Fics like John says not, but I think it will do very well.

Uncertainty is difficult for the most patient. For Sherlock, it was agony. A scant few weeks had passed since he was helped off the jet that was meant to take him to his ruin. He stepped into the runway, hallucinating about love and hate, confident in his genius; but in reality he was trapped in the endless cycle of the addict and the muse. And it had all been for John. Years of sobriety, a relatively clean rap sheet, all thrown away for his best friends happiness with the pull of a trigger. A real, selfless, spur-of the moment action that would assure John and Mary the life they both wanted. As a result, he was left in perfect misery. Then came the face of his old nemesis and he found a reason to live. Albeit, too late to stop that delicious dose from surging through his veins. Sobering up to discover that the image of Moriarty was a hoax by his brother to keep him from a death sentence, he wished he could turn back to the needle for comfort. He wished he had the courage to tell John the reason he had done what he had. He wished that he hadn't done the one spectacularly stupid thing that would ensure that he would be alone, forever.

Fics like John says not, but I think it will do very well.

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