A/N: Well I decided to add another chapter to this story. Why? Because I was in the mood. Warning this story will get more graphic in the next few chapters. This one has mentions of rape and killing so you have been warned. This chapter has a slight fluffy moment and in sorry, but I found it necessary. Now time for this chapter!
Disclaimer: I do own Sherlock! (I'm just kidding, I really don't. Even though I wish I did). ;)
Sherlock shivered under his blankets, pulling them closer to his body. His stomach growled, but he didn't want to get up. All he wanted to do was to hide under the safe, warm blankets forever. He couldn't sleep either, haunted by his memories. He rubs his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to come. The door opens slightly and the detective closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He hears John sigh and come towards his bed. The younger man tenses slightly, still very scared of others touching him. John's soft hand rubs his shoulder gently.
"Oh, Sherlock. I wish you would just get up and be my friend again." Sherlock hears sadness in the older man's voice. The door opens and shuts again, leaving the detective alone. He wishes he could go back to normal, to be happy and smile with John, but he couldn't. Not anymore. No, he is changed for the worse, possibly forever. Soon he begins to drift into sleep, his tired body allowing him some rest. Too bad the rest wasn't pleasant.
Pain, hurt, and terror.
The devil's cackle ringing through his bleeding ears.
Everything hurts.
Everything burns.
It never stops.
Each touch burns his skin, melting it in the process.
Any gentle touch makes him uncomfortable.
Sherlock tells him to stop, but begging only encourages him to hurt you more.
If you cry he hits you to make you cry harder.
This was his punishment for you.
He liked to hurt you.
It made him feel powerful.
He wanted to be king and rule.
Rule your mind.
Rule your body.
Rule you heart.
Rule you.
This was why he was hurting you like this.
He liked to be king.
He was right, he does look good in a crown.
Especially when you are laying next to his throne.
Broken and beaten.
"John, he's only going to get worse." Doctor Fawking says through the phone, worry in his voice."Sherlock needs another examination and possibly psytriatric help."
"Yes I know, but he refuses to get out of bed, much less get in the car to visit his least favorite place in the world." John scoffs, hearing the other doctor click his tongue in protest.
"Well figure it out. I will be ready for you at fout thirty." The other line goes and the ex-soldier sighs, pulling his phone from his ear. That's when he hears it again. Sherlock yelling at the top of his lungs for help. John runs into the room, noticing the hysterical man is not on his bed. Instead he was on the floor, tangled in the blankets. The screaming has stopped, making everything much easier.
John giggles a bit, watching the detective roll around as he tries to escape the white, fluffy bonds. He stops laughing through when Sherlock begins to turn blue. He's being choked by the sheet around his neck! John tries to pull it away, but the struggling man is only making it tighter with every movement. The doctor gets up, running into the kitchen. He searches through the stuffed kitchen drawers, finally finding a knife.
He sprints back into the bedroom, Sherlock's skin nearly purple. John carefully and quickly begins to cut the sheet, urging himself to go faster. After what seems like forever, he cuts through it, pulling the entire sheet away. Sherlock coughs, trying to breathe.
"Hey, mate, just breathe." John comforts, rubbing his friend's back. Sherlock gets his breath back, falling into the ex-soldier's arms. He just leans against the older man's chest, making sure he's still there and safe. "Sherlock, we need to go back to the hospital today and you need to see a doctor who can help you, all right?" Sherlock nods into his friend's shirt, knowing he needs help. That's when John knew how bad it exactly was.
John paces back and forth nervously, hoping his friend was okay. The thought of foreign hands and unfamiliar voices surrounding the already terrified man worried John. He couldn't possibly imagine what Sherlock was feeling or thinking. A loud scream makes the ex-soldier jump put of his skin and he listens for where the distressed noise had come from. It had been down the hallway. Where Sherlock was.
Alone and scared.
John sprints down the hallway, trying to reach his friend. He gets to the room and flings the door open, surprised at what he sees. Sherlock was being held down by two large male nurses, while another was trying to jab a needle into his arm. One nurse who was blond, was trying to hold down Sherlock's flinging arms.
The other was trying to strap his arms down, while his legs had already been. Sherlock cries, telling the men not to hurt him. The one trying to strap him down slaps him, yelling at him to shut up. This only makes Sherlock yell louder and the male nurse clamps a heavy hand over Sherlock's mouth, muffling the hysterical cries and pleads. After a moment of staring, John recovers from his shock and let's all hell break loose.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?! HE NEEDS HELP, NOT TO BE DAMAGED MORE THAN HE ALREADY IS!" The nurses stop, just staring at him. The nurses were still now, but the one was still covering Sherlock's mouth. "Get... off.. of.. him. Now!" John ordered, trying not to rip this guy apart.
"I can't, sir. He'll just start screaming again and scare everyone in the hospital." Just then Doctor Fawking walks in, dropping his jaw when he sees what the nurses, his nurses were doing. He places his clipboard down calmly, adjusting his glasses. John watches as his eyes turn from warm and friendly to fury and hellfire.
"Nurses, grab you're coats and leave. Do NOT come back or you will really know what happens to staff who mistreat patients " The nurse who still had his hands on Sherlock tried to protest, but Doctor Fawking stops him with his hand. "Nurse Gare, get off of my patient now." The nurse sees the fire in the doctor's eyes and does so. Sherlock begins sobbing and yelling again, while the nurses leave with their heads bowed.
Doctor Fawking goes over to the broken man, beginning to unstrap his bonds. He doesn't yell at Sherlock, he only calmly releases the man, gesturing for John to come to him.
"Doctor Watson, please come over here for a moment." He does so, noticing Doctor Fawking eyes were calm and friendly again. "I need you to calm him down, then i want to look at his lower area again, just to see if he's healing alright." John nods, walking over to his friend's side. Sherlock has his head buried into the sheet, crying and beating his fists like a small child throwing a tantrum. John squats down so he's at Sherlock's eye level.
"Hey, Sher, stop yelling and look at me." He says softly, getting no response. He tries again, but a bit louder. "Sherlock, look at me and calm down. Alright, mate?" Sherlock stops kicking, but is still crying. At least he wasn't screaming anymore. "Good, now Doctor Fawking is going to look at your lower body, but their is nothing to worry about. He is not going to hurt you, okay?" Sherlock nods, finally done crying.
John takes his friend's hand, wiping away the tears. The older man rubs his friend's head, calming him. Sherlock flinches a bit when Doctor Fawking begins to evaluate his area, but with some comforting words and friendly smiles, Sherlock lays his head down and relaxes. He listens to John's soft voice murmuring to him oh so gently. Sherlock closes his eyes, exhausted from all of his carrying on. John thinks he's asleep, until Sherlock grabs his hand tightly.
"John, thank you for protecting me." He whispers with a smile.
"No problem, you're my best friend." Sherlock closes his eyes and after a few minutes, Doctor Fawking finishes. Him and the doctor step into the hallway, leaving Sherlock alone for a few minutes.
"So how is he, Doctor?" John asks, crossing his arms.
"Well I have some... unexpected news." John raises an eyebrow at the doctor. "It appears that Sherlock's lower area hasn't healed at all."
"What?!" John spats, complexity shocked. "But it's been almost a month, how is he not better?"
"Well it seems it's gotten worse actually." The ex-soldier cannot believe what he's hearing. "It appears the damage is further than it was last time. Much worse."
John's jaw hits the floor.
"How the bloody hell could it have gotten worse?" The doctor pauses, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
"John, has anyone been in the flat lately with Sherlock besides you?"
"No, only me. Why?" John was terrified to hear the answer that he already knew.
"It seems that someone is coming and doing these things to Sherlock."
"How often?" John whispers horsley.
"Quite often. At least once a day." Doctor Fawking answers calmly. "I can run some tests to take samples to see who is doing this to him."
"Oh, I already know and I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!" John yells, clenching his fists together. How could he have not known that this was happening to Sherlock?! How could he have been so stupid! He was going to kill that man! He was going to rip his throat out, then watch him bleed. Make him suffer, make him beg. Make him hurt like he hurt Sherlock. That bastard was going down and John was the one who was going to crush him. He was going to kill Moriarty with his bare hands.
That was a promise.
Do you want more? Review and let me know!