After the break in, Moriarty didn't change the locks. Sherlock wasn't surprised. He was getting in over his head with his cockiness. The door was opened in half the time it had taken him the first time. Everything was perfectly timed, despite the unstable environment John found himself trapped in. It was nearly impossible to plan to work with Moriarty's schedule in advance, but by controlling outside sources, they created a window of time in which time could execute everything. Once entering the flat, they were all clear on the fact that everything could change in an instant. Fortunately, things ran smoothly so far and the flat was dark and empty. It was early morning, but if the CCTV cameras were anything to go by, Moriarty, & co., had gone to bed only an hour or two ago.

Sherlock proceeded to make small noises about the kitchen, careful not to make it seem too obvious or too loud. Just the smallest rustle of the kitchen and as expected, it roused the sleeping man. Sebastian wandered out of the bedroom to sleepily examine the source of the noise and make sure that it wasn't a dangerous situation. Lestrade surprised him from behind. He was fully awake instantly and a struggle ensured. The man was taller and bigger than him, but like their last fight, it didn't immediately assure his victory. It was slightly more difficult to keep their dispute quiet, however. Things would go much smoother if they could deal with them one at a time.

Fortunately, any stray shots were already silenced by the weighted down muzzle and Lestrade was relatively out of harm while he was behind the man. That didn't mean Sebastian wasn't decently flexible, catching him in the face more than once with the extension on his gun. Unlike last time, help was not welcomed. If Lestrade had a choice, he would have broken everything in the flat with Moran's face. That would be loud, however, and wasn't what needed to happen right now. Hopefully he'd get another chance later.

Lestrade caught the man's arms around his shoulders, pinning them up and locking his fingers together behind the muscular, tattooed throat. Sebastian retorted by throwing his entire weight back and smashing the smaller DI firmly against the wooden ground. The Holmes worried that the noise might have woken Jim too early.

Holy mother of all that was good- this man was heavy! Lestrade was sure he felt one of his lungs burst, but he didn't dare loosen his grip. He leveraged himself against the ground firmly and wrapped his legs around one of his victim's, successfully subduing him for the moment. Sebastian didn't remain that way long and was already working his way into a better position.

"Holmes," Lestrade hissed under his breath for either, or both, of them. Mycroft swiftly came to his assistance and one well placed wing tip left Moran unconscious. The DI waited until he was sure the man wasn't faking before letting him go and hurriedly pushing him off. Sherlock patiently shoved a needle into the sniper's neck. Lestrade didn't ask what it was. He hurried to his feet and breathed deeply. Every inch of his chest and back would likely be bruised by tomorrow.

"You kicked him in the face," Lestrade whispered as Mycroft placed a hand below his shoulder blades, pressing him into a better position to catch his breath.

"I did," Mycroft answered back.

"Thank you." Lestrade gave him a curt nod. The older Holmes only smiled minutely. Thankfully, the noise did not awake Moriarty and it was another fifteen minutes before the smaller man came searching for his best man. Unlike Sebastian, he was far more suspicious, cautious, and dangerous. Mycroft nonchalantly watched the sedated Moran, giving Moriarty no attention just yet.

"Oh. Sebastian. You stupid cunt," Jim yawned, but his face didn't expose any of his feelings.

"If it helps. He didn't go down too easy," Lestrade scoffed sarcastically.

"I should kill you where you stand, James," Mycroft reminded him carefully, as if the man had forgotten what he had done in the past. "I can't, obviously. You've likely done something to John and we can't risk it just yet."

"You mean poison?" Jim mused amusedly.

"Explosives," Lestrade added.

"Mental binds," Sherlock snipped.

"I haven't done anything to him. Well, maybe that last one, but I doubt you need me for that." The psychopath chuckled even as he plainly removed any reason for them not to kill him. Mycroft was in no mood for games, however, and given the circumstance it was no time to test his nerves, either. In the blink of an eye, he caught Jim on the handle of his umbrella, cutting through his skin with ease and leaving a long, red mark from the left side of his forehead, over his nose, and across the right cheek. The shorter male didn't even flinch but Mycroft made his point clear.

Moriarty lunged at him. Sherlock hadn't expected him to want a fight and instantly he knew that Jim didn't. What he did want, however, was for Mycroft to beat him up to keep John's pity and mercy. Even knowing this, Sherlock did nothing to stop it and Mycroft gave him exactly what he wanted. As long as Moriarty came at him, Mycroft struck him. He continued on until Jim was black and blue and swollen and even then, Mycroft wasn't satisfied.

Finally, Moriarty stopped and Mycroft shoved him into the wall with the tip of his umbrella. The shorter man smirked and laughed, face covered in blood, lip busted, and a tooth or two chipped. It was very tempting to rid the world of his threat now, but Mycroft resisted.

"Tie him to the banister. Tightly." He motioned to Lestrade with a small jerk of the head. The DI hurriedly tangled his adroit hands as tightly and awkwardly as possible in hopes of preventing him from escaping. If their warnings were anything to go by, Lestrade wasn't sure the zip ties would hold him. Mycroft nodded to his brother.

Sherlock hurried down the hall, swiftly but cautiously. The hope was that Moriarty wasn't going to blow up his own flat, but there was no telling. Everything was going smoothly so far, it was only a matter of time before they hit a snag. Sure enough, they did. Sherlock was in the room for a grand total of two seconds before he was backing out again. John steadily followed him, the hand pistol aimed firmly and unwavering on Sherlock.

"John-"

"Richard, I'm glad you could join us," Jim purred happily. John only removed his eyes from the man in front of him for a few seconds, glancing over the beaten-up Jim before swiftly looking over Sebastian and back again. It was clear he wasn't too happy about what they'd done to his fake boyfriends.

"John. Please. Put that down. We need to talk." Mycroft attempted to console the disoriented man. John's eyes darted to him and for a moment, almost looked thoughtful, as if he was going to consider it just because it was Mycroft.

"Richard." Then it was gone. "Don't. They're liars. They'll attack you as soon as you let your guard down," Jim insisted with a faux look of desperation.

"Moriarty's the liar here, John," Sherlock tried to persuade him. "We'd never hurt you."

"Look what they did to Sebastian, Richard. Do you really think they won't hurt you, too?"

"Moran would kill you the minute Moriarty told him to, John," Lestrade helpfully countered.

"Don't believe them, Richard," Sebastian groaned, attempting to pick himself back onto his hands and knees but it was obvious his body wasn't going to respond under the drug. Lestrade hurriedly pressed a foot into his back, just in case.

"Get away from him!" John shouted swiftly, carefully warning the man with his pistol. Lestrade cautiously backed away from Sebastian.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded.

"Sedation. It'll wear off. Just put the gun down, John. We're not armed. We just need to talk to you."

"Lies, Richard. That one's a crooked cop. That one has a blade in his umbrella. And that one doesn't need any weapons."

"John, please just listen," Mycroft used his very best presentation voice.

"Don't Richard."

"We want to help you John."

"They're going to hurt you, Richard." John appeared to be on the edge of a break down. His entire being wanted to believe the three strangers, but his mind was telling him that Jim was his safe haven. His body wracked with the small tremors that exposed his inner turmoil.

"For god's sake, you're name's not Richard, John! Moriarty's a psychopath! He did something to you. He made you forget," Lestrade yelled in frustration. This wasn't going the way they said it would. John wasn't remembering.

"Why would I do that, Richard? What could I possibly have to gain from that? If you won't believe me, you have to believe Sebastian. He'd never lie to you," Jim insisted, motioning to the limp man with a jerk of the head. Sebastian was fighting the sedation with tooth and nail, unknowingly clawing at the ground.

"I love you Richard," he managed to slur haphazardly.

"We love you, John," Lestrade tried desperately.

"I love you, Richard," Moriarty breathed gently.

"Stop calling me that!" John exploded suddenly. The room fell silent and grim as the little doctor desperately gathered his breath and thoughts. On the other side, the room held its breath. It was too close to decipher where John was tilting. The blonde man gripped his head in his hands, cautious with the gun in his palm. His choice became obvious when he focused the barrel on Sherlock once again, firmly and unflinching.

"My name's not John, you crazy cunt. I want you and your friends to leave me alone. I don't know what's wrong with you, or why you're stalking me, but it has to stop. The next time to come around, I'll let Jim handle you," he warned viciously. He motioned to the door with his gun.

"Now get out."

"John," Sherlock uttered, holding back any betraying emotion. John fired a single shot, inches above the mess of black hair.

"I said out. Or the next one goes in your face," he warned. His eyes held no mercy, or remembrance, for Sherlock. Mycroft placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, ushering him to come along. There was no point in putting themselves in danger. If John really didn't remember, then there was nothing stopping him from viewing them as intruders and attackers. They had misjudged John's mental state.

John kept the gun trained on them until the door was tightly closed. He cautiously and suspiciously waited for the sound of feet descending down stairs before rushing to Sebastian's side. He rolled him over quickly, checking his pulse and any wounds he might have received. John gently pressed his forehead to Sebastian's.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. Sebastian managed a small nod and a gasp of 'yeah'. He'd be pretty badly bruised, but that wasn't unusual for him. John quietly kissed him, relieved that he'd be alright. He quickly moved to help Jim, knowing he wasn't nearly as used to being treated like this. The man didn't seem to mind, though.

"I'm so sorry, Jim," he murmured softly, checking his boyfriend's wounds to make sure none of them were too bad.

"It's fine, Richard. It's not your fault. Maybe one day you'll remember why they're crazy about you. Though I can see why everyone would be crazy about you."

"This isn't a joke, Jim," John demanded.

"I know. Just seeing you hold that gun makes me frisky," Jim giggled as if he was high on the situation. John hurried to the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit and a pair of scissors.
That was too close for comfort. Sebastian shot Jim a look and he was ignored. Things wouldn't have gone well for them if he had remembered. It was a wonder he hadn't remembered. The situation was getting worse. John cut Jim free from his binds and tended to his open cuts, a worried expression on his face the entire time. When he was done, he attacked the minutely taller man in a fierce hug.

"Don't ever do that to me again," he warned angrily.

"Do what?"

"I know perfectly well you were capable of diffusing that situation before it got out of hand."

"They surprised me, Richard. What did you expect me to do?"

"No one surprises you, Jim," John reminded him pointedly. Jim only chuckled. "Help me get Sebastian back into bed. It'll probably be awhile before the sedation wears off."

o-o-o

[ A man laughing, his face is flushed and the noise is deep and John finds it infective.

A man laughing, a small, adorable laugh and a slightly curved pale lips that heats fire in John's belly.

A man laughing, a small puff of a chuckle and a low rumble of the chest and John knows it's going to be okay.

A man laughing: it's indifferent and forced, making John weary and unloved.

A man laughing hysterically. The noise is so loud it drowns out any though John had and he only feels anger. How dare he laugh as if he'd won something. Did he think he could get away with this? Of course he could because he had. He had gotten away with everything. He'd played John as a fool, strung him up and made him dance and that made John vengeful.

A man laughing as if he weren't a man at all, but an immortal beast that couldn't be touched by any means. John knew that wasn't true, though. John knew there was very little he said that was true.

"I don't love you, you stupid cunt!"

"Watch me make your boyfriend's dance."

"Watch me break them, John."

"Watch me and know there's nothing you can do, you stupid, stupid little man."

But there was something he could do.

He could start being John Watson again.]

John opened his eyes calmly against the darkness of his room. It wasn't his room, though. It was a prison laced with lies and he was in bed with his warden and his guard dog. He knew exactly how long he'd been here and what they'd managed to convince him. Even more so, what he'd done under those convincing lies. John felt sick to his stomach. Then he felt angry like he never had before.
Moriarty had pushed his luck and it was going to cost him.

o-o-o

Jim groaned softly as he awoke. He stretched himself out a little and wrapped his arms tighter around his sniper's arm. He pressed his face into the tanned skin, looking for some warmth, but there was none. Sebastian must have become cold blooded in the night.

"Seb," he whined, shoved the limb away from him. There was nothing to shove, he quickly discovered. Jim opened an eye and the space beside him was empty save the severed limb of his tiger. Sebastian was certainly going to have a hard time snipping without that. He sat up a little, unsurprised by the amount of blood soaked through the sheets and the marks on the floor where he was dragged across the carpet and out the door. His eyes fell on the little blond doctor seated at the end of the bed, watching him with the cold eyes of a soldier.

"I guess this means you remembered."

"You guessed right," John answered coldly. Jim chuckled to himself, and pressed a bloody hand through his hair that left marks over his forehead. He settled back in his bed a little, meeting the beige eyes with challenge.

"Where's Sebby?"

"I tied him to the sink, gave him a first aid kit, and told him how long it would take for him to bleed out. Let's hope he can stop the bleeding before he loses consciousness." John cocked the gun in his hand, making the noise echo through the quiet room. Jim hummed with amusement.

"Oh, John. You should know Sebby is a very hard man to keep tied up."

"Not as hard as you think. I'm a doctor, remember, Jim? I was an army doctor. If he wants to come and help you, he'll have to chew his own arm off. Well, I made it easier for him. I gave him a knife." He stood and brushed his knees off calmly. Jim swirled his head as if to prepare for a kill.

"You won't let him die. I know the kind of man you are." He smiled cockily, teasing the wounded corgi.

"Then you know the kind of man you turned me into." John cocked his weapon again, unneededly this time. Jim's smile fell.

"That's right, Jim. I remember everything. The bad and the good. You used me and toyed with me and humored me and you shouldn't have. Because you let me into your life, Jim. Not such a bright idea in hindsight, was it? I've seen you, Jim. I've seen you be human and now I know. You're not a man or a monster. You're a parasite. You know you're a parasite. I've watched you try to destroy yourself, I've seen you suck people into the black hole of your heart, I've seen you struggle and take it out on everything else. I'd feel bad for you if you had even the smallest amount of conscience." He approached the side of the bed and Jim watched him with the eyes of a psychopath. He was waiting for the perfect time to lunge, but John wouldn't give it to him.

"What? Do you want me to beg?"

"You can. I won't listen, but if it makes you feel better."

"So you're going to kill me, just like that? Come now, John. We both know you won't. Lies or not, you were happy and you know it."

"I was scared out of my bloody mind."

"Close enough."

"But you're right. I should. I should shoot you in the head right now and prove that I'm better than you by giving you a sweet, short, merciful death. But I won't." John fired a well aimed shot into Jim's knee. A look of pain wavered over the man's face, but he held firmly.

"That's it?" he laughed.

"Of course not. I'm going to call Mycroft and let him decide what to do with you." Another shot tore through his shoulder and blood ran down his arm. Jim's hand twitched violently against his will. Perhaps he shouldn't have shown John some of the things he had.

"Don't worry. I'll tell him not to kill you." A swift lash of the pistol rendered the man unconscious and possibly with a concussion. John hit him again, just in case, before parting from the room. He never wanted to be in this flat again, that was certain. Sebastian glanced at him from the kitchen, pale in the face and foggy in the eyes.

"John," he murmured in the same voice John had grown accustomed to in the last year. "I'm sorry." John shifted his shoulders and cocked his head.

"Not yet you're not." He approached the man, making sure he was still being followed with his eyes. Sebastian was still coherent, thankfully. John rummaged through the first aid kit, retrieving a syringe and needle. He inserted it into Sebastian's neck with a delicate touch, despite the man trying to yank away from him. He tossed it into the sink.

"That will keep you alive until someone comes to save you," John assured him, giving him a heavy pat on the back. He leaned in to speak into his fake boyfriend's ear.

"And just so you know, I hope you and he escape. I hope you escape and I hope you dare to come after me and my loved ones again. Because if you do, Sebastian Moran, I will make you wish I was as nice as Jim. And there is nothing, nothing Sebastian, in this world, or the next that would stop me."

And then John left.