Sherlock angrily walked down the hall of the Diogenes Club. He turned a corner, trying to get to his brother's office as fast as he could; having no regard for John who was doing his best to keep up with the man with the long legs. He quickly turned down another aisle and came to his brother's office. Without knocking, he barged in and shut the door before locking it behind him.

"Why is it that you continue to interfere with my life and who comes in it?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Why, hello to you too, dear brother. I was hoping this was going to be a social visit." Mycroft said nonchalantly, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Can we cut the fake pleasantries? I know you only called us here was to scope out John for yourself. What do you want?!" he yelled, baring his teeth. "John hasn't been...feeling very well lately."

"Sherlock?" he heard John call as he walked by Mycroft's door. They waited until his voice faded away before speaking again.

"What are you planning on doing with this man after you are done with him?" Mycroft, finally looking up at his brother.

"Why do you think I'll ever be done with him? He is my flat mate-"

"That you have slept with and have manipulated him so that you could experiment on him without his knowledge."

"He knows I...do experiments.." Sherlock said quietly.

"Not on him. I have yet to receive a form of experimental consent on this man."

"He automatically agreed to be my test subject when he signed his name to part of the lease."

"Does he know that?"

"It's not my fault some people don't to ask specific details when signing a lease."

"Sherlock," his brother chided. "This man has PTSD! You can seriously harm this person mentally."

"There is something more than PTSD here, brother. John Watson...is a scientific mystery. A mystery I am going to solve."

"And when you solve it? What are you going to do then? Throw him away like everyone else? Or maybe, send him to the asylum like the last "mystery" you had?" he slanted his eyes and looked straight into his brother's eyes. "These are human lives you are messing with, dear brother. Lives that people live! Lives that people like John Watson feel they have a grasp on before people like you come out of nowhere and screw it up for them and make it worse!"

Sherlock was silent, glaring at his brother. How dare his brother think such a thing! Cutting him down as everyone else expected him to act. The last guy was a fluke. He neededthe asylum. He was a pinch and a stepped on foot away from going on a murderous rampage throughout London.

"John Watson is different from all those "others" as you claim them to be. He is a reliable addition to my work and doesn't try to keep me beneath his thumb! I have yet to find out the true cause of John's...attitude, but I assure you, John isn't just a plaything that can be disposed of after you're done with playing with him."

"Sherlock-" Mycroft started before being cut off by another yell.

"S-Sherlock?"

Sherlock quickly turned towards the door and quickly swung it open. He looked down the hall and saw two men escorting John away from Mycroft's office.

"John!" Sherlock yelled at him before running towards him. He pushed one of the guards out of the way and pulled John out of his grasp.

"What the hell do you think you are doing? Can you not see this man is with me?"

"Sorry, Sir, but we were uninformed the younger Holmes would be traveling with a guest. Plus, he was breaking the number one rule of the Diogenes Club."

"I don't care if he broke all of the clubs rules." he sneered. "You do not touch this man! Do you understand me?!" He yelled at them.

"Yes, Sir," they said in unison.

"You are dismissed, then." he held John to his chest as he watched the two guards silently walked down the hall.

After they were gone, Sherlock turned his attention back to John. He looked down at him and felt him shaking and hyperventilating.

"John, are you okay?" he asked him softly, smoothing his hair from in front of his eyes. When John's shaking didn't lessen, he helped him to the floor and held him closely; waiting, rocking, and whispering softly to him until John calmed down and his breathing went back to normal.

"Shh... John, it's okay. It's me, Sherlock," he quietly whispered in his ear.

He felt the grip on his shirt tighten and pull him closer. He retaliated by pulling John closer and making soothing circles on his back.

"Relax, John. It's fine. No one's going to take you away. You are safe. You're here at the Diogenes Club, nowhere else. It's alright..."

John felt like he couldn't breathe. His ribs were cracked and bruised and he was sure a few of his cuts were infected. His heart was beating a mile a minute.

He felt a jagged, crude edge of a knife sliced vertically around his arm; his warm sticky blood flowing down it. He heard an evil laugh somewhere in the room, but could see nothing but darkness from a thick blindfold.

He tried to scream out as another, deeper cut was made a little higher up on his forearm, but it was muffled by a gag. His breathing became heavier as he felt his past injuries' pain mix with his new ones.

In the back of his mind, he could hear small, distant voices trying to speak to him; trying to tell him it's not real.

He feels a knife cut deep into a spot on his shoulder and let out a scream as it's twisted into the wound. His muffled screams drown out the voices trying to calm him- trying to tell him that it's all in his head.

He was on the verge of tears when a single voice breaks through the mental haze.

"John?" it asked. It sounds watery, but it's clearly calling his name. He tries to focus all his attention on the voice.

"John, talk to me." The voice is clearly Sherlock's, but it's so far away. The pain is almost overwhelming him. "John... Come on, John. It's alright. You're fine. You're safe. You're with me. I promise, it's just a dream. It's not real."

John shut his stinging eyes and took a few deep breaths. Slowly, he felt the stinging fade and the bounds fall away. Instead of stabbing pain, soft and warm lips press against his forehead and breathe in his scent. Slowly, he opens his watery eyes to Sherlock's worried face.

Sherlock wiped away the tears that stained John's cheeks and eyes. He gave him a sad smile and looked him in the eyes. Slowly, John's other personalities' voices came back into the present. He gave a big sigh of relief and closed his eyesagain, leaning in Sherlock for support. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him tighter and gave him another soft peck on his forehead.

"Come on, John. Let's go home," Sherlock said softly, helping John to stand. He placed a comforting arm on his shoulder and escorted him to an awaiting black car.

"Sherlock," John said softly, his voice rough from his experience.

"Yes, John?"

"We're supposed to meet your brother."

Sherlock grinned and chuckled a little. "I'm sure he'll understand."

John nodded and continued to lean on Sherlock as they left the building.

Mycroft watched the whole episode from his office doorway. He now understood what Sherlock meant when he said John was special. He brought out his brother's best qualities and didn't make him think others were merely an inconvenience. He actually reached out to help someone he obviously care very much for.

It was almost...weird.

Mycroft closed his door and returned to his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed his assistant.

"I need any and all information regarding mental tests run on a John H. Watson. Ex-army doctor, sent home from injuries sustained from battle. I need to know if he's at risk for any mental illnesses."

"Is that all, Sir?"

"No. I need a number of a psychiatrist on standby. They would need to be able to admit Watson at any moment's notice."

"Are you sure?" she asked confused.

"I've known my brother long enough to know that he'll screw this partnership up one way or another. The only difference is, he'll be destroying John's life instead of his own."