A/N: Short chapter, I'm dragging it out, I know. This story will probably only have a few more chapters.
Sherlock woke up, half-sprawled over Jim. His head was lying on the consulting criminal's chest. He woke up to the gentle feeling of fingers running through his dark hair. He looked up to see Jim, his eyes still closed, just petting Sherlock's hair, humming softly as he did. Sherlock scooted up and kissed Jim's lips lightly. Jim opened his dark eyes and smiled.
"Good morning beautiful," the villain said softly, his fingers running through Sherlock's curls once more.
"What happened?" Sherlock asked. His memory was a little fuzzy. "Did you drug me?"
"Well, baby, you were up until 6AM pacing the floorboards so I just gave you a little something to help you sleep," Jim said. He rolled onto his side, looking at Sherlock. "Are you mad?"
Sherlock was sitting upright and staring at Jim. He remembered now, pacing the floor, back and forth and looking at Jim. Thinking, and debating with himself. Jim is evil, but he is so interesting. Jim's a killer, but he can be so gentle. Jim doesn't really care about me… or does he?
Sherlock turned his attention fully to the present. Baby? Had he just called him baby? And then the question at the end. "Are you mad?" Why would he care? The first three days Sherlock had been there Jim did little else than physically, sexually and mentally abuse him. By rights, Sherlock should be enraged by the entire situation he was in. He was being blackmailed. All the people who were closest to him were being watched; could be killed at any moment if he didn't do as he was told.
But he wasn't angry… He was grateful that Jim had slipped him the light sedative. He'd still be pacing about if he hadn't.
"Sherlock?" Jim reached up and caressed his face. The detective leaned into the touch.
"No, I'm not mad," he whispered. Jim smiled at him.
"Tea time then? We've slept well past breakfast," Moriarty said.
"I'm not very hungry…" Sherlock said in a small voice. He saw Jim's eyes harden a bit.
"We've talked about this…" the smaller man said, "What did I say?"
"I need to eat more or I'm going to waste away…" Sherlock mumbled, like a reprimanded child, "I'm not exactly active anymore though. You're going to make me eat and I'll gain weight and just get fat."
Sherlock was pouting. He crossed his arms over his chest. Jim leaned in close, his arms wrapping around his adorable pet.
"Would you like to be more active?" he whispered. Sherlock blinked.
"What?" he looked a little confused.
"You could work with me…" Jim whispered in his ear, giving the lobe a little bite, "Creating problems that Scotland Yard's finest could never solve. We could stump your big brother too. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Jim nibbled on Sherlock's neck. The consulting detective stiffened a little. Jim felt it. He already knew the answer.
"I can't do that…" Sherlock said. Jim turned Sherlock's face to look at him.
"Why? Do you hold some kind of conviction?" he asked, "You don't care about Scotland Yard. They're all a bunch of morons. Oh, but it's not about them is it Sherlock? It's about John, isn't it?"
Jim watched Sherlock's pupils dilate at the mention of his former flat mate.
"It is, isn't it? John's the thing that keeping you tied to your old life. You're happy here. You like it! And do you think I haven't noticed your little moral dilemma? Did you think, in my own home that I wouldn't notice that you were planning on poisoning me Sherlock?"
Sherlock whimpered and almost cowered as Jim's voice grew louder and angrier with each sentence.
"I'm sorry!" Sherlock said. Conflicts were racing in his mind and he felt like he was going insane. He covered his ears and hid his head.
"Stay here if you want," Jim yelled, shoving Sherlock off the bed, "Go ahead and starve for all I care."
The powerful man got up and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Sherlock in a mess of blankets on the marble floor.
John knew he was so close to a breakthrough. He'd analyzed everything. Everything he could; the floor, the blankets, the pillows, occasionally he got a little peek outside a window. Any sounds that he heard other than Sherlock and Jim, he noted. He had been putting off analyzing Sherlock. He knew that the biggest clues were going to come from the detective, but it stabbed him in the gut to watch him like that. He started the video for what probably was the 20th time, though it felt like the 50th. John watched Sherlock. He listened to every word and sound coming out of Sherlock's mouth, ignoring anything else. He had to watch it all the way through, but the answer was suddenly blatantly obvious. He couldn't believe it. Sherlock was so ridiculously clever! He had snuck Morse code letters into his actions and sounds. It was a bit jumbled, since Moriarty had cut and put pieces of video together, but he had a nice string of letters to decode into what would hopefully lead him to Sherlock.