Watson was thrown to the ground at Moriarty's feet. He, too, had his hands tied behind his back, but his ankles were also bound and he was gagged. Watson struggled to his knees in an attempt to retain some form of dignity, but as their eyes met, Holmes could see his loyal companion was terrified.

"What is it they say?" Moriarty said, grinning. "Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain."

He grabbed Watson by the collar and tore his shirt from his back.

"Such a remarkable physique," he remarked, surveying the doctor's muscular frame. "What a shame..." Moriarty pulled a little knife from his pocket.

Holmes was now positively clawing at the ropes tying his wrists, but still tried to keep a straight face when addressing Moriarty.

"Do what you like to Watson," Holmes said, in a would-be-casual voice, "I can't say I would be terribly bothered." But as hard as he tried, Holmes couldn't keep the frightened tremble from his voice.

"Liar, liar," Moriarty chided. "I think this is a fantastic way to torment you Holmes. What better way to make you suffer than to make you watch your little friend die in agony."

With a little flick of his wrist, he drew his knife across Watson's ribs, leaving a long trail of blood behind him.

Even though he was gagged, Watson's scream echoed around the warehouse.

"Leave him alone!" Holmes shouted, wishing desperately to be able to reach Watson and save him.

"But it's just so terribly entertaining," Moriarty sneered. With that, he drew the knife again across Watson's chest, creating a long deep gash.

Watson's eyes rolled back and his body tensed in anguish as he screamed again, yet he remained stubbornly on his knees, refusing to fall to the ground.

"STOP IT!" Holmes screamed. "That's enough!" He was now pulling so hard at the ropes binding him that it felt like his wrists were on fire.

Moriarty simply grinned as flicked the knife again across Watson's front. His entire torso was now stained red with blood as it poured from his wounds.

Seeing Watson in such pain made Holmes feel sick. His best friend was kneeling just feet from him and he was unable to do anything to help him. Watson's grey trousers were already darkened with the blood flowing from his chest.

Moriarty stood with his eyes fixed on Holmes, clearly relishing the anguish in his eyes.

"Behold, the great Sherlock Holmes," he scoffed. "You solve incredible mysteries and escape from impossible situations on a regular basis, but look at you now. You are standing there watching your precious lap dog bleed and you aren't doing anything about it. To be honest, I'm a little disappointed in you Holmes, I expected you to at least put up a fight."

"What is this really about, James?" Holmes hissed, furiously blinking his eyes to rid them of the tears that were welling up. "Are you too much of a coward to try and kill me? Is that why you are taking it all out on Watson?"

"I could kill you in a heartbeat, Holmes. I just find this way to be much more satisfying."

"I don't believe you," Holmes spat back. "You couldn't kill me even if you tried." As he was speaking, Holmes started easing his boots off while trying to keep Moriarty distracted.

Moriarty straightened up and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He gazed at Holmes thoughtfully for a moment as he cleaned Watson's blood from the blade. He slid the knife in to his back pocket and approached Holmes. Moriarty was a little shorter than he was, but that made him no less formidable. He put a hand around Holmes' neck and thrust his head back against the metal pillar.

"Do you believe me now Holmes?" he whispered maniacally.

"No," Holmes choked out. With an almighty effort he jumped and wrapped his legs around Moriarty's waist. He pulled his enemy towards him and head-butted him in the middle of the forehead while at the same time, used his now bare toes to swipe the knife from his back pocket.

Moriarty stumbled backwards, completely disoriented. Holmes dropped the knife by his feet and sat down against the pillar. With his bound hands now at ground level, he managed to pick up the knife and start awkwardly hacking at the ropes. It was slow work and not being able to see what he was doing, he felt the knife slice his skin on more than one occasion. A few seconds later, Moriarty stopped staggering and straightened up. There was already an angry red welt on his forehead and he looked furious. He practically ran towards Holmes, who was still struggling to free himself. Moriarty drew back his foot and kicked Holmes hard in the stomach. Holmes doubled over as far as his tied wrists would allow, completely winded.

"You want me to kill you Holmes?" he bellowed. "Then you will get your wish." Holmes felt a fist collide with the side of his face and heard the cracking of his cheekbone. Before he had even properly registered the first blow, Moriarty struck him again, this time on the other side of the face. But as Moriarty drew his fist back for a third strike, several things happened in quick succession. Holmes felt a jolt as the knife finally made it through the thick rope and within seconds he was on his feet and without a second thought, plunged the knife in to Moriarty's stomach. Over his shoulder, Holmes saw Watson had collapsed on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and he couldn't resist giving the knife a good twist in to Moriarty's gut.

"I thought you said you could kill me in a heartbeat," he hissed in to Moriarty's ear before throwing him bodily on the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, Holmes ran to Watson.

"John," he shouted, shaking his friend by the shoulders. "John can you hear me? Can you walk?"

Watson gave an incoherent mumble, but didn't try to speak. He was barely able to open his eyes. Holmes quickly untied the ropes binding the doctor and pulled the gag away from his mouth.

"Come on, old chap," he said, trying to sound positive as he pulled Watson's arm over his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. The doctor made a feeble attempt at supporting his own weight, but his knees buckled beneath him.

"Don't be so lazy," Holmes teased, trying to keep himself calm more than anything else. But Watson was so weak that Holmes was practically dragging him along the warehouse floor leaving a dark trail of blood behind them.

A/N Please take a few moments to review the story so far. If it seems to go down well I will continue. Thanks for reading.