John Watson: is Unstable

Notes: I'll be posting these in parts from now so I can get them up faster and the read is easier.

Part One
The Rescue

It wasn't often John awoke after going to bed for the night especially after a rather fond night of activity between his two boyfriends, but the noise of Jim's cell phone roused him easily for no good reason. It wasn't his mobile though, so he only minutely raised his head from Sebastian's chest to see where the noise came from. He never bothered with Jim's phone and this time was no different. He was curious as to who could be calling at such an early hour, however. It was already six in the morning, but their life didn't begin until at least ten. Jim was a genius and therefore, partially nocturnal. Sebastian could sleep as if it were a switch that simply turned on and off in the back of his head and John was growing accustomed to doing the same.

Sebastian brought an arm around his neck though their height difference made it seem more like a choke hold than a loving embrace. Sometimes John wasn't sure that it wasn't. The man watched him, he knew. Sometimes it was simply to watch him, sometimes it was like how he watched Jim; as if John were going to strike him. The man was simply paranoid: John would never do that. Jim did enough of that to Sebastian all on his own. His smaller lover lay on the other side of the meat-barrier, all too innocent looking as he clung to Sebastian's other arm possessively and entangled both of his legs with one of his lover's larger legs. This picture was complete without him and John wondered sometimes if he really did have Sebastian to himself before they met Jim. Hopefully he would remember soon, though if it was bad, he wasn't fully sure he wanted to know. Why did he need to know the bad stuff, after all?

He couldn't go back to sleep now so John nudged Sebastian's arm off of him, heavy as it was, and climbed out of bed. The sniper grunted and frowned, but didn't seem to waken. They usually didn't. John tiredly exited the room and quietly showered. It was so peaceful in the morning. They were so high up, the noise of London down below was lost. Now was a time when Jim wasn't yelling, and the telly wasn't on, and Sebastian wasn't cleaning his guns, nor was the lift running, or any bizarre contraptions. He dried himself off and dressed lightly. Even though he wasn't nearly as afraid of being outside as he once was, John still preferred to be indoors.

A bit of breakfast and then he would start on the mess Jim had left in the lift. It was steadily becoming clear that he was not a professor, but rather something unsavory. John pretended not to mind and he tried not to think about the poor soul splattered all over the inside of the metal box, but it bothered him. Jim had problems. It was worse than just being bi-polar, too. He was mentally ill but it was so obvious John assumed there was a reason they weren't getting him help. Probably because he would murder them if they tried, but Sebastian didn't seem all that worried about it. In fact, he seemed to make it worse and even help him.

John wasn't going to help him, but he could pretend he knew nothing about it. He loved Sebastian and there had to be a reason he liked Jim, so he was content with turning a blind eye for now. It helped, just a little, that Sebastian assured him that the people they hurt were 'the bad guys'. And who knew, maybe the poor bastard whose blood was all over the lift was still alive. It was a lot of blood, but there was a possibility. He was out of his mind just considering things like this. Maybe, before his accident, he'd been okay with this. Maybe he'd helped. Of course, it was just another reason he didn't dare mention anything.

In the midst of his thoughts and cooking, John didn't hear the scraping at the door. The door was so rarely used because of the lift that he'd completely forgotten they even had one. The sound of the lock being picked was lost under the sound of eggs frying. The steps were just as quiet and the next thing he knew, someone was behind him.

"John," the voice was hushed, but completely out of nowhere and it was definitely not Jim's.

"Oh god!" he twisted around at once, taking the large, heated pan with him. The man was tall, nearly as tall as Sebastian, but thin as a stick. His pale features looked strangely familiar and John realized that he'd seen this man before. It was the same man that came at him in the coffee shop and Sebastian had punched him in the face. Sebastian had been right in punching him.

"Shh," the stranger motioned him to be silent. John inwardly panicked. He was being stalked. This man was stalking him and now he had come to do awful things to him.

"H-how did you get in?" he questioned quietly. He didn't know it was possible to break into this flat. It was not the smartest thing to do. This man was not very smart.

"There's not a lock in the world I can't pick, John," the man insisted rather proudly.

"Why do you keep calling me that? I'm not John. You have the wrong person and you need to leave right now. I don't want you to get hurt," John hushed back quickly. Knowing Jim, he'd probably get blamed for this too and John was not about to be on the wrong side of Jim's anger. The man looked confused, then he pursed his lips firmly together.

"It's okay, John," he said firmly, "I'm taking you home."

"You have the wrong person," John replied just as tensely.

"You have to tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." Oh god, he was a crazy person.

"You're in my house, that's what's wrong," John snapped a little too loud and hurriedly brought his voice down again. They were both silent for a moment, but there was no sound of anyone being awake.

"Is this really what you want? You want to stay here with Moriarty?" The stranger looked hurt.

"He is my boyfriend."

"I was your boyfriend," he responded with a broken expression.

"I've never met you in my life," John gasped, trying to make the intruder understand. "I don't know you. I'm not John. I live here. Please," he begged. "Leave."

"You're serious," the man stated with renewed vigor. "You honestly don't remember me."

"I've never met you!" he exclaimed as quietly as he could.

"I have to get you out of here." What? That wasn't what he needed to do at all! The man grabbed him around the wrist and John struggled to get free.

"No," he said a little louder. The stranger only pulled him harder. "No! Stop!" John swung the pan at him and it connected heavily. It got the man off of him, thankfully. He stumbled a few steps and held his shoulder in pain. John could only describe the look he was given as disbelief.

"John-" the man breathed heart brokenly.

"Get out." John warned. He was tired of playing this game. The intruder opened his mouth to argue, but he wasn't allowed.

"Get out! Jim! Sebastian! Help! Help!" A smart person would have ran for the door and begged that they got there first, and John was assured that this man wasn't smart. Instead, he tried to quiet him.

"Stop," the stranger hissed lowly. "I'm trying to help you," he insisted, but John didn't believe that. Sebastian was out of the room in a heartbeat, already armed and only in pants. Jim followed close behind, unsurprisingly less dressed. No one seemed to currently care that he was naked. He patted Sebastian on the arm heavily.

"Put it down, stupid. What's going on, Richard?" he questioned with a lazy yawn. John hurriedly moved away from the intruder to stand beside his safety. Sebastian lowered his weapon but placed a protective hand out to the smaller blonde man.

"He broke into the flat. There's something wrong with him. He keeps calling me 'John'."

"This is just Holmes, Richard. He's a little confused," Jim assured him. The stranger frowned.

"Sherlock Holmes? This is Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's really fallen from grace. Why don't you go home, love? Before a certain someone gets shot to death," Jim hummed slowly. Sherlock seemed to think about the suggestion. Sebastian's cold look promised him that if he wasn't careful, John would be out of the game. So he quietly made his leave, but his blue eyes warned of the cold fury that boiled in his mind.

o-o-o

Sherlock carried the information back to his brother with the intent of his help. It wasn't often he asked Mycroft for help, but this situation was different. John was lost but not in the way that they originally thought. He had no idea who he was and if Sherlock was right, Moriarty probably had him deathly afraid to go anywhere near him him. If he tried to go back and convince his little blonde doctor, he'd only be putting himself in danger. The very thought that Moriarty had made John afraid of him made Sherlock's skin crawl in a way it never had before.

If Mycroft's response of anything to go by, he was under the same feelings. Did Moriarty really think he'd get away with something like this? That they would just back off after something like this? Of course he wouldn't. That of course, meant that he would hurt John if they tried anything. He didn't have to threaten them for them to know that he would. That didn't change the problem and it didn't make them change their minds.

Lestrade's response was to curse like a sailor. Sherlock had a feeling he'd been holding that in for a while. Once he was done and had successfully riled himself up, they threw their rivalry straight out the window. After that, it was fairly easy to formulate a plan worthy of rescuing John from his mental hell.