A/N: This is my second Sherlock story, so please, be gentle. This is set in a nekoverse AU and will contain slash, so if you don't like then don't read. I hope you all enjoy it! R&R.

Salvation

John wasn't entirely sure what the hell he had done to make his master so angry, but he knew that he wasn't going to come out of it unscathed. Granted, Moriarty had always been mentally unstable, to say the very least, but he was still a dangerous man. Not the good kind of dangerous man, but the bad kind. The kind who wouldn't think twice about killing someone, whether it be by his own hand or by one of his underlings. And although John's misbehaved and had been punished before, this time, there's a glint in his master's eyes. One that tells John that he'll be lucky if he can even crawl by the time the punishment is over and done with.

As the madman stalks towards him, anger and perverse glee apparent on his face, John wished that he hadn't been one prone to stubbornness or rebellion. He wished that he had been a good neko from the very start of his enslavement to James Moriarty. After all, he had always been good at taking orders, but he had also always been prone to fits of rebellious streaks and the like. Of course, he wouldn't call it rebellion. John would term it along the lines of…purposeful absentmindedness that usually resulted in people believing that he was ignoring them. Yes. That sounded quite right in his book.

"Aw…our little kitten is feeling rowdy today. Aren't you, kitten?"

Moriarty crouched down and looked at him, his eyes piercing through every fiber of his being. Only Moriarty had that effect on him, but John tried his best to never let it show. Doing so would only bring more intrigue from the deranged man and that was something that John most definitely did not want.

"Why won't you speak, kitten? Is it because mean old Sebastian was roughing you up?"

John looked down and did his best to appear submissive. As a neko, he had been forced to submit and obey his whole life. Even though he didn't like it, it kept him alive. Granted, being alive wasn't much of a benefit in his opinion. If he had to choose, he'd pick dying over belonging to a man like Jim Moriarty any day.

"You know that you deserved it, kitten. Nekos who don't obey get hurt. You know that."

The condescending manner in which Moriarty spoke to John made the neko's ears flatten against his head and it made his tail swish back and forth in agitation. More than anything, it was that tone of voice that made agitated him. And, of course, Moriarty knew this just like he knew everything about, well, everything.

"You're going to have to be punished, kitten. However, I think you'll...enjoy this punishment."

John never enjoyed the punishments. Actually, the only thing he ever enjoyed was being beat within an inch of his life. Then, and only then, was he ever on the brink of death, so close that he could practically taste it and that was something that he truly desired. Death was the only thing that would allow him escape from Moriarty. At least, that was how it seemed.

John had been owned by Moriarty since he had been a young kit. He really didn't remember his youth and he didn't know whether or not if that was because he couldn't or just didn't want to. All he knew was that, even after years of being with the insane genius, he was still unpredictable. His moods, his actions, even the things he said, they were so unpredictable. The only constants John had ever had were his punishments. There were some that Moriarty enjoyed greatly, and then there were some that were only tried out once before being discarded. No matter. They were all the same to John; their only purpose was to make him suffer and to bring his master joy and happiness at the sight.

Of course, some of his punishments had been sexual in nature. John had long lost his virginity and he knew that he'd never, ever give into Moriarty, no matter what the Irishman did or said. His mood swings made any experience in the bedroom horrible for John. Every slap or caress all stung the same in John's mind. However, the gentility was worse than the abuse because John knew that Moriarty did it with a mocking intent, which was obvious by his smirk and his laughter when he did it. John always felt so disgusted with himself, even though there really wasn't anything he could do to stop any of it. If he struggled, he'd be punished worse. If he didn't make a sound or move, he'd be punished. If he enjoyed it, he'd be disgusting. There was no safe haven for him.

Moriarty grabbed him by his already too tight collar and dragged him up the stairwell of the mansion. They had been to various places, but they always returned to the mansion. It was a place that John never identified as home and he had never felt comfortable within its walls. His master knew this and used it to his advantage every day.

When they arrived at Moriarty's room, John was shoved inside hard enough that he tripped over his own two feet and fell. His tail curled around his leg and his ears flattened even more, if possible. Moriarty stepped inside, closed the door and locked it before turning to face John. A smirk slowly made its way onto his face and John couldn't help but cringe. This wasn't going to go well at all. He knew that from experience. James Moriarty may look every bit as handsome and dashing in his finely tailored suits, but he was a monster.

"Why do you look so frightened, kitten? You can't be scared of little old Jim Moriarty, can you?"

Moriarty circled him like a predatory would circle its prey. John's tail uncurled itself from around his leg and it began to undulate in an agitated manner. Before he could even blink, a hand had reached out and grabbed his tail in a vise like grip. Without meaning to, John hissed and turned around, pain and anger obvious in his expression. However, he didn't do anything. He couldn't. Moriarty was grinning wickedly at him and John knew that this punishment wasn't going to bode well for him.

"Don't like your tail being pulled, do you? I can't help myself, Johnny boy. Your fur is just so soft. Besides, your tail was annoying me. I already know that you're angry; no need to have your tail speak for you." With a glee filled smirk and a dangerous glint in his eyes, Moriarty pulled John to him by his tail. Pain stemmed up from his tail to the base of his spine and then all over. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to bring tears to John's eyes.

"Oh, you are most definitely going to enjoy what I'm about to do to you."

A maniacal giggle escape Moriarty as he forced John onto the bed. Rope was tied around the neko's hands and the headboard, making it impossible for any hope of escape. Once John was secured, Moriarty stood up and admired the sight. John's blue eyes, full of fear and dread, couldn't remove themselves from his master. While the sight was terrifying, John knew that taking his eyes off of the man could prove fatal. Perhaps that was why he felt a sudden spark of relief. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this will be the end of him.

Unfortunately, he had been dreadfully wrong.

…

Two weeks had passed after John's last punishment and his wounds were still healing. Some of the milder bruises had already faded while the worst were only just beginning to dissipate. There were wounds that had only just begun to scab over while others were mere scratches and cuts that healed quick enough. But John still couldn't walk properly. His lower back and arse had been beaten badly enough that blood was still seeping from the wounds. Not only that, but the manner in which Moriarty had taken him had been anything but gentle and tender. Rough and harsh and painful, and John was still feeling it. It didn't help that Moriarty would sometimes allow his henchmen to take their frustrations out on John, but such was the life of a neko.

Currently, John was sitting beside Moriarty in the car as they drove through the city. His master had seemed a bit…off for the past few days, but John hadn't been complaining. Sure, he may have been treated as though he was invisible, but he'd rather have that than attention. Attention, when in relation to Jim Moriarty, was never a good thing. Ever.

"You know…I just…don't find you interesting anymore."

John looked up at Moriarty, who was gazing steadily out of the window. His voice was light and casual, but that didn't tell John anything. Hell, his master could have appeared happier than a bug in a rug when he was actually angry beyond all mortal comprehension. But John didn't say anything; he merely gazed at his master for a moment before bowing his head in submission.

"It's not that you're…unattractive, kitten. You're just boring."

So this was it. Moriarty had been carting John around in order to find a secluded spot and would then execute him. Why wouldn't he? He had had John for years. The neko was a liability. John may not know enough to ensure his survival on the streets, but he still. Unless his master released him or gave him away, John was bound to him, owned by him, which meant that the man mad could do whatever he wanted to him. And apparently, he had decided to kill him.

"No offense. That's just the truth of it. Sorry, kitten. I knew how much you loved being with me. I'm not going to lie; I will miss you. Just not enough, you know?" John merely nodded and they sat in silence for the rest of ride.

Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse or something. John's heart, which had been pounding in his chest, was practically visible as it beat underneath his skin and tissue. His palms were sweating and he knew that his eyes showed his fear. After wishing for death for so long, he was finally going to have it. After having been put through hell by Moriarty, the mad man was finally going to off him. It was bittersweet in a way; while John knew that he was going to die at the hands of Moriarty, he had no idea it'd be like this.

The car was parked and Moriarty stepped outside, pulling John out by his arm. Holding his arms behind his back, they proceeded to walk towards the empty building, John's heart beating so loudly that he'd be surprised if Moriarty wasn't able to hear it. They entered the building and John looked around as he was ushered further in. There were a few boxes and crates, but other than that, the building was empty save for the dust. Darkness was all around them and John couldn't help but think that it'd be a long time before someone found his body. Suddenly, they came to a stop and John glanced up at his master before looking down. Moriarty turned to him and faked a sigh before he grinned at him.

"It's fitting, isn't it? Me bringing you here. After all, I found you here and now, I'm bringing you back." Before John could reply, Moriarty pulled a gun out of his pocket. His grin turned maddening and John couldn't help but flinch. But he was ready. He had wished for this, after all. Death was better than living with a master such as Moriarty.

But no shot was fired. Confused, John began to lift his head up to see what was going on when his head was struck hard with the gun. Darkness took him over completely and then there was nothing.

…

Hands, long and bony, touched him. The touch was hesitant, almost as they the owner of the hands wasn't sure what to do, but they were warm. After a few seconds, the hesitation was replaced with firm determination and John felt him being roughly shaken. His eyes opened and he hissed softly as a throbbing pain caused him to close his eyes. Something warm and wet matted his hair to his temple and panic sparked within him.

As the hands tried to shake him awake, John tried to think. Why was he here? Hadn't Moriarty shot him? Had he fallen in a puddle of water? Was that why he felt wet? Who the bloody hell was shaking him? Why was he alive? Why did his head hurt like bloody fucking hell?

He tried opening his eyes again and the pain increased, but he refused to bow down to it. John wanted nothing more than to find the answers to his various questions and the only way to do that was to wake up and get up. Besides, he was tired of being shaking and prodded at by bony fingers. Shrugging off the hands as best he could, which didn't work whatsoever, John tried to sit up on his own. His tail curled around his leg and his ears were plastered to his head, the only indication that he felt any sort of pain.

"Really, now. Allow me to help you. You're clearly in no position to sit up by yourself and besides, you're bleeding. Stop trying to shrug me off, damn it." John's ears perked up when he heard you're bleeding coming out of the stranger's mouth. His wide, frightened eyes were suddenly alert and he managed to tear himself away from the stranger and place a few feet between them.

Looking around, John realized that he was still in the warehouse his master had brought him to. It was still dark out, but the light color on the horizon told him that the sun was beginning to rise. As his eyes scanned the building, they fell upon the stranger who had been shaking him. John's eyes took all of him in. The man was at least six foot and some inches, making him taller than John. He looked incredibly skinny, but John didn't see any signs of illness, so he was probably just lean. His hair was dark and curly and he had the most shockingly bright blue-grey eyes John had ever seen. Embarrassed by his staring, John quickly looked down and found the spot where he had been lying. There was blood there, just like the man had told him. So he was bleeding. Great.

John groaned softly and his tail swished back and forth in agitation. He hated this. Being here, alive and with this stranger, made him uncomfortable. Had Moriarty not shot him then? If he hadn't, then why? Why would he just hit him and leave him alive? John was a liability after all and it wasn't like his…master? Former master? Whatever Moriarty was to him now, it just wasn't like him to let liabilities live. Confusion clouded his mind, which was already a jumbled mess. His tail constantly showing his state of anger wasn't helping him much either.

"So…you were his then." John looked up at the man who was staring back at him with such an intense gaze that John almost cringed. Almost. But he didn't. He was getting pissed. He had no idea what was going on, where Moriarty was and this guy wasn't helping the situation at all.

"What…are you talking about?" The throbbing pain stabbed at him as he started speaking and John was reminded that he had been hit on the head. Hard.

"Moriarty and you, obviously. You were his neko. He owned you ever since you were young. Not a new born, but younger than eight. He's never allowed you to leave the grounds of his mansion until now, so that he could dump you here. He didn't kill you. No, he wouldn't kill you. Contrary to popular belief, there are a few things Moriarty cares for and you so happen to be one of them. More so because he found you at such a young age and has had you for years than anything else. So he wouldn't kill you but he would injure you enough to perhaps induce memory loss. However, he miscalculated and didn't hit you hard enough because you still have your memory. I think that sums it all up."

John just stared at him. In the very back of his mind, he was actually quite impressed that the man had known so much. It made John wonder how he did that. However, his head was pounding and he still had no idea who the damn man was, which only aggravated him even more than he already was.

"Who are you?" The man crouched down beside him and reached out to him. His fingers only vaguely brushed against John's temple, but when they did the neko flinched and hissed. It was sore and tender and still bleeding.

"My name's Sherlock Holmes and I'm going to take you home with me." The man, Sherlock, grabbed his hand and forced John to his unsteady legs. Without a moment's notice, Sherlock was pulling John along as they headed outside.

"W-why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you taking me to your home?" They left the abandoned warehouse and continued walking, heading towards whatever destination Sherlock had in mind.

"Because it'd be dull to leave you in the warehouse where Moriarty could find you again. Besides, I want to conduct an experiment and I'll be needing you for that."

John really didn't like the sound of that, but he had little choice. Sherlock wasn't going to let him go and, in all honesty, John didn't want to return to the warehouse. So, with his head bowed down, he followed after the strange man and wondered silently to himself what was going to happen to him.