John was thrown into a room, untied and exhausted. The only thing in the room were a few boxes, a chair, and a window near the ceiling. The two men who brought him there moved aside when Moriarty stepped inside.

"I can be civil, John. I hate seeing you being treated like you're forced to be here."

John gritted his teeth. "Then, let me go."

Moriarty giggled and shook his head. "I don't think so. Don't be so hasty to leave, John. I have big, big plans for you."

He stood in front of John, smiling. John saw his chance. The two men had left and it was just him and Moriarty. But, he had to be careful and wait for the right moment to attack. He decided to play Moriarty's game.

"Plans? You mean there's more to this game?" John asked.

"Oh, yes, dear John. I saw how desperate Sherlock was to save you and it just sparked something of me." Moriarty replied, cheerfully.

John grimaced. "And, what was that?"

Moriarty smiled, widely. "Jealousy, dear John. I was jealous because Sherlock had someone he cared about. Someone he would fight for. And, me? Well, I have no one. At first, I planned to kill you both back there, but seeing Sherlock look at you the way he did...it changed my mind."

His words slowed down and his hand reached to touch John's cheek. His chest tightened as Moriarty got closer to his face.

John swallowed. "So, you plan to use me to get to Sherlock again. Only this time...you'll kill him. And, as for me..."

Moriarty smiled and finished for him. "I'll keep you all for myself. And, that's all I want right now, John."

Moriarty leaned closer, eyeing John's mouth. He licked his lips and drew closer. John didn't fight. He remained still as Moriarty drew closer.

Then, he slammed his head forward and Moriarty cried out in pain, holding his nose. John wrapped his arm around Moriarty's neck as his goons rushed in, holding guns.

"Get back!" John yelled.

Moriarty laughed. "This feels familiar, doesn't it, John?"

"Shut up." John said, harshly.

"I love this about you, John. I just love it."

John looked around, trying to make his next move. Moriarty, however, was quicker. He kicked John's injured leg and felt his arm let him go. John cried out in pain and slowly put his hands up. The two goons ran up to him and grabbed each of his arms, pinning them behind his back.

He struggled but it was useless. Blood fell from Moriarty's nose and his lower lip. He adjusted his tie and chuckled.

"It's useless to fight against me, John. Just face the fact that I will never let you go," he said, lifting John's chin with his hand.

John shook his head out of Moriarty's grip with a grunt. Frowning, Moriarty kicked John's injured leg again, causing burning tears to fill his eyes.

Moriarty grabbed John's chin but he tried to shake away. He spoke viciously to John, grinding his teeth.

"Hey. LOOK at me. I tried to pour my black heart out to you, but you have blocked out anything and everything I say. I wanted to spend my life with you, John."

John looked at Moriarty, terrified. Moriarty was speaking truthfully. His eyes narrowed and he slapped John across the face. Hard. His goons kept him from falling down.

"You see me as the bad guy and nothing else. Well, you've just gotten your wish." Moriarty spat.

His goons dragged John to the chair and tied him up. Once they had finished, Moriarty asked them to leave. They closed the door and John kept his eyes on the floor, as Moriarty approached him.

"You're such a loyal little thing, John. Sherlock would be so proud of his pet. He must be because he's trained you so well."

"I'm not his pet." John spat.

Another slap in the face. John's cheek burned.

"He can't hear you, John. So there's no point in keeping up the charade," Moriarty mocked.

John said nothing. Moriarty kneeled down so he was at his eye level. His hands grabbed John's thighs and slid all the way up to his face.

"I could kiss you, John."

John shut his eyes. Moriarty pressed his forehead against John's, breathing heavily.

"Has Sherlock kissed you?"

John didn't answer. This fueled Moriarty's anger as he slapped John again. He grabbed John's chin, roughly. Tears built up in John's eyes but he held them in.

"Answer me!" Moriarty shouted.

Nothing. Another slap. The tears couldn't be held in. They dripped down his cheeks and Moriarty mocked him.

"Oh, poor John," he whispered, "I told you that I didn't want to hurt you."

He wiped one of them with his thumb, then licked it. John shook his head.

"He's going to kill you."

Moriarty slapped him again. "He can't even find me!"

"He'll kill you," John said.

Moriarty pulled out a small knife and grabbed John's chin. "Say that again! I dare you! Say one more word and I will cut your tongue off!"

Not wanting to anger him anymore, John held his tongue. Taking a deep breath, Moriarty stepped away from him. He adjusted his jacket and cleared his throat like a business man about to give a presentation.

"You'll regret everything you said, you little pest. Wait and see," Moriarty snarled, pointing at John.

He turned and left the room. John hung his head and couldn't help but cry a bit. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Sherlock burst through that door and rescue him.

Sherlock, where the bloody hell are you?