InsaneJournal

WHO: Sherlock Holmes & Mac Taylor
WHAT: Sherlock has been called to a crime scene at perhaps the most inopportune moment.
WHEN: April 7th; Evening
WHERE: A crime scene
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: In Progress

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. There had been a mix of motivations that had compelled him to tumble off the wagon. Pain, spite, fear, all of these things had been washed away by the barbiturates that he'd pumped into his system. Laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, Sherlock didn't have to think about his own stupidity, Mycroft's anger, or the possibility that he had probably lost his brother for good. As much as Sherlock always made it seem as though he didn't want Mycroft around and did his best to push him away, it was simply because he wanted to interact with his brother on his terms not the overprotective way that Mycroft always insisted on. But now, well, now, Sherlock wasn't really sure whether either would even be an option now.

Roused from his stupor by the buzz of his phone alerting him to a new message, Sherlock rolled over and squinted, staring at the message until he was able to make out that it was from Mac. There was a case that had to be attended to, and while Sherlock considered, for the briefest of moments, telling the forensic detective that he was otherwise occupied, Sherlock knew he'd solved just as many cases like this as he had clean. Hand moving down to the small stack of various pills and vials that he'd purchased, sorting through them until he found what he needed. It was like riding a bike, figuring out the sort of drug combinations that he needed to seem as though he was 'normal', and dumping the pills out into his hand, Sherlock popped them as he rolled out of his bed. Three Adderall would balance the lethargy in his system, give him the ability to work at the same speeds that he did when clear headed, and while he'd be working at double speeds as soon as his system washed out the first round of drugs that he'd taken, he didn't think it would strike anyone as an obvious change.

Slipping the pill vial into his pocket and grabbing his coat from where he'd tossed it by the door, Sherlock grabbed a cab to the scene, taking the ride to focus himself, and as he stepped out of the cab and walked the last few yards into the closed off crime scene, Sherlock took a deep breath and ducked under the crime scene tape, "What have we got?"