Day 5

"Look at me!" he yelled. I continued to look away, which was hard, considering his steel blue eyes that bore my sole, his perfect-cut features, his smooth voice. I could smell his cologne, feel his breath, my heart pounding.

"No," I said barely above a whisper. His anger melted, and he stood up again.

"Very well, if that's how you're going to be, John," he answered. Without another word, he left the cage, leaving me chained to the chair. The stone basement was cold under my bare feet, and the whole atmosphere of the place chilled me.

I heard his steps retreating up the steps until I faded into sleep.

Day 4

Jim grabbed me by the hair, which had, for the most part, had been pulled out already, and dragged me to the cold basement of the bombed church. There was a steel chair with handcuffs on both sides waiting for me.

"Charming, Jim," I muttered. He yanked my hair again, pulling another handful out and letting it fall to the floor.

"Careful what you say, John," he said in a sing-song voice. "I might just… eat you up." He laughed. His laughter was smooth, almost flirtatious. I saw the last few steps just before being pushed. I fell flat on my face, and felt a trickle of blood come from my nose. My lip swelled up, as I tried to breath after getting the wind knocked out of me. My chest ached for Sherlock, and I wondered if he was okay. I couldn't count the number of days it'd been since I'd last saw him. Shit, here I was worrying again.

"John-"

"No, Sherlock, you get yourself into way too much trouble all the time! You are sitting here for an hour before you go wandering off again, getting high, or solving a case-"

"John." He took me by the shoulders. "Stop worrying. Never worry."

And here I was. Disobeying. I felt like a child, but I liked it. It made me feel safe.

"Sit." Jim told me. I obeyed. I felt the cold metal cut into my wrists and I winced. When I did, I felt Jim give me a small kiss on the cheek. I froze, not knowing what to think. Shouldn't I be used to this by now? He kissed me at least once a day. I had to admit, he wasn't as rough as Sherlock, but that was because he didn't love me as much. Right?

Not knowing what to do, I kept my eyes locked on the wall ahead of me, breathing as slowly as I could.

"Don't think I won't be back," Jim said, leaving the room. All the way up the steps, I heard him chuckling.

Day 3

I woke up in the back of the car, where we left off last night. It was all a daze, the kissing, the biting, the raping. I still hurt. I gathered whatever clothing I had left, and dressed. Jim was nowhere in sight, so I left the car and began walking. We had parked in some remote place, where the grassy cliff drops off to the sea, kinda like Jim's love, or was lust a better word? He'd tell me that he loved me, after what happened with Sherlock. Then, well, I guess the past is the past. I needed to look forward to new possibilities.

"John!" Jim called from behind me a ways. "Good morning!" He was approaching the car as though he'd just come back from a walk.

"Yeah, thought I'd wake up." I thought long about what I'd say next. "Uh, about last night-"

"Did, did I hurt you, love?" He acted so concerned.

"No, just… well, you know I've been a bit touchy since-"

"Right," Jim said, nodding. "I'm sorry." He slowly touched the side of my face. "You love me, right?" He said, his brows furrowed.

I didn't know what to say. He was there every time Sherlock wasn't. He cheered me up when Sherlock left the flat in a rage. Did I love him?

After a moment of silence, Jim turned away. I didn't answer him. I didn't want to.

"Very well, John. You don't have to love me-"

"No, Jim, it's not like that-"
"Yes, John, it is. Don't worry about it, love, uh, I mean, John. Sorry." He got in the car and started the engine. Reluctantly, I got in the car and the silent drive began.

"Where are we going Jim?" No answer. "Jim ,can you please tell me where -"
"Just shut up, John!" Jim yelled.

"Look, I'm sorry that I disappointed you, honestly, but you don't need to react like a…" I didn't finish my sentence. I'd done enough already.

"Like a what, John?"

"No, no, don't… I don't wanna cause more trouble." I looked out the window, wondering how Sherlock was doing. I pushed the thought away. He left, and if he was in trouble, he'd call me right?

Day 2

We drove for some time, deeper into… nowhere. All I knew was Jim seemed like he knew where he was going. I could see the ocean on my side of the window. It was so calm. How could I be so raging mad when the largest body of water was so calm?

"Don't worry," it seemed to say in Sherlock's voice. A warm feeling ran through my body.

"Don't worry," Jim said, placing a hand on my leg. He looked at me with those damned gentle brown eyes. I shivered. A guttural feeling turned into panic. I knew what that panicky feeling meant: I had to get away. This wasn't me going along with him, this was a kidnapping. I quietly unbuckled my seat belt.

"What? Where are you going?!" cried Jim, slightly swerving as he turned to look at me.

"No!" I said. "Shut. Up. You persuaded me to go with you, then you won't tell me where-."

"Church!" he yelled. His eyes were no longer gentle. They were controlling.

Day 1

The city was killing me. The endless noise, the traffic, the ever-blinding lights. All of it. Sherlock sat on the couch, on my laptop, again.

Are you ever off that blasted thing?" I asked him.

"You ask as I read your latest blog," Sherlock responded. "How do you ever have time to type all this? Three web pages long! Why?" He looked at me. "How?"

I chuckled as I sat next to him.

"I'm, ah, talented?"

"Yes, you are," She lock said, placing an arm around me.

"So, what's on the great detective's mind, now?" I asked.

"I'm so… sorry," he said, a sad look forming in this blue eyes.

"Why? For what? I'll always forgive you, you know."

"And I'll always love you."

"And you're sorry for that? I don't quite understand..."

"I don't know how to put it…"

"Sherlock, what's going on?" I said, sitting up and looking him int the eyes. Something about those eyes told me that this was serious.

"Look, I've never been perfect," he said, standing up.

"So? We're all human."

"I- had, uh, look, John, I had a… person… approach me-"

"Sherlock! What. Has. Happened?"

"A woman, John! She was tall, blonde, with brown eyes, very sensual… and, well…."

"You had sex?"

Shelock looked at the ground, nodding.

"Anything else?"

"I'm a father."

"How long?" I whispered, my face in my hands.

"Two months, now."

I felt like crying. Just moments ago, everything had been so perfect… and now, nothing was. I stood up, furious. Sherlock backed away, seeing my anger. My fists balled and before moments passed, a bruise was forming over Sherlock's left eye.

"Why?!" I yelled, landing one on his cheekbone. I swore I heard something crack.

"John, I didn't-"

"Don't lie to me! You did!"

"No, I didn't want her! She-"

"Shut up!" I screamed. Then, something snapped inside Sherlock. He swiftly grabbed my wrists and shoved me against a wall.

"No," he said barely above a whisper. "You shut up." He dragged me to his room and pushed me to the bed. I stumbled, landing on my back. Sherlock got on the bed, straddling me. He tore my shirt off before tearing at my trousers. With him no longer on my abdomen, it was easier to kick. I got away from him and quickly redressed, staring him in the eye as he lay on the floor. The next few moments were a blur. I hailed a cab, got to a greasy-arse bar, and ordered a smallish drink. After staring at the glass, contemplating weather or not to drink it, I took a small sip.

"This salted?" I asked, cringing.

"No," said the man sitting next to me. "You've been crying into it." He seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it, nor did I care to. I spilled out my story, sobbing and not caring what anyone thought. I loved Sherlock, and now…

"I'm so sorry, John," Jim Moriarty said.