A/N: Hey, ya'll! RainyDays-and-Daydreams here. I know, I know, I'm a heartless bitch for making you wait so long. In my defense, I really wan't trying to make you wait so long- as much as I wish it didn't exist, there is this thing called real life that just loooves to fuck with me. And whatever plans I might have had. So, I am really, truly, sorry, and I will make more of an effort to update more frequently in the future. Did I say I love you all? Every single one of you? I love you. *huggles reader* Please forgive me. Anyhoo.. I should probably get on with the actual story now... but don't forget to leave the lovely Jcaslcgaiwd a review, please! Again, much love! Enjoy!

Sherlock began to wake slowly, dazed. What happened? he thought, slowly sitting up. He put his hand to his head as it began to pound, a slow, relentless rhythm that caused his head to want to explode. A fuzzy memory comes, back to him. Oh no,he thought. His eyes opened wide with panic, migraine all but forgotten. John couldn't know. He mustn't know about the things he had been doing to himself to keep away the pain...

He sat up and looked for the good doctor. He saw John sitting in a chair, face in his hands, shaking slightly. He's crying, Sherlock realized. He looked down and saw his sleeves had been rolled up. That's when he remembered what had happened. John had sedated him... Panic began to build in him again. How much had John seen? He needed to know.

'

He cleared his throat nervously. "John?' he asked. His throat was raspy. Probably from screaming, he thought. He winced, and then asked again when he realized he hadn't heard a response from the older man. "John?" he asked again, his voice slightly louder and clearer. The doctor looked up, startled. His eyes were red, and Sherlock could see the tear tracks on his face. "Sherlock?" he asked, looking at him. "Are you awake?"

Sherlock sighed. "No, John, I'm still asleep, and you're hallucinating all of this. Yes, I'm awake." He punctuated this with an eyeroll that could rival any teenager's. John, sad as he was, couldn't suppress a grin that emerged because of his flatmate's sarcastic comment. Then he sighed, and ran a hand through his short, blonde hair. "Sherlock..." he began. "We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't" Sherlock said, suddenly defensive. "I am worthless. A freak, a monster, a fucking psychopath." He spat the words out like they were venom, and each word broke a little of John's heart. "I am useless, I am weak, I am nothing. I'm just treating myself like I should be treated." Sherlock looked down as he uttered the last sentence, and his eyes held a look of absolute defeat and misery John hadn't seen... well, he hadn't seen since he had come back from Afghanistan. John knew that look. It was one he had worn fort many months, his constant companion in the long while he was alone. And then he had met Sherlock, and life had returned to him, and he could once again see the beauty in everything. And oh, how sweet life was. John took one look at those eyes and knew the battle he needed to fight was going to be long and hard, but it was one he needed to fight if he wanted to save Sherlock.

John slowly sat up, making his way slowly over to Sherlock. Even with his new purpose, his heart was still heavy with grief and guilt. He was a doctor, for fuck's sake, and this man was his best friend. He should've noticed, he should've seen the signs, he should've... No, he refused to let his thoughts travel down that road. He could feel guilty later. Right now he needed to help Sherlock.

He sat down gently next to Sherlock, and slowly put his arm on the shaking detective. "Sherlock," he said gently, "I've already said this so many times, I don't know how to say it any more. You are fantastic, brilliant, amazing, and the complete opposite of everything you just said. You are not worthless, Sherlock. You make a difference every day in this world just by being you. And Sherlock..." John put his finger under the detective's chin, and pulled his face up to meet his. He looked into those blue, grey, and green eyes that were filled with sorrow and whispered, "You are not a psychopath, or a sociopath. You are human, and you feel, and that is the best thing you can be." Sherlock began to cry and John wrapped his arms around the sobbing man, and rubbed soothing circles on his back. "I'm here," he said. He couldn't promise that everything would be better now, or that he would miraculously heal, but he was here. And that was all Sherlock needed.

Sherlock screamed as the knife dug into his skin. He wanted to remain calm, he did, but the pain was too much. He quickly regained control of himself though, and escaped into his mind palace as he was cut all over his body. He nearly winced as he felt the cut along his cheekbone. He knew it would scar. At the moment though, he didn't care. Transport, he reminded himself. Just transport.

Moriarty pulled up his head by his curls again, He ran the knife over his face. "Not so pretty now, are you?" the madman cooed, running the knife over his scalp. Sherlock winced as he felt the sharp edge drag through his hair. Moriarty giggled, and cut at one of his curls. Sherlock saw it fall to the floor. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Just one last thing for today, pet," Moriarty whispered in his ear. Sherlock struggled not shudder as he felt his hot breath on his ear. Then he had to try not to scream in agony as he began to feel the letter F engraved on his chest. "You are a freak," Moriarty whispered, "a pathetic waste of space on this planet."

Sherlock let his mind go blank.

A/N: Hi, it's Jcaslcgaiwd! Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter because I certainly did. Sorry if Sherlock I'd a bit OOC, but remember, he is damaged and broken so he is not his former self anymore. I shall be updating the next chapter by tomorrow, so yeah. That's about it for now. Review and make me smile! :)