Summary: "Every person has their pressure point... Someone they want to protect from harm." - Jim Moriarty
Sebastian Moran is locked away in prison, but he plots to escape and seek revenge on Mycroft Holmes. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John are dealing with a change in their relationship, trying not to fall apart. And as ties are tested and allegiances altered, events unfold in the streets of London that threaten both the Holmes brothers and everyone they care for. Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock. Rated T because reasons... Reasons like intense themes and torture.
Pressure Points
Chapter Two: Idiot
oOOOo
Two weeks previously...
"It bet you wouldn't even care if it had been me there, bleeding and dying and begging for help!"
The way John had said it clearly told Sherlock that his angry flatmate was expecting him to refute it, to tell him that of course Sherlock cared about him, don't be ridiculous. He had been yelling at Sherlock for several minutes now, calling him all sorts of names Sherlock had been accustomed to hearing for years, though not from John. How Sherlock was such a heartless bastard, how he cared about nothing but the case or his own thrills. How Sherlock should have at least shown some sympathy for the victims of this case, especially for the one they had arrived too late to save. That was what had pushed John over the edge, causing to accuse his stoic flatmate of not caring.
But the moment John said this, it was as if he was begging Sherlock to tell him he was wrong about all this, that there was a scrap of humanity in Sherlock's cold heart. Yet Sherlock had never been good with emotions, and the sudden demand that he share them frightened him. How could he possibly express what he was feeling? Didn't John know he was terrible at this, didn't he know Sherlock had no idea, for all his intellect, how to put into words how much John meant to him?
So Sherlock had simply sat there, frozen and silent, his back to John, as he tried to find the words he needed.
"Oh my God, you really don't care."
John's voice was a horrified whisper, filled with hurt and fury. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat, but still he couldn't speak.
"You really don't care about me, you freak," John choked out, sounding on the verge of tears.
Then he was gone, storming out of the flat like always, leaving Sherlock alone with his hardening heart against the insult he hated above all the others, the one he had never expected to hear from John. John, the only one Sherlock had ever let in, the only one he would risk his life for without hesitation, the only one ...
No, just forget it Holmes. He'll leave you, just like everyone else. Don't waste your energy worrying about how to apologize to him. He thinks you're a freak, and maybe you are. But there's no fixing this, just like there never has been before.
But he couldn't stop the scream of frustration that slipped from his lips.
Idiot!
He didn't know if he was talking about himself or John.
oOOOo
Back in the present...
John was on the way home from work when he received a text from Sherlock. He frowned at the screen of his phone in surprise, since they had hardly been speaking for weeks now. Curious, and hoping his flatmate wasn't just telling him they needed more milk, he opened the text.
Mycroft just called me. Moran and another criminal escaped from prison. SH
What? How? JW
They're investigating now. I've asked Mycroft to let me in on the investigation. Just thought you should know. SH
Can I do anything to help? JW
No. SH
Well fine. That seemed to settle that. John rolled his eyes and shoved his mobile back into his pocket. He drummed his fingers on his knee, thinking about Moran. The highly-trained sniper had been an ally of Moriarty, and had been caught the same day John and Sherlock had been kidnapped and nearly killed. He had been in prison ever since, and John had been able to sleep well knowing this, knowing that Moriarty's web was surely falling apart with the two heads dead or locked away. But now that Moran was out, John felt a rush of adrenaline and something like fear. He ran his fingers across the scars on his arms from that dark factory and closed his eyes against the unbidden rush of memories.
The lightest patter of rain outside. Moriarty's leering face bent over him. Sherlock collapsed on the ground, a gash in his arm.
Fear. Pain. Blood.
"Give up?" Moriarty's voice seemed so real that John flinched, hand tightening around his own wrist. He opened his eyes and looked back down at the crisscross patter of white lines, and for a moment, he could remember the feeling of the cold knife cutting through him.
oOOOo
Sherlock was conscious when they burst inside the flat, but not when they left. He could thank the mild sedative, or whatever had been in the syringe Moran had jabbed in his neck, for that. All he - dimly - remembered was hearing a smash, then being carried downstairs and thrown into something, a van perhaps, or the backseat of a car. He tried desperately to stay awake, annoyed he was being kidnapped in almost the exact same way as last time. Obviously he needed to take better precautions in the flat, but in his defense, he had been inside his mind palace when they'd broken in, so had basically been oblivious to what was happening until it was too late.
Idiot, he thought, then passed out completely. The car drove off an instant later, and from the front seat, Moran gave a triumphant smile. Step one of the plan was complete. Now the games could really begin. He hoped Jim would have been proud of him.
oOOOo
John was relieved when the cab stopped in front of Baker Street. He paid the cabbie and stepped out, opening the door, then darting up the stairs.
"Hey Sherlock, want to tell me about what's going on with Moran-?" But the room was empty. John frowned, looking around. "Sherlock?"
And there on the floor, a few meters from John's feet, was the remains of Sherlock mobile phone. John gave a sharp intake of breath when he noticed a small slip of paper next to the bits of metal, glass, and plastic. He bent over and read the note.
And it made his blood run cold as once again Moriarty's voice rang out in his ear.
"You think you can save him, John? SB"
Sorry this chapter wasn't really any longer than the prologue, but I promise the next chapter is longer! Please review, dearies, I love your feedback!