Just a little warning to all readers. There will be torture and mention of torture throughout this fic. I just wanted to try something new so bear with me. I have a good idea of where I may be going with this so it should be updated weekly unless something pops up. It may be a little confusing, but I'm working on fixing that. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 1

The doctor sat in the bus as he made his way to his new job. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he needed the money after being shot in the shoulder and leaving the military. Now he was on the road to who knows where. His sister had offered to let him stay with her, but he refused. He wouldn't be able to take it. She was a drunk and being a doctor would just ruin their relationship. He doesn't have anyone else in this world so why would he risk losing the one person who actually cared about him? It would be a stupid mistake to do so.

"Last stop," the bus driver called to him. The old doctor looked up from the frost covered window, staring at the now empty bus. Slowly shuffling to his feet and grabbing his cane, he hobbled out into the cool London air. He trotted down the cobblestone path to where he came to a large building with ivy plants crawling up the red bricks. He looked at an old faded sign on the building.

Brook's Mental Asylum

The doctor shivered at the idea of working with people who no longer had any idea of the real world. It made his heart break to see such turmoil and pain, but he needed the money. He knew that once he got enough, though he would run away from this horrible place.

Once through the big wooden door he was left wishing that he had risked staying with his lovely sister. Patients were sobbing in every direction. Their lost eyes were sunken into their heads and white gowns were all they were given. Doctors walked left and right, not even glancing at the patients that sobbed and cried for help. He shuddered. He was a caring man. How could he be expected to just walk past people like this?

"You're the new doctor right?" A young man with freckles speckling his nose and cheeks said merrily. The ex-army doctor nodded, trying to force a smile, but he couldn't. It seemed like too depressing a place to do such a thing as smile. It just felt wrong. "I'm Henry, welcome to the nut house." The old Doctor forced a chuckle and looked around.

"So, where do I start?" he asked. Henry's smile fell slightly.

"Well, that's some bad news," Henry started, "one of our doctors quit after being assigned to a specific patient. It sounds like you're the one who'll get to watch over him now," Henry stated, shaking his head in pity. "He's the worst we've got here."

"Where is he?" the doctor asked, fear bubbling up inside him. He didn't want to be here and he definitely didn't want to have to be the doctor of the worst patient they've ever had in the asylum. Henry led him up three flights of stairs, stepping over patients that rolled against the floor, muttering nonsense.

"LET ME GO!" a man shouted from a room to the doctor's left. The man had greying hair and wild eyes.

"Calm down, Gregory," a female doctor called, holding the man down as a nurse injected a clear substance into the man's arm.

"That's Mr. Lestrade, poor man keeps acting like he's the bloody police," Henry stated, noticing the doctor staring at the poor man, who now lied motionless on the floor. "Come on, you're madman is waiting." The doctor took one more glance at the man called Gregory, who lied flat on the tiled flooring. He couldn't help to wonder if he had seen him before. The madman looked so familiar. He brushed it off, guessing it was just a coincidence and fallowed Henry down to the slowly darkening hallway. He came to a door that was made of iron and had at least thirty different locks on it along with dents coming from within the inside. So far it wasn't looking good for the doctor. Henry pulled out a large key that looked like it hadn't been used in years. If they didn't bother change this key in for an electric lock then they really must not want to be anywhere nears this man. The old army doctor swallowed hard as the door creaked open, revealing a poorly lit room. The room was completely empty except for an unused bed. The bed was completely untouched, like it hasn't been used in years. There was one small window that let in a few rays of lovely sunshine and by this window was a chair. The chair wasn't what made the doctor's skin crawl though. It was the man in the chair. The man was tall, pail, and way too thin. His dark curly hair was sticking up all over from a hand running through it so many times. The new doctor walked into the room, noticing how Henry refused to come any farther into the room. The doctor couldn't help but wonder why the other doctor had left. The madman who was staring at out the tiny window turned his gaze to the doctor. A gasp left the doctors mouth. The man's eyes were a steely blue that froze you where you stood. They were bright and amazing, but there was something missing from them. Emotion was nowhere to be seen in them. They were blanker than a plain piece of paper. The eyes studied over him and then looked back into his.

"You're my new doctor," the man stated. The doctor nodded, giving out his hand to the madman. He ignored Henry, who was flinching in the corner. Maybe if doctors were a tad kinder to their patients here they wouldn't have problems. The madman stared at the hand for a while and then took it. "My name's John Watson," the doctor stated, letting a smile fall over his face. The madman's eyes widened for a second in what may have been relief or joy and then took control again, forcing the emotions away.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes," the madman stated, shaking John's hand in his.