Sherlock POV
When I woke, I was surrounded by all the personalities but for the Psychopath, Addict and Depressive. John was stood to side, watching me intensely and with obvious concern, and the others were awaiting instruction from the Sociopath. The nice one helped me to my feet, sympathy clear in his soft expression, and he helped me to move up to my throne. It was there that they descended upon me, stepping as close as they could manage without knowing their heads together, and my advisor - the Sociopath - came to stand at my shoulder. There was a cold look of indifference on his face, and I knew his work was nearly done. Hhe merely wanted to return to his place and fix his home, and he didn't care how much it hurt.
The others looked far more nervous, each worried that they would not survive the reattachment to my mind, or rather that I would not survive and they would perish alongside me, and I could see John look away. He was glaring at a spot on the wall, but when he looked back at me it was with sadness, rather than anger. The anguish was clear in his eyes, and I wanted to tell him that he was an idiot for worrying. I was the one who should be worried. He was just a figment of my imagination, he would just disappear if I died, and the real John was out there. This one wasn't real, why did he bother with caring? I knew the answer to that one, because he was John. John cared. Always. Real or imagined.
"All of you take hold," said the Sociopath. They did as instructed, latching on to any part of my body that they could reach, and the sociopath took my head in his hands, staring into my eyes.
"After we do this, your personality will forever be altered. You will still be Sherlock Holmes, but you not any Sherlock that we have ever known. You will be a combination of us all, and the man you were destined to be. Do you accept this change, and what you will become?" I paused. I was happy with who I was, I had never wanted to change, but there was John. He was watching me closesly. He would never expect me to change for him, but what if I did? What if I understood what he needed, and could empathise, just a little bit better? I could be the man John deserved as his friend, and possibly more. I could make the change, and I would do it for John. To keep him in my life, for the rest of my life.
"Then brace yourself."
I nodded and clasped the arms of the throne, the nerves bubbling in my stomach.
It was then that it happened, and all I could do was look into the pained blue depths of John's eyes and beg them to help me.
Blinding pain. That is the only way I can describe what came next. I was screaming as they entered me, reattaching to me and altering everything that I was; adding their kindness, their skill, their lust and their childish glee. Memories flashed across my eyes and their screams melded with mine. For all the good they were doing, I could still feel the horrific pain. John was begging them somewhere in the distance to stop it. I could hear him desperately trying to help, but it was too late. They were burning me, their bodies forcing their way through me and altering me not only mentally, but also emotionally. I was seeing all of the abuse, feeling the pain of the violence and assaults of my childhood and the men, and all of the attacks felt raw and unbearable.
Suddenly, I couldn't scream and John's voice was gone in the white-noise of pain and memories. I was tapped in never ending agony, and I was alone as I silently begged for it to end... no matter what it took.