Being called out of the middle of class was never unusual when it came to her friend Sherlock Holmes. What made this occurrence slightly unusual was the fact that it was his older Mycroft that had called her.
She was in the middle of studying for her course when the eldest Holmes decided to call her and alert her that something was wrong with Sherlock since he refuses to leave his dorm room and won't allow anyone to enter. Believing that she had a better chance than him, he decided to call her and hope that she could convince him to emerge from his room.
She ran across the courtyard towards the familiar dormitory. Eyes goggled at her as she ran helplessly through the narrow corridors that were closing in on her. She had journeyed to his room numerous times and knew the route like the back of her hand.
When she reached his room Mycroft was nowhere in sight - most likely given up after knocking several times and attempting to bash the door down.
She secretly thanked the university for allowing her an extra key to his room; since she had specified that she had to take care of him and make sure he had done nothing stupid while missing class.
She shoved the key into the lock and twisted it, already fearing the worst.
She had been friends with Sherlock since primary school and she was used to all of his shenanigans. She had seen him at his best and at his worst.
The door swung open and a putrid smell hit her senses. She covered her mouth in an attempt to not be sick.
The room was pitch black, the curtains drawn so far together that no form of sunlight could dare entire the small room. She flicked the light switch on and there he was.
Lying on his bed face first. And she knew all too well what he had done.
The smell was disgustingly familiar and the evidence was resting on the night stand beside his bed. She dropped her books and her bag on the floor and slammed the door shut.
He still didn't stir.
She stormed across the room towards him and began to shake his shoulders.
"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes you better get up some time soon or I swear.."
He began to move a little. He opened his eyes a little, smiled at her slightly before turning away from her again.
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you better turn around and speak to me right now or I swear I am prepared to phone not only Mycroft but your mother as well!"
That's one way to get him to move.
He quickly spun around and fell onto the ground, dragging the duvet of his bed with him. He landed on the floor with a thud. She tapped her foot on his floor and folded her arms across her chest.
"You promised.." She mumbled, staring at the man in his dilated eyes. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot.
"(Y/N)," He pushed himself off of the floor, the duvet falling to his knees.
"You promised! You promised me that you wouldn't touch the stuff again!" She shouted. "Now I find you here, higher that a bloody kite and missing class for the third time this week! You do realize that Mycroft was the one that phoned me right? I left class for you Sherlock, I hope you realize that."
"(Y/N) please," He begged.
She raised her hand to stop him. "You better get yourself cleaned up, Sherlock. Quickly. I won't let you off so easy next time, just count yourself lucky that I always come running back no matter what."
Sherlock sighed. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)."
"Save it Sherlock, just save it."
She shuffled around him and grabbed a clean set of clothes for him. She pointed towards the small and cramped en-suite bathroom.
"Shower. Get changed, and I'll...I'll try and clean up this bloody mess before an inspector or something shows up."
Sherlock does as she asks and escapes into the bathroom and allowing the warm beats of the shower consume his skin.
He always did this. It was a flaw he was persistent to get rid of, but no matter how hard he tried it would always return with a vengeance.
He had let her down so many time, yet she always managed to run back to him time and time again.
When they had first met, he believed that something was wrong with her. That she was only being kind of him for a bet and befriending him for a joke, but it was then that he discovered that she had no true friends of her own.
And she was always a true friend to him, no matter how stupid he was and no matter how many promises he had broken.
She was an addict and Sherlock was her drug.