John Watson: is Unstable

Part Three
Fractured, Not Broken

Lestrade was worried. He was glad to have John back, ecstatic even, but it must have been traumatic for him. He knew it had been traumatic for him. Ever since Mycroft picked him up from off the curb outside of Moriarty's flat, John had acted strange. He had every right to, of course, but he refused to have anyone help him. He didn't want to see any doctors, or therapists, he barely seemed to want to seem them. Mycroft managed to talk Sherlock into staying with him while John got situated back at home. Lestrade agreed. John needed space and room to breathe and understand that everything would be okay now.

It was clear John was not in his right mind. Lestrade had seen the mess he had left behind. Moriarty and his henchman deserved it, but it was likely a huge strain on John's mental health. He didn't want to talk to anyone and though it was hard to get anything out of Sherlock, it was clear by his black eye that John wasn't interested in getting cuddly. Lestrade was sure it wasn't malice, though. John probably already regretted it, and most likely struck in panic. Greg wanted to know what they'd done to him, but if Mycroft knew, he wasn't saying anything. He expected Mycroft not to leave this unpunished, but again, the man wasn't speaking a word about the contained Moriarty.

It was torturous waiting to hear from John. Even when John did leave the flat, Mycroft watched him like a hawk now, it was more like watching a confused rabbit make circles before dashing back to safety. He would wandered out, make a small circle around the street and then go right back inside. Obviously he was scoping everything out. Eventually, Lestrade simply couldn't wait anymore. John needed help whether he was going to accept it or not. Greg managed to catch John on one of his few outings.

"John," he spoke carefully. John jumped and turned on Greg as if he'd pulled a gun on him. Seeing it was Lestrade, he swiftly came down, of course, but unfortunately it wasn't much friendlier. It broke the old DI's heart seeing the man he loved like this.

"Greg. Hi."

"Hi," Greg returned with a calming smile. It didn't calm John, though, but rather it made him for suspicious. "How are you doing?"

"Well, for the last year I was convinced I was an Agoraphobe so now everytime I go outside, I have a mini panic attack," he explained and Lestrade had the feeling John was bitter towards him. He preferred to think that it was towards 'them' for not rescuing him sooner.

"We can help you if you let us," Lestrade reminded him weakly and helpfully. It was a very bad idea to push John into doing anything right now and the DI didn't want to be on the end of one of his panics. It was all too well known that the short doctor was stronger than he looked.

"Yes," John sighed in frustration. "I know. I really do, Greg, but it's hard," he admittedly tensely, as if Lestrade would turn around and use the information against him. "I think everyone's out to get me and I can't stop. I don't know if they're not."

"We're not," Greg only suggested.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," John barked back. Greg held up his hands in surrender. John sighed again, still incredibly frustrated with himself most of all.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I really don't mean it. It's just difficult, that's all. I just- a year is a bloody long time." He pushed his hair back, delicately thin lips curved into a frown.

"If you talk to Sherlock, could you tell him he can come back home. I didn't mean to punch him like that. He left his mobile in the flat."

"Yeah. Of course," Lestrade assured him gently. He wished he could offer more help, but he knew the more he pushed, the more John would retreat. He just needed space, Lestrade told himself, and tried not feel too upset. He couldn't help but feel guilty, and he knew the Holmes did too. They should have found him sooner so they could prevent this from happening.

"We actually kind of wanted to talk to you about something. Together," Greg insisted softly. The idea seemed to panic John, though. He was clearly terrified to be near any of them, let alone all of them and any attempt to make him would surely end up in fight that would rival even Moriarty's right hand. Thankfully, John seemed to calm himself down. He nodded quickly.

"You're right. We do. We all need to talk," the blonde agreed. Lestrade didn't like this anymore than he did and he doubted this conversation was going to go anywhere soon. It was too soon to try to make John do anything, but they were right. Something had to be said before anyone could properly help John. They were all walking on broken glass and in doing so were doing more damage to themselves than they were helping John.

"Can I come inside?" Lestrade asked softly, motioning to the door. John glanced over his shoulder nervously. He nodded again.

"Yeah," John answered lowly, unlocking the door to sooth his own worry and quietly allowing the detective inside. John went about making tea. At least he seemed calmer in his own home. He wouldn't uncover the windows, clearly, and any unusual sounds instantly drew his attention, but he was calmer. The Holmes appeared together. Lestrade was far too aware of Sherlock staying with his brother for the moment. They both found it necessary to complain to him since John was incapable of taking and handling their problems. Lestrade, admittedly, handled their problems a little differently and very well might have been making them worse.

The three of them sat closely together on the couch to allow John the comfort of keeping them all in sight. First came the awkward silence, each waiting for another to speak first. John helped it along gracefully.

"I know it's not fair for me to prolong this any further." Not that he had exactly planned for it to go this way. He hadn't exactly thought this out as Richard Brook. He glanced over the three crowded on the couch and nearly smiled a little. Before he could continue, however, Sherlock interrupted him.

"I agree," he gave a single, curt nod. Mycroft glowered at him from the other side of Lestrade. "It has been over a year and I think we've waited long enough," Sherlock continued without the slightest waver. Of course, one couldn't expect him to he faltered by his brother. John sighed with clear agitation. Lestrade rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sherlock was going to make John upset. Again.

"And considering you've lost a year, I doubt you're any further towards your choice then when you 'left'," Sherlock cleared his throat a little. This wasn't getting any better, but they were all hoping it was actually going somewhere. Often times, it was, but it was Sherlock and he did currently have hurt feelings so there was really no telling.

"So I have an unorthodox suggestion." That was in no way specific and only managed to make everyone else more anxious of his conclusion. Sherlock's methods were always unorthodox, but that never stopped him before. "It would be unfair to all of us involved to ask you to choose after the circumstances. You haven't had the time to consider and we were far too concerned with getting you back to even think what would happen when he finally did. While you were being held by Moriarty, you were under the assumption that you had two boyfriends." John visibly flinched at the reminder. Mycroft scolded his brother with a cold stare. He just seemed to be striving to make John uncomfortable.

"Taking that into consideration, I suggest that you continue to be romantically involved with all of us."

"Uh. Temporarily?" John offered up anxiously. He clearly wasn't completely on board with this. However, neither was Lestrade or Mycroft for that matter.

"More permanently," Sherlock assured him. John fell silent, torn between staring at Sherlock in disbelief and actually considering it. Sherlock was serious and clearly didn't see anything wrong with his suggestion. If it was for John, he could stand it. He would prefer to share him than lose him completely. Sherlock wouldn't admit it out loud, but without their help, it would have proved to be painfully difficult to rescue his best friend and lover. He didn't want to cause John distress and this seemed like the logical choice to prevent that. Along with the fact that his brother and the DI proved to have desirable traits and weren't completely awful all of the time, Sherlock saw no flaw in a polygamous relationship.

"It- would prove to be beneficial," Mycroft admitted after a moment. John's beige eyes closed passively and he held his nose between his index and thumb anxiously. Mycroft continued, however. It might not have appeared to be a reasonable answer coming from socially inept Sherlock, but it was. Mycroft could see the flesh behind the well thought out statement.

"Logically, it would be the best choice for you, John. Between the three of us, your needs are better tended to with clever timing. Gregory and I work very stressful and full jobs making it difficult to always be there when you need us to be, both emotionally and physically. Sherlock, however, does not. My brother and I are well known for being- emotionally distant. Gregory has proven he is very well not. I would be reasonable to this arrangement," he admitted, absently adjusting his cufflinks in a subconsciously nervous gesture. Only John could make him do unsure of himself. Fortunately, not many people could spot when he was nervous. Unfortunately, ninety percent of those people were in this room.

"I love you, John. And with that said, it is clear that I alone can not take care of you the way you deserve. Polygamous relationships have proved to be just as strong as traditional ones. I agree with my brother," Mycroft nodded smoothly, proving to be as understanding as ever. It was ridiculous at times, such as now for example. His reasoning was sound, though, as it always was, and that was unnerving, as it usually was.

"Greg?" John motioned to him, but didn't dare look at any of them just yet. It was hard to tell, but he almost seemed disappointed.

"Er," Greg wasn't entirely sure how to approach the subject. Out loud, it sounded insane, but thinking about it made it sound, well, less insane. After what John had been through, they had to do what was best for him. "I would feel better knowing that you're with someone I trust when I can't. And," he sighed patiently.

"Mycroft is right. As bloody usual. We all contribute differently and it was working well before. Everything was good, I thought, and you seemed happy up until, well," he trailed off.

"Sherlock is obsessive, and reckless, and brilliant and you clearly need that. He needs you to take care of him, and actually, we all kind of need that. I hate to admit it, but when we were losing hope, Sherlock kept looking and it's probably the only reason we found you and he obviously loves you. I've known Sherlock for years and I've never seen him take to someone like you. I mean, bloody hell, I didn't think it was possible that there would ever be anyone he would fight for. And Mycroft keeps us level. All of us. He keeps us level and safe and he won't show it, but he's probably more unsure of this situation than any of us. He keeps everything to himself because he thinks showing too much will put you in danger. I think it's good that Mycroft likes- loves. He loves you. I think it's great that you love him. It's- It's great that he's finally letting go a little. I'd- I'd be okay with this. I think I'd feel better knowing we weren't competing anymore and focus on more important things. God knows we would have known something was wrong sooner if we weren't so busy trying to- trying to bleedin' shag you," Greg huffed more aggressively than he had intended to. It was just as much as fault as it was the rest of theirs and it had gotten John in more trouble than he wanted to think about.

"I can't deal with this right now." John shook his head and pressed his face into his hands. Sherlock, and not for the first time when it came to John, was stung with guilt. John clearly wasn't ready for this, but it was likely he'd never be at this rate. Moriarty had a habit of doing more mental damage than physical and this time, it very well could be permanent.

"John," Sherlock tried with an invasive voice, doing his best to shake the man out of it with a scolding tone. John wasn't like this. He was stronger than this. It was the wrong thing to do.

"No, Sherlock! No! No! No! No Sherlock! No Mycroft! No Greg! No! I don't care! I don't! I don't want you anywhere near me! I don't want to hear your excuses! Or your explanations!" John was out of his chair swiftly and the little group of three sat in solemn, guilty silence like scolded children. The little blond leaned against the fireplace, gripping the shelf and quietly tilting his head down to calm himself and catch his breath.

"I- You left me there. All of you," John reminded them. "For a whole year. How could you do that? How could you just leave me with that psycho for a whole year? You know I'm so fucked up now that sometimes I start thinking 'hey,'" John threw his hands out a little. "'Maybe it wasn't so bad with Moriarty.' It was scary, sure, but it's bloody scary here, too, I just don't bloody notice it anymore. What was I fucking thinking?! Dating not one, or two, but three people would make enemies of national proportions. Do you know who they go for? They go for me. Arrested someone wrongly. I get attacked by their bloody family, or gang, or 'organization.' Put a psycho away? I get kidnapped to make you pay. And you don't have to do anything. You're the bloody fucking government. I get kidnapped just for fuckig ransom." John presses his forehead against the mantelpiece, shaking minutely.

"Everyone was after bloody Moriarty and I still felt safe. Sebastian would bleedin' kill anyone who came near me. He gave you a nice shiner, don't think I forgot." He blindly motioned to Sherlock.

"And yes, he's the bad guy. Do you know how fucking weird it is to see someone like Moriarty be- be- be domestic! 'He goes home and kills a puppy then plans the murder of someone and tops it off with having a nice glass of goat's blood'," John mocked.

"No! Fuck no. He just- he just watches telly. He eats food that Sebasti- Moran cooks. He reads the paper and complains about stupid bullocks and, god, is a person. And Moran, he's just in love and it's sad because he knows Moriarty doesn't comprehend it the same way he does. I mean, I was a little scared. Moriarty would fucking flip out for no reason and Sebastian showed up with bullet wounds for no reason, but it wasn't awful. I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have. I was overwhelmed and didn't think it through," John insisted to no one in particular. He shook his head and tapped his skull again the wood with regret.

"John, you're wrong," Mycroft said with an eerie sense of determination. "You're not Richard Brook. You're not in love with either of them. You're not meek, and you're not scared, and you're not this. You have to remember who you are. Not who Moriarty made you into. Richard Brook is a creation of Jim Moriarty. Of course he made you think he wasn't an abomination to the human species. He made you feel safe because that's what psychopaths do." He dared to stand, approaching the small man gently.

"We want to help you, John, and we will, but you have to let go of Richard Brook. I know they feel real and that's because they are, but that doesn't mean it was you. Nothing that happened there was you." He touched the man's shoulder gently and John turned to face him with a frown etched into his face.

"You are not Richard Brook. Had you been in your right mind, none of that would have happened. You would have escaped. You would have seen him for what he really was. You didn't do anything wrong." Mycroft gently pulled him closer, fitting his smaller form against his suit. John clung to the beige suit edges unconsciously.

"They deserved everything they got. That was the real John Watson. That was the man I know. The strong, smart man that would rather die than let anyone else get hurt by them. You really have no idea how many people you directly, and indirectly, saved the lives of. You're a fantastic, brilliant, amazing person. Please, please let us help you." He squeezed softly, finger tied together around the small of his back. John finally hugged back, face pressed firmly into his chest.

"I'm sorry Mycroft. I'm so sorry," John murmured softly, taking a relatively good grasp on his sanity again. Mycroft strokes the back of his head lovingly.

"It's okay. Everything will be fine now. Back to normal."

And ever so slowly, it did.