide and bright. "I knew you'd take it" she smiled. Sherlocks mind struggled to succumb to reality. "Yes Mr. Holmes I warned you I was smart." She restrained him from getting up. "Don't move, just let me speak." She laughed. Sherlocks eyes watched her blankly. "I tricked your brother, into thinking I could keep you safe, he pulled a little Moriarty trick and brought you back from the possible suicide mission. I remained close to him, letting him get the case resolved while I distracted you any means possible, including making you a simple druggie."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock mumbled, not fully understanding her rant.

"You're dying now Mr. Holmes" Cecelia laughed. "Mycroft just wanted you out of the way for a bit, well you're out of the way now, and so is over half of London thanks to me. I'm picking them off one by one, the ones I like, will leave with euphoric pleasure, the ones I don't like, will die." She sat on his lap. "I thought I'd like you Sherlock, until I met you, I liked your brother after all. However I'm smart Mr. Holmes, and I can read people too. And you, I read you wrong at first, now I know. You don't care about the cases you solve, you don't care about the lives of those, the ones wanting to be known. It's nothing really, just I don't think you care."

"Caring is a dis-" he began to speak but his mind drifted off.

"Since you're dying anyway, might as well speed up the process." She opened the bottle and handed the pills to him "Eat up Mr. Holmes"

Sherlocks mind finally adjusted as he realized this girl was killing him, she had already killed him. He smirked at her. "Go ahead and kill me" he opened his mouth wide. "I've wanted to die for years anyway" You are dying. He reminded himself again as he watched Cecelia's smile grow. "Let me die"

Cecelia let the pills fall one by one down his throat. His eyes fogged over in an icy glaze as he let himself drift off to sleep, possibly death. Cecelia left his flat, leaving the bottle in his hands. The flat was empty besides Sherlock. Her smile was wide as she walked onto the London street without a second glance.

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