Please tell me Mrs. Hudson is worrying over nothing.
Can you imagine what must have gone through her head for her to call at eleven in the evening, crying because she’s certain your pupils were highly dilated earlier that day and that you’ve been strangely quiet for the past two weeks.
I thought you - we - were past that, Sherlock. I thought you understood what it all meant. After our last case, after this whole mess, I thought...
You can’t do this to yourself any longer - your body won’t allow it. Not with the life you live, not with the recent events, not with the way you take care of your bloody transport.
For God’s sake, Sherlock! You and I clearly know you don’t need drugs, you never needed them. You’re destroying this brilliant mind of yours, not to mention the damage you’re doing to the life of the people around you. Can’t you think of them before picking up that needle?!
I can’t deal with this, not now. I’m hours away from London, I can’t just drop by to make sure you’re not high. And this isn’t Mrs. Hudson’s place either. She’s been through so much already. She’s really worried about you, Sherlock, so the least you can do is prove her wrong and not touch drugs anymore. You did promise, remember?
So yes, I really, really hope she’s worrying over nothing.
Take care of yourself.