Warnings: This story deals with small bits and the aftermath of torture. I do not go into too much detail about it but it's still very much there.
Sorry I do not own any of Sherlock…Yeah, I'm sure you are real heartbroken over that fact…
Interesting Note: Now, this story has Moriarty's brother in it…In the original stories we know only a few things about him, because of one sentence in 'The Final Problem'…His name is Colonel James Moriarty…So one, he's a military man, two, his parents are lazy sods who give their children the first same name and third, he defends the memory of his brother with a passion…so he loves his dear brother and would not take his brother's death kindly…Perhaps he'd even blame Sherlock and focus all his vengeance onto him…So, anyway, in this story I will not be calling him James…Sorry, no, I will be calling him Moriarty's brother many times because I find it amusing and plan to make some jokes in later parts about it…I have made him an older brother…For many love comparing Sherlock and Moriarty (the one we know and love) I thought it would be interesting to make him an older brother who has lived in his younger brother's shadow…So, if in future parts I simply call this madman Moriarty, seeing that it is his last name…Please don't be too confused…For I'm quite certain I'm confused enough for the both of us.
~*~And So Beats A Gentle Heart~*~
~*~PART 1~*~
'Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness with surrounds me?'
-The Speckled Band by Arthur Conan Doyle
'What is the meaning of it, Watson?' Said Holmes solemnly as he laid down the paper. 'What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable'…
~The Cardboard Box by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
~*~SHERLOCK~*~
"So, all the king's men and all the king's horses couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again! And worse yet, they completely contaminated the crime scene!"
Sherlock blinked at Molly's words as she slowly smiled before she continued, her dark eyes seemed to be sparkling with some great mischievous delight that he would perhaps never quite understand. "I fear he may have been violently pushed. This has all the tell signs of a hate crime, quite possibly done by a heavy handed vegan."
"Vegans simply don't eat eggs or milk products, they don't necessarily hate them…Actually, I doubt there was any hate involved…Really, Molly, why would they simply murder an egg, especially the legendary Humpty Dumpty? Highly doubtful that they would be his murderer…" Sherlock found himself arguing…
"Is murder ever simple?" Molly asked seriously, yet there still seemed to be that beautiful and charming sparkle within her dark eyes.
"Yes." Sherlock stated without any hesitation. It was as if he knew this to be a hardcore fact that really shouldn't be argued with.
"Well, what if Humpty Dumpty was really a bad, rotten egg? I mean, seriously, what do we know about his moral character?" Then surprisingly Molly's next set of questions turned serious… "What if he had deadly information that could seriously hurt the ones you care about? What if the only way you could protect John and all that he holds dear was to shot the rotten egg right in the head?"
This time there was no sparkle in her eyes. Instead there was simply a quiet lovely acceptance in her kind eyes, as if they both knew the answer before them and she wasn't bothered by what he had done. None of it…
Sherlock swallowed hard feeling a bit awkward and he looked quickly away from her to the body upon her metal slab.
"Let's talk about something else, yes? Like this body!" Sherlock ordered almost desperately in hopes to change the subject. "He was quite savagely strangled, yes?"
"Oh, goodness, no!" Molly exclaimed in complete surprise as she looked down at the body in question before stating calmly as if Sherlock should have realized the truth right away. "You know he's not dead, he's simply resting."
The fully clothed body on the slab sighed deeply before saying in a very familiar voice, "When are you going to stop all this non-sense, brother mine?"
Sherlock completely ignored his brother, Mycroft.
"No, Molly, I'm pretty certain that he's dead! Very dead, in fact! Let us see who is right by doing a pleasant little autopsy, hmm?" Sherlock said all this was pleasantly and sweetly, all the while looking at his pathologist quite innocently. "I'll even be thrilled to help!"
Mycroft slowly sat up with a heavy frown upon his face; his hard cold eyes confirmed that he was in no way finding any of this amusing.
"Really, Sherlock, you must stop being so bloody stupid!" Mycroft shot at him with every ounce of coldness that was within him to do so, yet oddly something…perhaps concern flickered briefly within his eyes. "Enough of this! You need to leave this mind palace of yours and escape!"
Sherlock froze before replying back coldly, "And just how am I to do that, oh Smart One? Hmm, tell me! I am…I am strapped to a sodding table and I have been badly beaten and…and…"
"Tortured." Molly stated carefully and softly. There was now a deep sadness about her. "The bastard who kidnapped you…tortured you and now he is even slowly sadistically draining you of blood. "
"You really must stop making excuses and find a way to escape." Mycroft said mildly as if asking how Sherlock's day was going and not really giving a damn.
Sherlock inhaled deeply and in an attempt not to thrash and dismember his older brother…Though really if one thought about it, what did it matter? This was his mind palace after all…
"Go away, Mycroft, I'm dying and I'd like to spend what little time I have left here with Molly…"
"Right." Mycroft replied as he glanced over at Sherlock's petite and cute pathologist before asking scornfully, "Is that the only reason I'm here experiencing your creepy version of…porn?"
Sherlock blinked in complete confusion before he quickly denied. "Porn? What porn? I never keep porn here in my mind palace!"
"I will have you know that is a lie! I am stuck in this rubbish of a mind palace of yours and I have seen Irene Adler walking around here…naked! Naked, Sherlock, naked!"
"Well…That's how I met her, Mycroft!" Sherlock felt he needed to explain quickly, before his brother ran off and told mind palace Mummy or something…"I swear there is nothing sexual about it…and…and…I really haven't seen her around here for a while now…I believe I just might have deleted her."
"No, trust me brother, you have not deleted her. In fact, I spent a lovely afternoon with the lady in question…Mostly, while you were being violently tortured…There is only so much one can do here when you are away…and sadly, I get lonely so it's nice when I have her over to visit me…"
Eww…Perhaps he really should delete 'the woman'…Seriously…His brother and her…Eww…
"Well, Mycroft, she's not here now so your idea that what is going on is my version of porn is stupid!"
Mycroft studied him as if he was a complete idiot before he declared, "You have Dr. Hooper standing here in her morgue wearing only her lap coat with one lonely button that is about to pop open at any second because of a very weak thread!"
Sherlock looked at the button in question…That perfect round button didn't look lonely at all, in fact it was probably quite happy! As soon as his annoying damn brother left that lovely button was going to leap off with great joy!
"Go. Away. Now." Sherlock coldly and pointedly said.
"Well, just look at the poor girl!" Mycroft replied instead of leaving. He moved towards Molly with slow elegance all the while slipping off his expensive dark business jacket. "Your pathologist is standing here freezing simply because you think you are dying! What rubbish! Look how pointy her nibbles are, it's almost as if she'd smuggling two small round sweeties…Poor, dear! Seriously, you should be thinking of ways to escape instead of treating her like some sex object! You are many things, brother mine, and one of those things I had been quite certain of was that you were a gentleman! How wrong I was, Mummy would be ever so ashamed of you right now!"
"Oh, piss off!" Sherlock snarled and his hands tightened into fists as he watched his brother carefully place his jacket upon his Molly's shoulders. He didn't know why but the thought of anything of his brother's on her made him quite angry. With swift steps he was suddenly next to them…Roughly jerking off Mycroft's jacket, Sherlock tossed it at him.
He quickly took off his beloved Belstaff and helped Molly into it. He even fastened it closed as he stepped back to study her…He couldn't help but think that Molly looked a thousand times better in it than 'the woman' ever had…
Molly flushed beautifully for him. Looking so very real…
"There…Much better." Sherlock whispered softly. His hands coming to fall gently upon her shoulders.
Molly gifted him a small smile, a loving, kind sparkle was shining in her brown eyes.
"You are not going to get off on her while I'm standing right here, are you?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock slowly let go of Molly…
"Mycroft, seriously, I'm about to kill you." Sherlock retorted with a slight edge to his voice.
"You can't even delete me." Mycroft taunted cruelly. "How many times over the years have you tried?"
"Just go away, damn you! Don't you understand, I'm dying! I will soon be dead and all I want…All I want is to spend what little time I have left with Molly, not you!" Right after Sherlock shouted these words so angrily at his brother…Molly surprised him.
She always seemed to surprise him…
Even though this was his mind palace…A place that should be completely under his control...Molly, his pathologist, always knew how to surprise him…
For she had just slapped him brutally hard, right across his cheek…
He and his world froze as he stared at her with wide startled eyes…Molly's eyes, normally so sweet and kind were filled with intense fury. Wow, her fury was something to behold!
"You stop saying that! You are not going to die! Do you understand me? You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die. Not today and never under that twisted bastard's hands! You, Sherlock Holmes are going to live. You have friends who bloody care about you…So you are damn well going to hold on! You hear me? You will hold on! You will not hurt John…For you know he's doing everything in his power to find you and help you. You will not let him become a failure in this! You will live! For your best friend…and you will bloody live for me as well!" Molly finished the last of her words softly as she studied him…Her eyes no longer filled with such savage heat…
A long silence filled the morgue. Even his brother was silent…Simply waiting. Both he and Molly waited. For what Sherlock was uncertain of…
Then…Even more silence filled his lovely and sometimes chaotic mind palace.
"Well?" Molly finally broke the long never-ending silence that to be honest had been starting to annoy him.
"Well, what?" Sherlock asked softly, truly wondering what she was asking him.
"Tell me…That you are going to live. I want…I need…to hear you say the words to me…Please, Sherlock, say it…" Molly pleaded softly.
Sherlock took a deep breath before letting it go…
"I'm not going to die. I'm going to live." He promised, making Molly smile at him. A good, honest smile…
Her small hand came up, not to slap him, no, but to caress his still red cheek. Gently. Tenderly. The sweetness of that touch was more profound than a thousand slaps.
"Good…" She whispered, sounding as if that word was being spoken with all of her heart.
Strangely, he wanted to take her into his arms…
Her touch soothed him, meticulously repaired his damaged soul…Even if she wasn't real, the touch was real enough to bring him great comfort…It forced him to keep his promise, forced him to live.
Maybe…Just maybe…One day that touch would indeed be real. If he allowed it, of course. Did he truly want Molly's sweet, gentle touch? Something deep within himself told him that he did. Yet, he wasn't sure he'd ever allow it outside of his mind palace.
"Oh, how nice." Mycroft stated ruining Sherlock's tender moment with his Molly. Sherlock quickly shot him a hardened look of anger.
Mycroft responded with a thin tight lipped smile before continuing with some bite in his voice. "You are now going to live. Good for you, Sherlock! Now we will all continue to live in this crap of a stupid mind palace of yours. You have no idea how happy you have made me, brother mine…No idea!"
"Seriously, go away." Sherlock told his brother once more.
"No…You go away." Mycroft responded right back. "It's time to leave. Go back to the real world, Sherlock and when you do…You tell Moriarty's older twisted arse of a brother to piss off and while you deal with all that non-sense…"
Mycroft abruptly stopped to suddenly turn towards Molly, holding out his elbow in an old-fashioned gentleman sort of way before speaking to her…His coldness seeming to be suddenly gone and he now actually made himself look kind and…well…nice…An true illusion, one that annoyed Sherlock greatly for some odd reason…Especially, around his pathologist…
"Dr. Hooper, would you please do me the great honor of coming over to my mind palace?" Mycroft asked ever so pleasantly and politely…A true gentleman…It made Sherlock hate him even more…Especially, when he continued with… "It's so much better and bigger! Much like with all things I have when compared to my brother's…"
A dark, deep sound ripped itself from Sherlock's throat as he lunged for his brother's pale neck and just as his fingertips touched it…
He found himself out of his mind palace and back into true hellish torment…
Reality was simply a sea of pain…Yet worse than the pain was the feeling of helplessness.
The man before him wanted him to die slowly and painfully…Unlike the man's younger and Sherlock was certain more brilliant brother who had died quite quick as well as by his own hand.
James Moriarty had actually welcomed death.
However, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't welcome it at all. He refused to accept death for he had promised…
"Tell me…" A dark voice taunted menacingly. "Are you ready to die, Sherlock?"
With Sherlock's one good eye, for his other one was badly swollen shut, never once left the other man's face…He slowly spat out a mixture of his own blood and saliva and hoped like hell that some of it landed on the bastard.
"No." Sherlock answered coldly before he continued he couldn't seem to remove the raw physical pain he was in from his voice, "And, by the way, I honestly can't believe that you would choose now to have a conversation…For really…I must say I'm so not in the mood…"
In the distance Sherlock thought he heard something…Something that gave him hope…Suddenly that gave him strength…He thought he heard John…and…Someone else equally important to him…He felt like a predator who was about to escape his cage and maim his tormentor…At that thought Sherlock gave the man a maddening smile…Before Sherlock decided to reply…
"But then what the hell! Let's have a conversation! How about you tell me, Humpty Dumpty, do you think your brother's former people or even your own will be able to put you back together again?"
~*~End of Part 1~*~
I borrowed something from the lovely movie 'Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon' some of you perhaps recognized it right away…Yes, this movie had Basil Rathbone playing Sherlock Holmes in that movie and Moriarty strapped him down onto a table and took blood from him…So he could experience what it was like to 'die by the needle'…It had been Sherlock's idea so Watson and the others would have enough time to rescue him…As I was watching this movie for the hundredth or more times the idea for this Sherlock and Molly story came about and I was compelled to put it into my story…