A/N: Hey guys! It's RAWRbby and I'm back with my third Beatles fanfic (well, technically the fourth if you count my Ringo ficlet.) Thank you everyone who have been following me since the beginning (Alexis says thanks too! LOL) and subscribing and reviewing and all that crowd. I was so pleased with the response I got for Baby, It's You that I was excited to write this fic up. Also for the new ones I haven't met yet, thank you for clicking on this story and giving me a try. It's a John story, if you haven't read the summary. I hope you guys enjoy it. I've had this idea in my head for a while now. I'm excited to write about John since he's such a complex character and there are so many things you could do with him. Yeah…I'm gonna shut up now so you guys can read. Ladies and gentlemen, Don't Let Me Down!

Disclaimer: I own nothing you are familiar with! Now I don't have to keep saying that, do I?

Oh yeah, and NOT ATU FIC!

A pair of light brown eyes peeked behind a door leading to a hallway. It scanned its surroundings, looking to see if the coast was clear. Assured that he was by himself, the person whom the light brown eyes belonged to tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway. Just as he left, he heard a

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

The man was startled but relieved when he realized who called him. "Oh, Paul it's just you. You scared me."

"Where do you think you're going John?" The dark-haired bassist repeated, putting his hands on his hips for emphasis.

John went back to where Paul was. "I'm just going out for a bit Macca, nothing to worry about. I can't stay caged up like an animal any longer. Next thing you know, they're going to stick a bottle and a hamster wheel in our room to entertain ourselves with."

"You know we're not a loud to leave this place." Paul chided. "Brian'll have your head!"

"As if he doesn't want it now, if you know what I mean." John said suggestively and began leaving again.

Paul pulled John back. "You know you'll get mauled out there. And Brian does his room checks to make sure we're all here."

"Not if I wear this." John put on a fake mustache and hat. "Remember, that's why we bought that disguise kit together? Just cover for me, please Paulie. I won't be out long. 2-3 hours tops. Brian doesn't check our room very often."

Paul stared him down for a minute, waiting for John to reconsider, but he just kept smiling. "All right. But 2-3 hours. I'm not responsible when Brian catches on after that."

John patted Paul on the shoulder and ran away. "Thanks Paul, I owe you one!" Paul watched him go off until he was out of sight. He shook his head as he went back into their room.

"I can't believe I got myself into this again."

He didn't know where he was going, but John knew he just had to get out of that prison. Funny, people usually went to hotels to get away from reality. When he got to the lifts, the attendant knew it was him and let him get in.

"Lobby please."

The ride down was silent until it stopped again on the third floor. The attendant was about to keep the elevator going but John signaled for him to let those people in. He reached inside his trench coat and pulled out his "Buddy Holly" glasses. It was perfect. He didn't like how glasses looked on him, so he never wore them out in public. But no one knew who he was and now he'd be able to see his surroundings clearly.

Three girls, who all looked to be about 15, walked into the elevator. They were too preoccupied with their conversation to take a good look at the extra person in the elevator.

"Stop making up stuff Brenda." The blonde one said.

The brunette one with cat-eye eye shadow, presumably Brenda, scoffed. "Mary, I'm not making it up. It's true! During This Boy, I could've sworn Paul stared at me for a complete five seconds!"

Mary rolled her eyes. "But you're near-sighted, remember? How could you have seen that from where we were?"

"I just know it! He was looking my way! I felt all tingly inside, so it must have been true."

The third girl, a redhead who had been quiet the whole time, cleared her throat. "Anyways guys, I don't think that concert was as good as I expected." The other two girls looked at her as if she were growing an extra head.

"Katie, please tell me you're joking."

"We just saw our favorite band in concert and you're telling me that you didn't really enjoy it?" Brenda's nostrils flared.

Katie shrugged. "I mean, I liked seeing them and all in person, but I couldn't hear a thing from all the screaming. I could hear better watching them on tv."

John couldn't contain himself any longer. "Are you talking about those Beatles?" He said in some sort of Russian accent. He saw the attendant holding back a laugh. The three girls looked at him, startled. John was afraid they had seen through his charade.

"Yes…" Mary said hesitantly. John kept going. They only seemed surprised because a strange Russian man was speaking to them.

"They all seem like good boys." John continued in his accent. "Do you girls have favorites?"

"I like Paul!"

"George!" Katie screamed.

"John is my personal favorite!" Mary joined in. John smirked. Oh, if only she knew.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. The girls carried on with their chat by themselves. John watched them leave until they were out of earshot.

"Do you think they have girlfriends?"

"I don't know, but when you're a Beatle, I bet you can have any girl you want."

"I heard John once had a girlfriend and was going to marry her, but something happened…"

John looked at the attendant and smiled. "Thanks for not giving me away."

The attendant nodded. "Anytime, Mr. Lennon."

He made his way out the revolving door and down the hotel steps. The street was surprisingly empty. Well, there were the usual city passersby but it was the opposite to yesterday. Girls crowded the streets and backed up traffic all the way to the airport. He assumed the streets were bare because the fans thought the band left the hotel already. But they'll never know.

John sighed as he walked down the sidewalk. He threw his hands in his pockets. It had been so long since he was able to walk outside as himself without getting mobbed. Now he walked these streets as a Russian detective. Or one of the photographers that followed the band around. Or a police officer. Or, to his discontent when Paul made him switch with him, a sweet little German milkmaid. If he were to leave the hotel as John Lennon, he may never play the guitar again. It was like being caught in a whirlwind. It's not that he didn't like it. Beatlemania was great. They would have wild parties after the show. Brian let them pick out girls, mostly cute lucky fans from the show, for a good shag. But it was nice to have time to himself.

John was walking aimlessly. He found himself following a pattern: walk straight, turn at a corner, walk straight, turn at a corner. It didn't matter which way he turned, just as long as he didn't walk into a dead end. He turned around and noticed he already lost sight of the hotel. Great. I hope Paul is really good at making up spontaneous stories. He turned back around and saw that he was standing in front of a brick building.

"Warren G. Harding Public Library." He read out loud to himself. It had also been a while since John had been to a library. He was itching for something good to read. He finished reading the supplements they left you in the hotel rooms, like the magazines and even the Bible. John made up his mind and pulled open one of the double doors. I might as well make the most of my time out.

He knew libraries were quiet, but not that quiet. The way he swung the door open made a loud squeaky noise. The librarian behind the circulation counter shot him a dirty look and put a finger to her lips.

"Sorry." John whispered and smiled bashfully. The librarian rolled her eyes and went back to stamping books. He walked around the maze of bookshelves. He wasn't looking for any reading material in particular, just a quiet place to find a book and read it alone. He found himself at the back of the library. There were two big leather armchairs across from each other and a simple coffee table in between them. It was off to the corner with a huge bookshelf in front.

John took a random book off the shelf and sat in one of the armchairs. Finally feeling at peace and that he was safe, he took off the hat, fake mustache, and glasses and set them down on the coffee table. He opened the book to the first chapter and began reading.

After reading the first couple pages, he set the book back down. That didn't work. John was even more bored than when he was in the hotel room. At least then he had the company of his mates. He looked at the cover. Knitting: A Past-time not just for the Past. He looked up at the sign and saw he was in the do-it-yourself section. Well, that explains why he was so bored. He was so comfortable in the chair that he didn't bother getting another one.

John looked around at the library. From what he could see as he walked into the joint, school was still in session. High school and college students busied themselves with readings. Some students grouped together at one table. Their backpacks slung over chairs and research, seeing as they were in the research section of the library, books piled high on the tables. Every now and then after reading from their books, they scribbled something into their journals. Those students seemed frazzled, as if they had been there for hours doing school work. Other kids were just like him: snuggled into one of the library's warm, comfy seats and reading a book intently without a care in the world.

She was one of those kids. She always liked going to the library, even if we didn't have homework. John mentally slapped himself for thinking about her again. He didn't know why, but sometimes thoughts of her randomly came into mind; and recently, even more than he wanted. Maybe it was because they were now in America or because of the girls' conversation at the hotel earlier. John propped his legs up on the coffee table and put his arms behind his head. It was years since he'd last seen or heard from her. But he had to admit, it was partially his fault. He figured by now he would have forgotten about her like those one-night stands he's had his fair share of. And those said one-night stands were supposed to help him forget about her. Obviously they didn't help. She was out of his mind just as much as the Beatles were out of a majority of the world's teenage girl population's minds during Beatlemania. But John couldn't deny those were fun nights. He was a guy, mind you.

John looked up and closed his eyes. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the high school girls peeking and giggling through the bookshelf at him, trying to figure out if it was actually him.