'Disclaimer: I don't own it.


'John, I know I'm not easy to live with."

John looked up from his blog at Sherlock, who had been staring silently out the window holding his violin for a good half hour.

"That's quite an understatement," he replied, only half-joking.

"And there are things about me that you don't know, things I'm not proud of."

John's eyes widened. That didn't sound like his friend at all. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Sherlock continued staring out the window, and then finally replied, "No, I'm not. I'm tired of feeling this way, John. My mind keeps racing, I've been going over and over so many things, things that went wrong, cases I never solved, everything I did or didn't do. I just want it to stop, but it keeps eating away at my mind and it's driving me mad. " He sighed, and then whispered, ''All the mistakes, so many mistakes...''

John was getting very worried now. What was going on? "Sherlock, are you...high?" he blurted.

Sherlock whirled around and glared at John. "What? No, no!" he replied,waving his violin bow. "I got that monkey off my back a long time ago." Seeing John's doubtful expression, he added firmly, "I'm clean."

John nodded. "Fine, I believe you." He stood and put his laptop on the table. Looking Sherlock in the eyes, he said, "Okay, you're acting a bit...odd, so you can understand why I might be worried about that." He thought for a second, then continued, ''When was the last time you slept?"

Sherlock's mouth snapped shut, then he turned back towards the window. Gotcha, John thought.

"Well, never mind that. Listen, we all have things we're not proud of, Sherlock. God knows, I have a dozen. We can't change the past, but it's what we do now that counts." I'm terrible at this.

At first, John thought he wasn't going to respond, but then Sherlock said in a flat voice, "Before we met...I once attempted suicide."

Okay, John didn't see that coming. "Why?"

"At the time, it seemed the right thing to do."

John shook his head. "There's never a 'right time' for that! Sherlock, you may find this hard to believe, but you have people who care about you, some might even say in spite of you..." he took a deep breath, and added, "There's your parents, Mycroft-"

Sherlock snorted a laugh.

"Yes, Mycroft does care about you, in his own peculiar way. Then there's Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly Hooper, and me!"

Sherlock remained silent a long while, and finally said, "It wasn't the boredom."

John went and stood beside Sherlock, whose face was an impassive mask. "I didn't think so," he said softly.

Sherlock continued, ''I used to think I was better off alone, that alone protected me. Perhaps I was...mistaken.''

John was sorely tempted to say 'Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes' but he thought better of it. Instead, he said, ''Perhaps.''

Sherlock sighed again, and turning to John, he asked hesitantly, "Do you regret it?"

John looked intently at his friend, and replied, "Do I regret saving your life? Do I regret being your flatmate? Well, maybe a time or two. Do I regret being your friend?" He crossed his arms and answered,"Never."

Believe me.

Sherlock's mouth quirked up slightly, and he turned back to the window. John was about to leave the room when he heard a faint whisper, "Thank you, John."

John smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him.

"You're welcome."