Okay, so John has been self-righteous and in impeccable control. I'm feeling a situation were John loses it and throws the rules out the window.
There sorry that it took so long, been busy planning and executing a three year olds birthday party
Reviews are welcome
Peace&Love
"Are we going to talk about Moriarty?" John asks one day. They have been dancing around the subject of the party for weeks now, Sherlock never wanting to discuss it and John a little apprehensive about bringing it up. Today, the two men are lounging about in the flat after a grueling case that lasted the entire week. John is sitting in his arm chair as usual and Sherlock is occupied with his microscope, seemingly looking at something interesting, John just sees a nasty green blob in a petri dish.
"What about him?" Sherlock questions distantly, eyes still looking through his microscope.
"How about the fact that he drugged an entire party right under your brother's nose." John says, curiosity laced into his voice.
"Oh that." Sherlock states, "Mycroft is still pissed about it."
"What do you mean 'oh that'?" John ask, getting slightly annoyed by Sherlock's nonchalant attitude. Morairty is dangerous, he tried to kill the detective the first time they talked. What now? Will he try again?
"He just wanted to show me that he had the upper hand in the game." Sherlock says disinterestedly.
"The game? What game? That man tried to kill you." John asks incredulously. "What did he say to you on the phone?"
"Nothing of importance, he said he wanted to meet and burn the heart out of me, crazy fan stuff." Sherlock shrugs his shoulders, obviously to lazy to talk out loud.
"Burn the heart... What?" John asks, seriously confused now.
"Yes, John, I didn't stutter." John reels back at Sherlock's snappy tone.
"I don't get it. Who is this guy?" John questions ignoring the stroppiness.
"I don't know." Sherlock says, his voice uncharacteristically sad, as if Moriarty's words really scared him, and maybe they did, maybe Sherlock is scared of losing his heart, no matter how un-Sherlock it sounds. John softens his features, standing up, he walks to the kitchen.
"Sherlock, I won't let this guy get to you." John says, looking the genius right in the eye. Sherlock fidgets abnormally under the gaze. Sherlock is hiding something. John immediately grabs a hold of the detective and opens up the connection simultaneously catching the genius off guard. Sherlock gasp and John is able to find the memory of the phone conversation.
"I see that you pet, Johnny boy is loyal. Seems a little drunk, or is it drugged." The Irish voice pierces through the memory. John can see Sherlock looking out onto the grounds.
"Who are you?" A deep baritone oozes confidence.
"I'm offended you should know me," The sing song voice of Moriarty causes John to shiver.
"I think I would remember a lunatic."
"That's the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me."
"Who are you?
"No need to get touchy. Moriarty is the name. "
"What do you want?"
"Well well Sherly, you are just all business. Fine, I'll play. I want to burn the heart out of you."
"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"I beg to differ, what about your..how should I put it...overly sensitive boyfriend." John can feel Sherlock tense at Moriarty's accusation.
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock keeps his voice neutral.
"Oh come on, don't tell me that you don't think something is different with Johnny boy."
"There is nothing different, when I find you, you are a dead man."
"No you won't. Besides, I'd be more worried about Johnny and your predicament."
The whole memory takes about two seconds to play through John's mind.
A break of glass and the feeling of falling is the last thing that John hears, Sherlock yanks his hand out of John's grip, silencing the mental connection at the same time. John reels back, his body staggers, finding the counter behind him. The doctor leans on it for support, his head is in an unfamiliar daze. The memory is powerful, more powerful than normal, he grips his head as a headache starts to form, the dull throb erupts in his mind, and John can feel blood seep from his nose.
"Oh my god, John." He hears Sherlock's voice of concern. John takes deep breaths trying to reign in his headache, he immediately breaks the mental connection with Sherlock off and focuses solely on trying to get in control. He feels hands on his clothed torso and back, John flinches reflexivity, he relaxes when he doesn't feel pain. He allows Sherlock to guide him into the living room and onto the sofa. Hands leave him and John relaxes into the cushions.
His mind is in confusion. This has never happened with Sherlock before, especially not with a connection break.
"John." John winces at the intrusion.
"Not yet, Sherlock." John hisses, he takes the two paracetamol from the detective's long fingers, who drops the pills in his hands to avoid hurtful contact. Instead, his mind is reeling, but his headache is subsiding. John's confusion comes to the forefront of the doctor's mind, Why was the break so violent, what if it's because of the chilling memory, the powerful memory. What if it is somehow connected to Moriarty.
"I'm sorry, John. I shouldn't have pulled away." Sherlock is apologising. "Watson, you are either a really good influence or a really bad one." John can't but chuckle to himself, his headache almost gone, leaving behind a minimal tolerable throb. John opens his eyes that he hadn't realised he had closed. Sherlock is sitting across from him on the coffee table, his hands reaching out mid air awkwardly, like he wants to touch John but very afraid.
John sighs and closes the distance, grabbing Sherlock's hand. He winces slightly at the contact, more out of apprehension than actual pain, in fact no pain follows. Sherlock grabs a nearby tissue and wipes John's nosebleed up. The blood is minimal and the nosebleed isn't that big of one, but it's enough to freak the detective out, to make the detective feel guilty for hurting John.
"It's not your fault, We didn't know that I could have this type of reaction with you." John says pulling the detective to the sofa once he is done, sitting side by side and then leaning into Sherlock and the warm connection. The feeling of safety and heat wash over John at the contact and the doctor knows it's Sherlock's doing even though the telepath can't see any thoughts or memories.
"Why didn't you tell me?" John asks after a few minutes of silence. John opens the connection but hears silence on Sherlock's end. All evidence of an attack is gone, John's headache is almost gone and the pain from the connection is vanishing.
"I didn't want to scare you." John tilts his head to see Sherlock's eyes. The detective is looking away purposefully, afraid of the emotional weakness he is showing.
"Come on, I was a soldier remember, It takes a lot more than that to scare me." John says smiling, cupping a hand over Sherlock's cheek, turning the detective's face so they look at each other. Sherlock returns the smile briefly before his face going neutral again. John decides to leave this conversation for later, when Sherlock isn't upset about hurting the doctor. Silence, externally and mentally envelop the pair sitting on the sofa.
"I've been trying to figure out why you reacted so violently, John." The genius questions after a few minutes, his shoulders sagging with defeat as if he is admitting his worse weakness. In a way, the detective is admitting a weakness, the fact that Sherlock can't conclude how and why John reacted the way he did, is a failure to the genius.
John squeezes Sherlock's hand reassuringly. "That memory was powerful, more powerful than normal. I think it has to do with Moriarty." John states, and Sherlock raises an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"He is the only common factor, his drug made me react different and his memory caused me to have a reaction, where I haven't had a reaction with you no matter how abrupt the connection is severed. It makes sense." John states nonchalantly. "Oh." John sighs and rubs his temples as the last of the throbbing dissipates.
"I am truly sorry John, I did not mean to hurt you." Sherlock's thoughts are laced with guilty.
"No, I shouldn't have pried, Besides, I don't condition myself around you so I wasn't prepared like I normally am." John states and lays his head down onto Sherlock's lap, their hands still linked. Sherlock instinctively puts a hand onto John's head, reluctantly at first, then Sherlock's fingers relax and stroke the doctor's head soothingly.
"We are going to have to do something about Moriarty." John states finally.
"I know." Sherlock sighs, formulating a plan.
John walks back towards the flat after his short shift in surgery, not as tired as he normally is. After getting injected with the drug, Sherlock insists that John take it slow, even though it's been almost a month, but John has decides to humor the detective and only works part time. He still doubles up on gloves and he still wears his earphones, that is until gets within range of Sherlock. Nothing has really changed, no sign of Moriarty, John almost relaxes with the thought, almost. John turns onto Baker Street, his iPod already tucked securely into his jacket pocket now that he is in range of Sherlock.
"John." The doctor sighs smugly, he kind of missed the detective's thoughts throughout the day, although he knew the detective is being quieter than normal, being quiet on purpose. John narrows his eyes at the thought of a secret detective and secretly wonders if he could pull it off.
"John don't come into the flat." John huffs in a tinge of annoyance, he wasn't allowed in his own flat anymore. What kind of experiments is he doing now? John starts to work himself up and is three seconds away from running into the flat and demanding an explanation.
"Shut up you idiot. There is an intruder. He is watching out the window, he can see you walking up the street, act normal." Sherlock's voice says, calm but verging on panic. John immediately stops half way down Baker Street, he resist the urge to look into the flat's windows. The doctor opens up the connection with a spurt of lilac and honey. He is impacted with the thoughts of Sherlock, they are calm and collected but John can sense Sherlock trying to silence his thoughts, either to not worry John or something is amiss. John doesn't push and realises that he should probably do something. He wonders if there is someone watching the flat on the outside also. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he nonchalantly looks around the street, for any type of surveillance.
Living with Sherlock has taught John a few things, just because one cannot see something doesn't mean it's not there. Actually, it was Mycroft who taught him this, due the elder Holmes's obsession with CCTV.
It's all semantics.
John doesn't find anything out of the ordinary but the doctor decides to play it safe. John hangs his head with a sigh, not too over dramatic but enough to get his point across. He turns on his heels and walks away from the street, as if going to Tesco. Once he exists the street and turns right, John looks around quickly checking for tails.
"John." The doctor is comforted by the thoughts as he plans. He ducks into an alleyway once he is sure he has nobody follow him. He opens up the connection again and this time is easier to probe the detective's mind.. He sees through Sherlock and into the flat. Sherlock is sitting on the couch based on the view that John is seeing. A masked man stands in front of the detective. John's breath hitches. The man has a gun pointed at Sherlock's head, his wrist bound and his head bleeding profusely. That's why Sherlock isn't silencing himself anymore.
John can feel the pain in Sherlock's mind easily and immediately gets angry. Who the hell is in the flat and how dare they? John pulls out his mobile and texts Lestrade and Mycroft. John finally finds the fire escape that leads to John's bedroom and starts to climb it, his thoughts angry and open to keep connected to Sherlock. He can see the man's mouth moving but Sherlock isn't recognises the words, due to pain or general disinterest, John wouldn't put it pass the detective to ignore an intruder because they bored him.
"John, I think they are looking for you." John sighs, John stops climbing for a minute. Who would be looking for him? John shakes his head and climbs up to his room. When he gets to the window he notices it already open. This is how the man got in, he surprised John. The doctor slides in through the window and shuts it, locking it shut. He'll have to be more diligent on making sure that the window is locked from now on, considering how easily the intruder and John was able to get into the flat.
John toes of his shoes, to prevent more noise. He listens to Sherlock's jumbled pain and deductions of the intruder as the doctor rummages his room for his gun.
He tiptoes down the stairs avoiding the creaky ones, his gun in his hand.
He creeps along the hallway, peering into Sherlock to see where the man location is. The masked man is facing away from the door, so John peeks his head around, instantly meeting eyes with Sherlock's gray orbs. The detective's wrist are bound more meticulous than John had thought, ropes are tied around the genius creatively, wrapping around his wrists and then around the legs of the couch, securing Sherlock to the couch and preventing the genius from escaping.
"John." The sigh of relief almost makes John blow his cover. Instead he creeps silently into the room, his puts his gun into his waistband and advances silently. "John, don't." Sherlock's worried thoughts echo. John turns his head and smiles at the bound and gagged detective, who looks okay, despite the head wound and the intricate bindings.
"You know, we have a door, you could knock." John states, startling the man, jumping on him before he has the chance to raise his own gun. They both fall to the ground and John wrestles the gun out of the masked man's hands. He ends up straddling the other man, the intruder's gun now in the hands of the ex-soldier, barrel pointed at the masked man's face.
"What do you want?" John spits angrily. The intruder's eyes widen and flash brightly.
"Mr. Moriarty sends his regards." The man says simply before grabbing John's bare neck, causing John to wince at the open connection but the doctor remains focused, the man grabs the gun swiftly out of John's hand and then flips them both over. John now lays underneath him, the man weighing more than he looks. John struggles beneath the mammoth, the connection starting to smell of sewer, John tries to shut the link off, not wanting to familiarize himself with the man. The man grips his neck tighter.
"Do he know?" John can barely hear Sherlock's thoughts over the man's memories flashing through John's head. Memories of dead people, corpses laying in alleyways. The man is a hit man.
The intruder pushes his knees into John's side tighter, causing John to gasp in pain. John tries to think past the thoughts and figure out a plan.
"I don't know why boss finds you interesting but I guess I don't really care. I'm just doing my job." The intruder thinks. John blinks at him in confusion. Does he know? John doesn't give anything away, he struggles as if he didn't hear the man.
"I don't know why boss finds you interesting, I don't really care. I'm just doing my job." John gives out a sigh in relief. The man holding him down didn't like that, his eyes flash with anger and he points the gun at John's temple.
"I've been shot before, I don't really wish to be shot again," John states writhing beneath the man.
"I know Dr. Watson. I'm not here to shot you." The man states, removing the gun from John's temple and aiming at Sherlock. John eyes widen in fear.
"No. Shoot me." John cries out.
"Shut up John." Sherlock thoughts call out. John struggles harder, willingly going into the connection with the sewer smelling man and trying to find something to deter him. An image of a little blond girl with a small backpack pops up, Amelia is written on the backpack.
"What about Amelia, who will look after her when I kill you for killing Sherlock." John remarks angrily, his sides hurting from the man's grip and his neck bruising.
"How do you know about her?" The man states angrily, bringing the gun back to John, placing it right over his heart.
"John. Don't." John ignores Sherlock's pleas. The strain of two connections at once is starting to take it's toll on John, but he doesn't dare break either one, Sherlock's for comfort and the intruder's for necessity.
"Oh, so you do care about her." John teases, smiling menacingly.
"Shut up about her." The man yells and then John feels a sudden pain across his cheek. His head is thrown to one side because of the force. John, hazily, brings his head back to look at the man. "You don't get to talk about my little girl." The intruder says as John tries to focus again on his connection. A thought from the man pops into his head, it's a thought of aiming the shot to shoot Sherlock.
"NO!" John yells and using all his strength to move beneath the man, he manages to sit up a little bit and push the man back just as the trigger is fired. The room becomes quiet, but John can feel the two connections still.
"NO. SHERLOCK!" John bellows beneath the man. He looks over at the detective. His body is sprawled across the couch awkwardly, ropes preventing the genius from lying down. "Sherlock!" John screams, seeing blood seeping from the detective's shirt. Another pain hit John's face, causing him to fall back onto the ground, his head hitting the floor with a thud. Black spots invade the doctor's vision for a second. John's mind becomes fuzzy and it's getting harder and harder to be prepared for the breaking of the connection and maintaining the two bonds.
"Ah, you made me miss," The intruder says with mock sadness, leaning down to a dazed John, whispering into his ear, tightening the grip against he back of the doctor's neck. "Maybe I will wait a little bit and let the skinny guy be in pain before I kill him. I always like watching them suffer." The intruder says. John bucks his hips against the man.
"Sherlock." He gasp out between the headache forming and his vision attempting to refocus.
"I'm okay, I'm okay. It's just the shoulder." Sherlock's thoughts pierce into John's mind painfully. John struggles even more than before.
"What do yo want?" John snaps, trying to probe Sherlock's mind in order to feel how much pain Sherlock is in. John winces and gasp when he feels the shoulder pain.
"I told you Moriarty sent me." The intruder says. "And as much fun as this is, I'm pretty sure the elder Holmes will be here soon so I have to wrap it up." With that, the intruder lifts up his gun more and aims at Sherlock, this time at the head. John's fuzziness clears for a split second and is instantly replaced by pure, adulterated anger. John feels the connection and digs deep into his minds, trying to clamp onto something, anything, he wants to hurt this man, he wants the man to feel pain.
Suddenly, the intruder arches his back in pain and falls to one side, his body limp and unmoving, his grip releases John who immediately struggles away from him, panting. He grabs the man's gun and instantly runs to Sherlock.
"Sherlock. Sherlock can you hear me?" John yells at the limp form of the detective, who eyes are closed.
"Sh. Of course, stop yelling." Sherlock moans in pain. John rips open his shirt and starts to probe the bullet hole. Sherlock opens his eyes at the pain, wincing at the examination.
Sherlock's eyes scan around the room, finding anything to distract from the pain. His eyes find the unmoving intruder.
"John, what did you do?"