Darkness surrounded him. Not a thing could be seen in the musky room. It was hard to breath with his head covered in a burlap sack. His shoulder shook uncontrollably as he heard faint footsteps. He could have sworn they were in the room with him, but he was proven wrong when he heard the door screech open; the sound of the metal grinding metal was agonizing. The door was shut with an equally painful screech as the man watched him from across the room.
"Are you awake?" The voice asked. It was deep, yet smooth like that of a stereotypical gentleman's would. He had a slightly southern slur, but it wasn't heavy enough for the bound man to pin where he was from exactly.
He flinched slightly as the unknown man addressed him. He would have torn away the sack covering his head and made a run for it, but his hands were bound behind his back; however, this didn't stop him from pulling at his restraints.
"I'll take that as a yes." The man breathed out, approaching his hostage slowly, and with great care, he removed the sack from the mans head, "Are you ready to talk?" He asked with a smirk that was completely lost on the man seated uncomfortably before him, his eyes slowly adjusting to the new found light. A heavy glare fell upon the hostage as he avoided any eye contact.
"Look at me you dumb brat!" The captor spat, lashing out to grip the collar of his captive's shirt before it dawned on him, "Oh, I get it." He chuckled menacingly, "It makes me wonder if it was quick and painless, or slow and painful." He sneered, "It must have hurt being crushed like that." He stated in a cocky manner with a slight cackle as the man before him made a feeble attempt at lashing out at him. He was more effective in causing himself pain, and toppling his chair over.
"Who the HELL do you think you are!?" the man screamed, "You're not going to get away with this, I…" he stopped mid sentence as memories of watching that building come down with him inside.
"I don't even think he could survive that!" the man continued to cackle, "I don't even think that the 'magnificent' Sherlock Holmes is that indestructible." He laughed causing his captive to make yet another pitiful attempt at lashing out again, "Don't hurt yourself princess." He sighed, grabbing the mans' collar to hoist him back up, "I don't want you taking all the fun away from me." He smirked deviously, "Now, start talking John." He ordered cracking his knuckles.
********
A plume of smoke could be seen from the roof tops, but from the ground there was much more going on. People scattered in fear that more buildings would come down around the rubble of the previously standing boxing ring. Towns' people panicked as they attempted to figure out whether anyone was in the building or not when it came down. They had seen four men leaving the building before it came down, then continued on there way with a rather resistant, crying, man in their possession.
'Jesus Christ, what the hell did they hit me with, a building…?' the thoughts ran through his head as he gained consciousness. The Irony didn't elude him as he felt the bricks and planks of wood scrape against his body whilst he tried to free himself. He groaned, and pulled himself out from the rubble. Cries of pain escaped his lips as his legs finally broke free. The air was thick with dust, and worried people rushed over to him in fear that he was hurt. Well duh, he was hurt, but that wasn't the worst of his worries… 'That was a little too close for my liking…' he panicked, wide eyes darting everywhere.
"Sir, are you alright!?" a man asked a little louder than Holmes would have liked.
"First off, let's not scream at me…" He murmured, body shaking uncontrollably, "Second, where did they take him?" He asked with a quirked brow that still managed to fuse together with the other in a glare, "Where did they take John?" He demanded that the man tell him, and it was an unspoken promise that he would take unreasonable measures to find him.
********
"Comfy?" The Tall, shaggy haired man asked with a smirk as he returned to the room. He had taken a coffee break after John had passed out from absolute sorrow of losing his best friend… His Partner…
"Hey!" The man snarled, "Do you think you're being funny?" he asked the obviously awake man, "I get it… You're mourning your loss…" He sighed, walking over to John slowly. He would up on the floor, no longer strapped to the chair but lying on his side, still bound and his mouth was now duct taped shut, "It doesn't matter. Not anymore." He muttered, hoisting him up into an awkward seated position, the front of his shirt held tight in his captors' hands as leverage, "Now, you have some answers I need." He stated, clenching his fist as he removed the tape with his free hand.
"Why should I tell you?" John asked softly, "What can you possible do to make me tell you?" He muttered, eyes drifting to the floor beside him.
"If you don't tell me, you're dead!" He spat.
"Do you think that bothers me?"
"I'm not joking around!"
"Go ahead then…" John paused, eyes drifting back up to the enraged man, "Kill me…" He murmured with less expression than even he thought he could manage.
Without hesitation, the man drew back a fist only to bring it down on the bridge of Johns nose. It didn't take a doctor to know that he had broken it. The disgusting crunch had been enough to make the man cringe, though it didn't stop a sadistic grin from spreading across his features. A few extra blows came from his fists and feet before he left John to lie there coughing, panting, and bleeding.
"Ready to talk?" He pulled John up by his hair, forcing him to look at him.
"Go to hell…"
"I'll kill you!" The mans voice thick with malice.
"Then do it!" John yelled back, blood flowing steadily from his nose, mouth, and a gash on his forehead.
********
'What made me think that the vents were a good idea?' Holmes thought to himself as he crawled along through the latter. There was little space to move, and he certainly wasn't growing anymore confident in himself as to finding the whereabouts of John. Voices could be heard ahead, so he hurried along as silently as he could. This position wasn't exactly helping the fact that he was probably going to need stitches, and he didn't doubt himself having broken ribs. A light could be seen ahead as he came across what seemed to be a holding room. Those sounds were all too familiar… Those brutal crunching noises…
'Is it John?' Holmes was hopeful, but at the same time he prayed it wasn't.
"I'll kill you!"
"Then do it!"
Holmes' heart began to race, and his eyes grew wide as diner plates. 'John…' He couldn't get to him fast enough. It was all he could do to get John out of there at this point.
With a creak, the grill to the air vent gave way, and he came falling into the room with a surprising amount of grace, considering his current condition. Rising to his feet, his breathing quickened, his pulse raced, and his fists clenched.
"Kill him…" Holmes muttered, "And I will kill you." He snarled, eyes challenging the man who still had his hands gripping at Johns' hair.
'It can't be…' John's eyes grew double in size at the sound of that voice, 'Holmes…'
"You're supposed to be dead!" John's captor shrieked.
"Do I look dead to you?" Holmes smirked.
"Holmes…" John muttered in disbelief as he lifted his head to finally let his gaze fall upon the man before his eyes clenched shut, he ground his teeth together, biting back a sob.
"Well, doesn't matter." The man scoffed, "You can't do anything while I have your little friend." He chuckled under his breath.
"You think so?" Holmes smirked, cracking his knuckles, "I think otherwise seeing as it won't take much for me to take you out." He stated simply.
"A little cocky for someone with the short end of the stick don't you think?" The man asked with a growing smirk.
"I don't need a whole lot of stick to hold on to while I beat you with the rest of it." Holmes chuckled.
"You're all talk for someone who seems to be the search and rescue for John here." He chuckled, stroking John's hair lightly.
"You shouldn't do that…" Holmes muttered under his breath.
"You have a problem with this?" He stroked John's cheek this time, and caused john to flinch in the process.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, and in one swift movement he let his fist connect with the mans' stomach. Rearing back, he kicked the man in the stomach repetitively until he stopped grunting and flinching. Turning to John, he noted that John was just sitting there shaking.
"John?" Holmes shook him lightly, "John, say something, please!" Holmes begged. He didn't know what hit him. Well, he knew what hit him, he just didn't see it coming.
"Wh-Whoa… John?!"
"Y-You… Jerk!" John shouted, sitting on Holmess stomach, "You complete JERK!" He cried, shaking the man by the collar of his shirt before collapsing against his chest sobbing, "I th-though you were… D-Dea-" He stuttered as Holmes wrapped his arms around his shoulders.
"Shh, I know John. I know." Holmes grinned, kissing the top of his head.
"No, you don't know!" John shouted, "I couldn't live w-without you" He shook violently as he sat up, Holmes propping himself on his elbows, "J…Just there, I wouldn't have c-cared if he k-" He was cut off by a rather upset looking Holmes.
"Don't!" was all he said as he pushed himself up off the floor towards John. Pressing his lips against the mans, he slowly reached for his arms to hold him there. John attempted to retaliate, but Holmes wasn't letting him go anywhere. John would push, but Holmes wouldn't budge. Before long, John's arms were around his neck, and he was kissing Holmes fervently.
"John, I don't want you thinking those things, and I never want you saying them." He stated with a shaky breath as he held the man close.
Nodding against Holmess shoulder, John gripped the back of his shirt tight in his hands.
"Uhm… I didn't hurt you when I- Cause I was angry and- Are you ok?" He asked quietly.
"It's alright."
"Holmes?"
"Yes John?"
"Don't Die on me again…"