Moonstruck Insanity

Sherlock is bored and lonely. Not a good mix. His dark side emerges to counter these feelings. Can his first encounter with John Watson tame his dangerous side, or will even John fall prey to the sociopath, bordering on psychopath...!
*Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters. They belong to the BBC and the wonderful Mr Moffat and Mr Gatiss! The plot, however, is mine.

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5. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you I have been changed for good. - Wicked

As Sherlock checked John's phone, he decided to get back to the investigation.

"Did you kill Jack Eastwood?" He hoped getting straight to the point would allow John to open up.

"Of course not! Why on earth would you think that? I had little to no contact with him!"

John sound very indignant, but there was no guilt or fear in his voice. Although Sherlock was not one to feel emotions, hell, he was a self proclaimed high functioning sociopath, but he knew how to read other people's emotions. This man was not guilty. Disappointed, Sherlock looked up from the screen, and handed back the phone.

Suspiciously, John checked it for anything unusual. Ah , of course. He still had trust issues. Not good. Sherlock asked John a few more questions about the investigation. However, John had withdrawn into himself after the accusation. His answers consisted of short, clipped words that did little to help Sherlock. As the talk went on, Sherlock became more and more interested in John, and less interested in the answers he was giving. At some point, he decided that it didn't matter who murdered Jack. Lestrade could sort this one out. He had more important things to do.

"I'm looking for a flat-mate. Care to pick up the invitation?" Out of the blue came this question, thrown casually at John. It broke through his mental shield, allowing an expression of surprise to form on his face.

"How did you...?"

"How did I know? Well, it's simple really..."

And Sherlock was off again. He loved the expressions people come up with when he deduce facts about their life that they thought were secret. Mainly shock, revulsion and distrust. John, however, was different in this aspect as well. His face just showed amazement as Sherlock concluded his spiel.

"Well?" Sherlock finished, looking expectantly at John, siting flummoxed across from him.

"What about the case?" John answered, stalling for time.

"It can wait. You're far more interesting." The predatory grin on Sherlock's face should have warned the other man off, but it didn't.

"I don't even know your name, or even where your flat is!"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street."

John grinned."Why not? What have I got to loose?"

What indeed, Sherlock thought, as his trap snapped shut, the smile that didn't quite reach his eyes still on his face.

The duo left the building, not stopping to explain what was going on to a bewildered Lestrade. They caught a cab, John marvelling at how fast the consulting detective could hail a cab.

"Baker Street," Sherlock told the cabby.                                                        

 And that concludes the meeting of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. However, as John would be quick to discover, Sherlock was not all that he seemed...

Sherlock's dark side emerged soon into their new flatmate relationship...

"Sherlock, for the last time, I'm going out!" John cried out in despair of his eccentric friend. Sherlock stood his ground, smirking. This only funnelled Johns determination.

"No you're not. You are staying here to help me."

"For gods sakes, Sherlock, stop trying to control my life! I only want to go out with Sarah!"

Sherlock felt a rush of contempt towards the woman, trying to take his property like that! He surged forward, pushing John against the wall with a satisfying crunch.

"You do what I say, when I say so. You belong to me, John Watson. Remember it," he snarled savagely before dropping the smaller man and sauntering into the kitchen.

John lay there, stunned. He had got flashes of this darker side of Sherlock, but never before been on the receiving end. He realised with a start that his increased heart rate and erratic breathing were because he was frightened of this dangerous Sherlock, of what his 'friend' could and would do to him in this state. He brought his hand up to his fevered brow, and realised he was shaking. What had just happened?

Incidents like this kept happening. Sherlock wanted to control John; his social life, job, and most of all, his home life. But John wasn't a pushover. Far from it...

He had had enough! No more was Sherlock going to order him around like a pet. This time when Sherlock started getting violent, John was ready for him. He attacked Sherlock with all the pent up rage inside him. Once he had him in a headlock (which was quite a feat as Sherlock was head and shoulders taller than him) the other man spoke.

"You just keep on surprising me, Mr-plain-ordinary-Watson!"

"You forgot, Sherlock, I was in the army, I killed people!" Johns voice was far from the calm façade Sherlock was putting on.

"You were a doctor!" Sherlock's was strained as the doctor tightened his grip around his neck.

"I had bad days!"

At the end of that little escapade, things got better...well, a little bit anyway. Sherlock no longer stopped John from having friends, or socialising with them. He was making a big effort to control himself, John noticed, and was extremely pleased and proud of his friend. For they were friends, John was Sherlock's only friend. They both changed so much during the coming months, for each other, and for themselves.

Mycroft smiled as he listened to the pair chattering. Maybe John might just turn out to be a good thing for Sherlock. He may even nudge him in the right direction to become the great man he makes himself out to be. They were on the right track; John was already taming Sherlock's dark side.

"...and then the murderer ran himself into a wall, trying to escape us!" John laughed, as they sat in front of a roaring fire in 221B, reminiscing.

"Oh, that was a good case!" cried Sherlock, breaking into a grin.

"And Anderson..."

They sat there late into the night, sharing stories and fond memories. Two friends, a most unlikely friendship, an ex-sociopathic consulting detective and an ex-army doctor side by side, not perfect by any means. Love in the form of friendship is love in its rawest form - a prefect cure for loneliness.

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