Chapter 1

"Get away from me!" I yelled at Sherlock, pointing my gun towards his chest. He had just come into his flat with the shopping. There was a frown on his face, he clearly hadn't been expecting to see me like this when he returned home. It was uncharacteristic of me, I knew that. Deep in the back of my mind, something was telling me to stop, to put down the gun and to let Sherlock help me. However, these instructions were mostly drowned out by other voices in my head screaming at me to pull the trigger. They said that if I didn't kill Sherlock, he was going to kill me any second.

After a few seconds of deliberation, Sherlock slowly put down the shopping and raised his hands in the air. I knew he was trying to show me that meant no harm, but all I could hear were the voices screaming that he was faking it, that I had to act now to save myself, and Mary.

"John? What are you doing?" He asked slowly and carefully. I gritted my teeth. Trying to win me over, was he? I wouldn't have any of that.

I frowned at Sherlock, fixing him in a cold, hard stare. He was searching my face, looking for an explanation. He found none. All he could see was my rage. I knew that because all I could feel was rage. "Get away from me." I repeated in a low growl. It even frightened me to hear such a threatening tone, but the voices were congratulating me as I said it. I wanted them on my side.

"John, it's me." Sherlock said. In the back of my mind, I knew that Sherlock was trying to help, trying to break me out of this; but the voices were louder than that thought, and they screamed 'Liar!' over and over again.

Sherlock slowly started to lower one of his hands towards his pocket. He must have a gun, or a way to call security. I had to stop him getting the upper hand, I needed to stay in control of the situation. "Don't you dare." I whispered, tilting the gun up slightly so it was aiming at Sherlock's head.

"Alright." He said soothingly, trying to stop the situation from escalating. The voices were even louder now. Ordering that I shoot Sherlock while I had the chance. As Sherlock raised his hand back up to join the other one in the air, I lowered the gun back down so it aimed at Sherlock's chest. I wasn't sure how much longer I could fight the voices' demands for.

"Leave now or I will shoot you." I said, taking a very small step towards Sherlock. He looked slightly panicked now. The cogs in his head must have been working overtime to try and find a solution. The voices were louder than ever now. I was beyond caring about the consequences of my actions. All I wanted to do was make them shut up, whatever that would take.

I was aware that my breathing and heart rate were increasing as fear and adrenaline pumped through my veins. I knew that the only way to make this stop, to make the voices stop, was the shoot the man standing opposite me, and shoot him dead.

I could see Sherlock desperately trying to find a way to save himself. I wanted to scream at him that the only way to avoid being shot would be to run, and run fast. However, my mouth wouldn't obey me. The voices said that I had to shoot Sherlock, had to kill him.

Sherlock made one more desperate attempt to get through to me. "John, it's me, Sherlock. Just let me help you, let me take the gun.". He reached out his hands ever so slightly towards me. His voice was kind and concerned. The voices told me not to be fooled by it. I began to agree with them. This was very unlike Sherlock. He must be up to something. I had to stop him.

As I was thinking about what to do next, Sherlock took a bold step forwards. My eyes widened in shock. The voices were yelling now, yelling that Sherlock was making his move, that time was running out. I tried to reason with them, but to no avail. I had to shoot to make them stop, and I was willing to do anything to make them stop now.

My grip tightened on the gun handle and my finger tightened around the trigger. I braced myself. Just as I was pulling the trigger, I suddenly thought 'This is Sherlock, my best friend. He's not going to hurt me.' But it was too late, I had already released the bullet. In the last seconds, I turned the gun slightly to the left, hoping that I wouldn't make a fatal shot.

The bullet hit and Sherlock went down almost instantly. I closed my eyes. The voices were still screaming. They told me how stupid I was, because he might not be dead, he had a chance to survive as long as the ambulance was fast enough.

The longer I stood there, gun pointed at Sherlock still, the louder the voices became. I tried shutting my eyes, but it didn't help. The voices said that to ensure Sherlock's death, I had to delay the rescue, shoot anyone that came into the room. Nobody was my friend, the world was my enemy.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive. I heard the voices and footsteps on the stairs. Then, three men burst into the room. Two, I recognised as armed response men, the third was Detective Inspector Lestrade. As soon as I set eyes on him, the voices were screaming at me to shoot him dead.

I looked back at Sherlock, following Lestrade's gaze. He looked paler than ever now, a large crimson mark on his pale shirt. The voices cheered inside my head, chanting 'He's dying, he's dying!'. I had to look away to make them stop.

"John? What are you doing?" Lestrade asked, staring at me in disbelief. The voices telling me to kill him were getting louder. I knew that if something didn't happen soon, there would be another body lying on the floor, or maybe more than one.

"Leave now or I'll shoot you all." I growled, desperately willing them to leave before they got hurt, while the voices yelled at me to stop wasting my time and get on with it. They were starting to call me a coward, something that I simply couldn't stand. I tightened my grip on the trigger.

Before I had a chance to do anything else, the taser hit me. I screamed; not because of pain but because I knew I had been defeated, that I had failed. The voices chanted 'Failure!' over and over again. I fell to the floor as I lost all control over my muscles, dropping the gun as I did so. The armed response men rushed forwards, sliding the gun away from me across the floor and pinning me to the ground.

The shock of the taser only lasted a few seconds. I was still shaking a little, but was easily able to start fighting back. More men had appeared from somewhere, they helped to pin me to the ground. I struggled under their grasp and repeated the threats that the voices were saying. The volatility of it all took me by surprise, but I couldn't do anything to stop myself.

Eventually, I gave in and allowed the men to pin me to the ground. Breathing heavily, I started to whisper at the voices to shut up. Greg appeared next to my face. The voices urged me to hurt him, but I was powerless under the grip of so many men. Instead, I told the voices to shut up, saying it a little louder this time.

"What's that? John, can you hear me?"

I was no longer looking at Lestrade, instead, I stared into nowhere and told the voices to shut up. Every time I said it, I became louder and angrier because they would not obey me.

"John, nobody's talking. Who needs to shut up?"

I wanted to tell Greg everything. That I hadn't wanted to kill Sherlock, that the voices were filling my mind, but I couldn't. The voices consumed my thoughts. I couldn't do anything by my own will anymore. The voices were telling me to keep fighting, but I knew it would be no use.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I yelled, over and over, desperately trying to hear myself think over the orders. I began to quiver and shake. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists. Nothing worked. Nothing would make them stop. Above me, Greg was talking to someone that I didn't recognise.

"Did you get anything out of him?"

"No, I don't think he knew I was there. He just keeps telling something, or someone, to shut up."

"Maybe he's hearing things? You said he suffers from PTSD, it seems like a viable reason for what's happened."

The stranger crouched down next to me. I was now mumbling 'Shut up' over and over, almost incoherently. Every time I said it, the voices got louder. I needed to make it stop, to make everything stop.

"Doctor Watson? Can you hear me?" She asked kindly.

I wanted to say 'yes'. To beg her to help me, to make the voices stop, but all I could do was mumble 'shut up'. Instead, I nodded my head very slightly. The movement was minute, but the woman saw it.

"Are you hearing things?" She asked carefully. The woman was very close now, I could feel her breath on my ear. I nodded again. Then, going against the voices, I managed to whisper "Make them stop, please.", before I began to mumble 'shut up'. once more. Engaging with the woman had made the voices angry, and therefore louder.

The woman stood back up again and spoke. She must have thought I couldn't hear her, but despite the voices, I managed to make out what she was saying.

"Let's sedate him and get him somewhere safe. Dave, have you got some lorazepam? We'll need the liquid form; I don't think he's in a state to take pills right now."

Gently, someone tried to unclench my fist. I knew that they were doing this in order to find a vein to inject the needle into. The voices yelled at me yet again, saying that if they injected me, I would sleep and never wake up. To be honest, I didn't care, so long as it stopped the voices; but my hand wouldn't obey me, and it remained clenched into a tight fist. If I'd had my eyes open, I was sure I'd see that the knuckle was white.

"John, just relax. We're here to help you, whatever the voices are saying." The woman said gently.

Eventually, seeing that calm persuasion wasn't going to work, the woman prised open my fist and pressed my palm to the floor, preventing me from forming another fist. I felt her soft fingers on the skin on the back of my hand. The voices screamed at me that it was my last chance to fight, that I needed to pull my hand away, but there were too many people, and I was too weak to fight. The needle prick was sharp and sudden and I flinched, trying to pull my hand away; but just as I thought, it was held tightly. I could feel the cold spreading up my arm. The voices wanted me to fight against it, but I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to.

"That's it, you're safe now, John. Just relax." The woman soothed me gently as darkness washed over me and my muscles relaxed. Finally, the voices dimmed and the world faded away.

"Right, pick him up boys. Lestrade you'll have to come with him. He needs to wake up with a familiar face."

"Yeah, sure. I'll phone his wife on the way."