Conversational

"...Ah. John."
"Sherlock."
"Hello."
"What did you take."
"Ah. Only the usual, of course."
"Why?"
"...Only the usual reason of course."
"And what reason is that?"
"I'm an addict, John. That's the only reason that matters, isn't it."
"Sher. You - ah, Christ."
"If you're going to hit me just get it over with please."
"...Wh-...What?"
"It's fine, John. It's the least I deserve, anyway. Go on, then. Or should I stand?"
"N-no, y-...Sher -...Why -..."
"Why?"
"Why would you say that?"
"No don't misunderstand me John, I mean it. I've hurt you again. It's all I seem to be good at anymore. So, you deserve to hurt me back again."
"...Sherlock?"
"Really it's been rather fair, I think. A brilliant way for us to keep things equal. I put you through near three years of grief. You nearly break my nose and re-open several torture wounds. -"
"Christ!"
"- I kill your wife, -"
"You didn't."
" - you put me on the floor - of a morgue, very fitting. I get high, you...what? Oh, you should have got me -"
"Got you?"
"- for the plane too. I would have left you proper that time, too. It's ok, you can put that one with this one, I'll allow - ufh!"
"Sher. I -... I'm so - Oh, God. I'm so sorry."
"...John, I know that I've said before that hugging physically hurts me, but I want you to know I was being facetious."
"No - God, Sherlock, no. No. No."
"...Is -...Is this, uh. One of those things which are not good?"
"Christ. It's so very not good, Sherlock."
"...Sorry. You, uh. You can add that too then."
"Add...? No! No! Me, Sherlock, I'm not good, I'm not good."
"You...What?"
"I never should have - I should have never - You don't deserve - You've never deserved - You never will deserve - Oh, God!"
"I -...must admit, I don't think I'm quite following."
"Just - Jesus, let's - ah, shit. Fuck. Ok. Alright. You - Let's get you to bed. Sleep off the drugs. Come on. Come on, Sher."
"I'm really not tired, John. You know I favor uppers."
"Please, Sherlock. Please, just - Please."

Sherlock finally claws his way back to consciousness and fights himself free of his bedsheets. Upon first glance around his room, he finds himself alone. John must have gone home, then. Probably won't ever come back. Is there anything left of last night's drugs?

Sherlock stumbles from his room, intending to head into the bathroom to wash some of the crust off of his face. He doesn't make it to the bathroom, instead stopping as he finds John, sitting in the hallway, back against the wall, half-empty bottle of Scotch on the floor beside him. Sherlock looks toward the bathroom, then down at John, and finally to the bathroom again. Then, choice made, he stumbles over John to continue his intended activity.

When he finishes, he returns to the hallway to find that John seems not to have moved. The doctor is awake, seems to have been the whole time, but certainly not entirely present. Until he murmurs, "I've made an appointment."

Sherlock folds his legs under himself to crumble to the floor beside John. "Have you?"
"Anger management."
"Hm."
"I'm so angry. All the time. And I take it out on - On you. Christ, only ever you." John's head thumps gently back against the wall behind him.
"Well. To be fair -"
"It's not. It's not fair, Sherlock. It never was. It never will be."
"...But I did deserve it."
"No. Nobody deserves that. Oh, Sherlock. Nobody deserves to have their best friend - their only friend, so you've said before - hitting them. For any reason. It doesn't matter what you do, if they're your friend they'd never actually hit you. If someone cared about you at all they'd never want to see you hurt. Bloody, cringing on the floor - Oh, Christ."
"..."
"You cared for her too. God help me, I don't quite know why but you did, even after what she did. And she died for you. She...She might have been your friend too. You lost her too. And I - Dear God, I -...No. Never again, Sherlock. Never. Never."
"John."
"I'm going to start - I don't know. It's a program I guess. I - I'm never -...If I ever raise a hand to you again Sherlock I want you to - Ah...I'd say hit me first but then...No, we're ending the hitting. If I ever raise a hand to you, you walk away. You go, and leave me there, wherever it is, and you -...You lock the door when you get home. No, I wouldn't try to come in and hurt you, but don't you let me try to talk my way out of it. Do you hear me, Sherlock? Don't accept anything but an apology. Please. Promise me, Sherlock. Please."
"...John, I -...And I - I'll -...Hmh."
"You don't have to do anything."
"John, I have hurt you. I can't keep doing it. Just because it's not with my fists doesn't mean it's less problematic."
"...Therapy, Sherlock."
"Ah..."
"I - hmh. I don't know. I don't know, Sher. I just know I don't ever want your blood on my - on my knuckles again. Christ."
"I...wonder. What about a relationship counselor?"
"A what?"
"John."
"No I did hear you, it's just -... We're not - You and I - We -..."
"Just because we are not romantically involved does not mean we're not in a relationship."
"...I...Yeah...I guess you're right."
"I'm always right, John."
"No, not about deserving to be hit."
"... Alright. Maybe not always."
"But a lot of the time."
"Ha..."
"...Alright. R-...Relationship counseling."
"And I'll find a therapist who can help me...sort -..."
"...Yeah. It's a lot to sort, I'm sure."
"Mm."
"...Torture wounds?"
"Ah. My time away was not always easy."
"I'm sorry, Sher."
"...I am too, John."
"I'll do better. I swear I will. I'll be better for you. Alright?"
"You've -...Alright. Better. And...Me too."
"Alright. Yeah, alright."
"Alright."