Warnings: Language, attempted suicide, and Johnlock if you squint.

Enjoy!

The Trouble I've Caused You

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Let me in now!" John screamed as his fists thudded against the bathroom door, his adolescent muscles straining as he pushed his body against the oak barrier. He had received a disturbing text message while at work. the words had been jumbled, which was very unlike Sherlock. "I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused you, John," one of the messages had said. John immediately knew something was terribly wrong. The rest of the texts he received were just a few words each that had made no sense.

"Open the fucking door!"

"No John, go away." Sherlock replied quietly, his voice suffocated by tears, fumbling with the gun in his hand. His back was slack against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, his long legs spread out on the bathroom tile.

Chugging amber liquid from a glass bottle, Sherlock dug in his pockets, pulling out bullets with his shaking fingers, loading his gun.

John rammed his body into the door, the wooden jamb starting to splinter. Sherlock raised the gun to his chin, letting the tip of the barrel rest on his jaw.

"Go away John, please." Sherlock sobbed, his body numb.

"No, Sherlock-Sherlock, please." John cried, his entire body shaking, slamming against the door. "Why are you doing this? It makes no sense." John rammed the door once more, separating it from its hinges; he slid through the small opening, springing at his friend to wrestle the firearm from his grip, pinning him to the floor.

"No John, give it back. Give it back!" Sherlock mumbled drunkenly, tears cascading down his face, struggling under John's weight.

"I can't Sherlock," John replied, crying, "I need you. I need you here with me. You can't-you can't go."

Sherlock stopped grappling against John and looked into his friend's eyes, defeated he let his head fall against the floor.

"I'm sorry John. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay." John promised, crawling off his friend, and the awkward situation. He leaned against the bathtub dragging Sherlock's sobbing body to his chest.

"I'm tired, John," Sherlock cried into John's chest, clutching at his worn dress shirt, barely conscious.

"I know."

"Please don't leave." Sherlock whispered one last time, drifting into his slumber.

A/N Please let me know what you thought. I apologize for the lack of back story..I like to do some things backwards. I will be posting a second chapter to this if it is wanted, but not until next week because my dog decided to chew through my computer charger and I am using the last of its battery to post this! Please review!