I do not own Sherlock
This won't be like season 3. However it will have links.
Please leave a review telling me what you liked and what you didn't like about it!
WARNING: Contains drugs, torture, violence. Also some Johnlock moments!
It had been two years...
Two years since Sherlock was taken from him. John looked in the mirror and sighed. He had moved on with his life and forgotten about him. Well as much as his brain would allow. He knew about Anderson losing his job, how he obsessed over Sherlock and how... He thought the great detective wasn't dead.
He wasn't there. He didn't witness the fall and the aftermath. He only heard about it on the news. The headline played through his mind. 'Suicide of Fake genius'. John, turned away from his reflection and got out of his pyjamas and into his work clothing.
Sherlock, over the last two years had been, busy. Searching the world for... Anything.
He didn't like doing nothing, waiting until he was forgotten. Travelling sounded boring, travelling and solving cases sounded more like his cup of tea. That was exactly what he did for two years, he never took credit for it though. Imagine the fuss that would be made if everyone discovered the truth about how Sherlock faked his death and fled the country.
He ran into some trouble in Russia. Apparently someone who murdered an entire family didn't want to go to prison, rot for the rest of his life. This murdered had friends who could hunt people down in an instant and make them wish they were never born. They had something else in mind for the great detective.
Something worse...
Sherlock was planning to move from that country after the threats he received from the serial killer. That was the clever thing to do. Ask Mycroft for help, for a ride out of the country. He cringed at the thought of Mycroft's smug face when he asked him for help. Therefore he would call Mycroft. He has people everywhere, ready to pounce if the time came.
Sherlock took out his phone and dialled the number. Luckily Mycroft helped Sherlock fake his death so it wouldn't be a shock when his phone called him up. Mycroft answered.
"Sherlock?" Mycroft sounded confused, his brother never called him unless it was a dire situation. Sherlock explained his situation to Mycroft. "All right... I can get someone over. I think you're just overreacting though Sherlock." Sherlock headed out of the hotel he was temporarily staying in and headed towards the building Mycroft said he should go to.
"I'm not overreacting Mycroft! I've heard of what this man can do to people!"Sherlock started to walk down the street until he noticed someone following him. Sherlock felt nervous and kept looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't doing anything.
Sherlock turned his body to discover that the man had gone. Sherlock looked around only to be punched. Luckily Sherlock was still on the phone to Mycroft so he could call someone to help him. The powerful punch caused him to be knocked off balance. Another muscular man appeared with a needle and jabbed Sherlock in the neck. He shot a liquid into his blood and Sherlock collapsed to the ground.
He knew what came next.
Sherlock awoken in a cell made of large stone bricks, quite medieval. There was a dim light straight ahead. He couldn't see anything else as his vision was blurry. Sherlock was on the cold ground in shackles. A phone was also on the floor in front of him. "Go ahead, call him." The man was in the corner, Sherlock hadn't noticed him before, "Really call him, I want him to know you are missing!" He had a Russian accent.
Sherlock picked up the phone and called Mycroft. It ringed for quite a while until it was picked up. "Hello?" Mycroft didn't know it was him, clearly not Sherlock's phone then.
"Hello?" Sherlock's voice was quiet as if he hadn't used it in years. "Mycroft?"
"Sherlock!?" Mycroft's voice was frightened and drowning in concern. "Sherlock where are you?"
"I-I don't know." Sherlock's stuttered. "What happened?"
"You were attacked, I heard everything over the phone and then it cut off. How have you got a phone?"
"There's someone here and I woke up with the phone, he told me to call you." Sherlock was wondering himself why his captor told him to call his brother. How did his captor even know about his brother? His captor strolled over to Sherlock who was sitting staring at him and whispered in his ear. Sherlock suddenly looked pale. "Mycroft, get me out of here." Sherlock was worried, he had never felt like this before.
His captor grabbed Sherlock's feet which caused Sherlock to drop the phone. Mycroft heard this and started shouting his name. Before he knew it Sherlock had been attached to the wall. His arms were the only thing holding him up. His shackles were rubbing into his skin now and his feet were dangling on the floor. Sherlock could faintly hear Mycroft and it burned him from the inside that he couldn't reply.
His back was facing his captor who was holding a crowbar. He stuck Sherlock's back. Sherlock didn't expect it and yelled just loud enough for Mycroft to hear. Mycroft was now yelling louder now. The crowbar hit Sherlock's back multiple times and by the end of it, it was bleeding, bruised and generally look a wreck.
After the first hit Sherlock no longer yelled he grunted and hung his head low. The chains stopped him from falling to the ground. Sherlock wasn't going to give in now.
His captor walked around Sherlock and took hold of the phone. He spoke with Mycroft. Made him worry. That was the worst thing he could have done. Mycroft was the government and Sherlock was his brother.
This man had started a one war man with England. It wasn't going to end nicely.
Everyday was the same for Sherlock. Beatings and a little rest, drugged, beatings and chat. He was sure a couple of ribs were broken, possible punctured lung, which his captor took care of. He didn't want him to die just yet. "Are you regretting it yet, Mr Holmes?" Sherlock didn't do anything.
His captor got bored after a while. Even knives didn't do it for him. Sherlock's screams weren't enough. Calls to Mycroft weren't enough. So he decided to kill him and put him somewhere people would find the detective. A beach, let the detective drown and be sent to the beach.
That was exactly what he did.
Deciding the destination was the hardest thing. It had to be in England so they would know who is was. Close to London. He had decided. "Turns out you won't be seeing your friends again. Sorry!" Sherlock had heard all of the discussions so he knew his fate. Luckily Sherlock could swim well so he had a plan. A plan to get out of this alive, mostly.
Sherlock had been put into a van, it was dark.
He was afraid,
He was broken,
He was alone.
It was a quick journey. Once he got out he knew where he was. He came here as a child. It was quite busy here, how were they going to get him in the water without anyone noticing. Until he realised, they had done this many times before. They got someone to take him away from the beach, close enough for someone to find him.
A lot of people would suffer from this. Mycroft, because he knew his brother was in trouble and couldn't find him. John, because he thought his friend was dead, when he wasn't and now he actually was dead. Everyone he cared about would suffer. Before he was dropped in the water, his escort gave him a waterproof phone. "It's password protected, don't bother hacking it. The only thing you can use it for is to call 999. Sherlock was knocked into the water which took him by surprise.
Sherlock started to swim towards the shore. Except he was getting tired. He hadn't been swimming for long. Why was he tired. He only just realised he had gone a week without sleep, food, water and warmth. He decided to stop and call for help. His hands were shaking which made it hard to call 999. He managed though. It rang and rang.
Finally someone picked up. "Hello? What do you need?" The woman was calm which immediately made Sherlock feel better.
"I need help, please" Sherlock was worried about everything. Sherlock was crying and he didn't even realise it.
"What is your name?" Sherlock told her his name and she gave out a gasp. "But you are dead!" She remembered that this man needed help and continued to ask questions about where he was and what was happening.
She told him help would be there in a few minutes. That wasn't quick enough though. He could feel himself sinking below the surface. Sherlock pushed himself with all of his might. That wasn't enough. Sherlock lost conciousness.
He woke up choking on water with men and women surrounding him. Examining his wounds. He looked around and people had stopped building sand castles and started looking at him, in horror. They all knew he was 'dead'. He heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. It was Mycroft.
"Sherlock! Sherlock are you OK?" Mycroft knew he wasn't but he wanted to help his brother.
"Sherlock... Sherlock what hurts, we need to know if there is any more internal damage." The people surrounding him were checking him over again. Mycroft was talking to the driver of the ambulance. Sherlock could only hear certain words like "London", "They will want to see him" and his friend's names. The ambulance driver nodded.
John was at work doing paper work for a patient when he received the text. John was breathless for a while and his eyes widened as he read it.
Sherlock is in St. Bard's. He needs you.
MH
John ran out of the building and hailed a taxi. He told the driver he would pay him extra if he got him there quick. John reached the hospital where he had apparently fallen to his death. He stopped at the slab he landed on. John continued into the hospital. Lestrade was waiting for him. "He's in here" Lestrade walked into a room where a battered Sherlock was sleeping.
Sherlock woke up and looked at John. John felt like crying, his friend was alive. He felt like he was going to explode. A tear trickled down John's cheek as he walked over to Sherlock's bed. His friend's face was black and blue. He had been there for a few days now. "I thought you were dead..." John's eyes were full of tears.
"John... I'm sorry but Moriarty needed to stop." John didn't understand, but he was glad his friend was alive.
"I wanted you to not be dead..." John held Sherlock's hand which was cut and scarred.
"Yeah, well be careful what you wish for..." Sherlock smiled and cringed at the pain. John looked at Mycroft who was sat at the other side of Sherlock's bed.
"What happened to him?" John whispered as Sherlock drifted off to sleep.
"After he faked his death he travelled the world solving cases, not taking any of the credit. He was in Russia, on a case where a man had murdered an entire family. It was easy enough to solve. This man was infamous in Russia for attacking people, torturing them and eventually killing them. Sherlock was threatened by this man. He was on the phone to me, arranging transport out of the country. Sherlock had never been scared like that before." Both men looked at the broken man,"I heard the phone drop and Sherlock had been taken. A day later I received a phone call from his captors. Except I didn't know that. It was Sherlock and I listened to them beat him. Up to the point of which he was screaming."
Mycroft looked at Sherlock. He looked as if he was about to cry. It was just John, Sherlock, Mycroft and Lestrade. John never left his side the entire time.
John had never been so happy to see someone before.
The story was released the very day.
"Fake genius discovered to be alive! After falling to his death two years ago, Sherlock Holmes was found tortured and left in the sea to drown until emergency services retrieved him. He is now recovering in say he is critical but stable and should be returning to his cases soon."
He did return to his cases and everything returned to normal.
Thanks for reading! :D
Please write a review with ideas for another fan fiction I could write. (Btw I don't like writing kissy lovey-dovey stories. :P