It had been a week since Sherlock's last case. He had nothing to do for the past week. So needless to say he was incredibly bored. He had shot up the wall quite a bit. Overtime he did John had wrestled the gun out of his hand. That was pretty much the only action he had for the past week.

Sherlock was currently sitting in the chair in the living room. He had his elbow resting on the arm rest, his head sitting on his hand. He had his eyes closed. John had gone out to have a drink or two with an old friend so Sherlock was currently alone in the flat.

He sighed, opening his eyes. He stood up, moving over to the fireplace. On the mantle he had a secret supply of drugs hidden in the skull he had up there. He blinked, moving the skull and taking the bottle of drugs. He stared at them. He was temped to use them. Just to feel a rush of something, anything. Although there was that slight tugging feeling that was holding him back. John. He had made a silent promise to himself. He wasnt going to do that anymore. He sighed, setting the drugs down and covering them up with the skull.

Sherlock glanced over when he heard some footsteps coming up the stairs outside of the front door.