Chapter 1

It hurt when the needle went in. It went through my hand, straight to the bone underneath. "Don't worry," the woman had said, "This won't hurt. What's coming next will, though, if I do not get the information that I want." She was wrong. The needle created a searing pain when it had been stabbed into my flesh, and I wanted to scream when it hit the bone. It was like pain I had never felt before. It was pain that I never wanted to feel again.

The screaming pain slowed gradually to a dull ache. The woman was talking something to Sherlock, but I hadn't been listening, for I was terrified.

"…injected into the hand of the victim, which will cause instantaneous and immense pain to flash over the victim. But, only for a second. Then, the numbness will set in. It will feel like the drug is wearing off, but no; it is only beginning. The numbness will turn to blinding pain that will start in his feet and climb. It will feel as if a colony of fire ants is crawling under his skin, spreading their venom. The only way he won't die an extremely painful death is if you tell me what I need to know. I honestly couldn't care in the slightest if Mr. Watson here dies. But I know you do."

Suddenly, everything from the last couple of hours came into focus. I remembered; we had been investigating what had happened to these two children who were thought to have been kidnapped, when Sherlock stumbled upon something. I couldn't remember what it was, though. He had immediately handed it over to Lestrade, and then said something about us needing to leave. Yes, that was it. He had told me that we needed to leave because they were going to come for us. Well apparently that didn't happen, I thought to myself.

These men had broken into the flat, and had put black hoods over our heads. Somewhere along the way, I had lost consciousness, and that was probably why I had a massive headache now. So, the woman has us, and she wants whatever Sherlock found. Great.

Sherlock was being held by two burly men in jet black suits, wearing a red insignia over their hearts. Sherlock looked distressed, but I couldn't figure out why. I wasn't in pain. The woman must have been wrong.

I looked around. We were in some kind of warehouse, with all the lights off except for some broken lamps here and there. There were lots of men in equally jet black suits, standing with their arms folded behind their backs. They were all listening intently to what the woman, their leader, presumably, was saying.

That's when the pain hit. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, reaching from the tips of my toes all the way to above my eyes. It felt as if someone had taken a hot coal and made me swallow it. No, it felt like a whole bucket of hot coals had descended into my body. It felt like insects were walking on the inside of my skin, chomping and biting and ravishing whatever they could lay the grimy little teeth on. I screamed.

Sherlock fell to the ground, a look of absolute agony on his face. He was trying not to shake, but he was quickly losing his calm composure. The woman laughed, but I didn't hear a word, for my hearing went in and out; the miserable pain was making my whole body shudder.

"Stop! I gave the information over to the police! Stop!" He tried to keep his voice even, though he was soon shouting in distress.

The woman waved her hands at the guards and said, "What does it matter? He can't do anything to help him anyways. Let him see his friend." The guards let go of Sherlock, and he immediately fell to the ground. He stood quickly, hurriedly walking over to where I was, tied to a chair. He grabbed the chair for support as tried to stay upright. He was taking deep breaths, trying to stay measured and even. His breath smelled of mint toothpaste and coffee, although why I was taking the time to notice that when my body was ravaged with pain was another mystery in itself. His presence comforted me, though. Where was Mary? I jerked, which sent a wave of pain through my body. Thoughts flashed through my pounding head, trying to figure out where she was. I frantically turned my head back and forth, even though it felt like icy daggers with each turn. Then I saw her, collapsed on the floor as another, different guard restrained her. She looked at me, anguished agony hiding behind a mask of braveness. She was staying strong for me.

"I," I coughed, turning with difficulty back towards the woman who was in charge. "I, we, don't, don't have the in, information-n you are aasking for. It was handed over to th, the pol-i-ce hoours ago. We do-nnot haave it." My voice staggered through what I had wanted to say, and my throat seared with pain; another suppressed wail of agony lifted from my throat. The woman laughed, and stepped forward. She bent down, and whispered, rather loudly, in Sherlock's ear.

"I don't care where the information is. And I don't care whether your friend lives to see tomorrow's sunrise or not. If you do not give me what I want," she cocked her head, "everyone you love will die, starting with Mr. Watson here."

She stood back up and spoke louder so everyone could hear her. "So come on, Sherl, dear, and just give me the information, because I hate to see you suffer." The guards laughed, like it was some kind of joke. I hurt so much that even my brain felt like it was being sawed in half, and I couldn't help but let out another stifled groan of anguish. I did not know how much more of this I could take.

Sherlock stood frozen in front of me. I tried to turn my head to look back at Mary, but instead succeeded at sending waves of pain shooting through my body, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted the ones that I loved to be beside me.

Mary came running into view, sobbing and calling my name. "J-John? J-John? Please. Stay with me. With us. You can't leave us. You are such an amazing person. Please don't leave us. We would fall apart without you." She stooped on the other side of me, hugging me and laying her head on my shoulder; it sent another anguished cry from my lips. That's when my heart broke. I thought I had known pain before. I had been in a war, for goodness sake. But there was nothing as painful as this; seeing the two people I loved most in the world fall apart around me.

"Tick-tock, Mr. Holmes. Your precious John is within minutes of leaving you forever. Make up your mind, for he does not have long." And it was true, I was already seeing spots on the corners of my vision. I felt an eerie kind of sleepiness settling over me, like if I fell asleep, I would never wake back up.

Sherlock had pure torture in his eyes; clearly torn over handing over the information or saving my life. I honestly didn't care anymore; I just wanted the pain to end. A single tear threatened to fall over the brim of his eye, but he quickly brushed it away and stood. He turned and looked directly at the woman, clearing his throat to speak.

"Never," he said. And then I lost feeling in my legs.

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