From somewhere, through a haze of pain, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. "John! John? Can you hear me? Please, you have to wake up!" I can't quite place where I have heard it before, but they obviously must care for me because there is a frantic tone in the voice. Hands grip my shoulders tightly and begin gently shaking me. I let out a groan of protest. My head is pounding and I feel as though I've been crushed by several kilos of rocks. Each shake sends a stab of pain through me. "Please John!"
I groan again and reluctantly open my eyes. Bright light sears and I squeese my eyes shut again. Ouch. The hands tighten and I let out a sigh. This person is pretty bloody persistent. Finally I feel ready to try opening my eyes again. When I do I can't help but smile when I see the blue eyes staring at me with concern. Of course- I should have known it would be him. "Sherlock." I croak, my throat dry and parched.
A look of relief passes across Sherlock face and unusually he doesn't try to hide it like he normally would. He really must have been really worried about me. "John! Oh thank God!" I try to sit up and he gently pushes me back down. "I wouldn't move just yet. Stormbringer's lightning attacks did quite a bit of damage. If you move you'll undo all my good work." He says with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
I blink at him in confusion, wondering what on earth he is going on about. Before I can ask him however a strange pain ripples down my left arm, strong enough to cause me to let out a yelp. Sherlock grimaced and lightly taps me on the forehead. A wave of calm washes over me and I find myself off to sleep. I fight it however, determined to find out what is going on. "Sherlock, what happened to you?" I see a flash of pain behind the blue eyes and my stomach lurches as I remember the image that had appeared in the flat. "Sherlock?" I ask a little uncertainly, not sure if I want to hear the answer.
Sherlock sighs. "I really don't want to talk about it." He says with a darkness in his tone. I feel a shiver run down my spine and I swear I see a momentary black flicker in his eyes. It passes too quickly for me to be certain I actually saw it. An uneasy silence falls, stretching out until it is finally broken by Sherlock clearing my throat. "How is Mycroft?" I know he is deliberately changing the subject, but for now I am willing to play along.
Still lying on the floor I attempt a shrug. Instantly I freeze, expecting my muscles to scream in protest and am pleasantly surprised when nothing happens. "He's worried about you Sherlock. Everyone is...Even the Elite Engifted were concerned you had been taken..." My voice trails away when I see the shock written on Sherlock's face. "What?" I ask, afraid I've said something wrong.
He continues to stare at me. "It's nothing...just, you met the Elite Engifted? Really? All of them? I only had the honour of meeting Chronos...What were they like?" He sounds curious and jealous at the same time. As he speaks he lifts his hand from my chest. With a jolt I realise it is glowing. Sherlock notices me looking and hastily lowers it again. "Come on John, indulge me. We're probably never getting out of here."
Well that's a tad defeatist for someone who single handidly defeated Shockwave. Surely he can use his fantastic new powers to get us out of where ever this is. I turn my attention to our surroundings and my heart sinks a little. Ok, I have to admit it doesn't look all that good. We are in a room barely big enough for two people, it would take me four steps to pace from one side to the other, and is completely devoid of any decoration, making the bare concrete walls seem all the more stark and unfriendly. There is no sign of a door, not even an outline, and I can't help but frown a little in confusion. Okay so unless Sherlock can manipulate stone he might have a point. I let out a heavy sigh and quickly tell Sherlock all about the Elite Engifted. He listens silently, apparently fascinated by what I'm saying. My body no longer aches and after a while I feel strong enough to sit up. Sherlock keeps one hand on my shoulder and watches me intently, as though expecting me to double over with pain or something.
Sitting down beside me Sherlock rests his head on mine and wraps one black wings around me. The feathers are warmer than I expected and softer then the silk tie I used to own. It's odd but being this close to Sherlock feels incredibly comfortable, almost like we belong. Sherlock's chest heaves in a sigh. "You know, this wasn't what I was expecting." He said, his voice gentle.
I shift slightly so I can look into his eyes which, now I look closer, are defiantly more black than blue. There is a sadness there and I find myself wanting to somehow wipe it away. "What do you mean?" I ask him softly as I lean back against him. Sherlock hugs me closer and a shiver runs through my skin in response.
There is a heavy sigh before Sherlock finally speaks, his eyes focused on the opposite wall. There is a tension in his body and I am aware of a faint crackle in the air, similar to that I felt when Sherlock was using his powers against Shock wave. "You're so calm about all of this John." He pauses, swallows hard and absently strokes a hand through his feathers, "I expected there to be more panicking and yet...you barely seem affected."
I inhale sharply and twist round to gently place my hand on his left cheek. Sherlock's eyes widen slightly and he seems unsure of what is happening. "At first, a few days after the incident outside Mycroft's house, I was scared of what you were. I only know a few Engifted and none of them have powers like yours." Sherlock's expression falls a little and I hastily carry on talking. "But then, when you didn't come back for weeks, I began to worry and I realised I didn't care what you had become..." My voice trails away as I take another breath. I can't believe I am actually going to say this to him. God knows how he will react. Summoning my courage I carry on talking, "I realised that all I wanted was to have you back Sherlock, Black wings, new powers and all. It's taken this long to realise it but..." I am cut off when Sherlock lays a finger on my lips, a secretive smile on his face mixed with relief.
"I know. You don't need to say it." He murmurs, his voice gentle. My heart skips in response and something deep in my soul, something I have always tried to keep locked away, slowly rises to the surface. "Thank you for always being there for me. You're the only constant thing in my life John." Sherlock says, his eyes a shining ocean blue once more with no trace of the previous black.
I swallow hard. Sherlock's face is inches from my own and I can feel his warm breath against my cheeks. All I would have to do is lean forward and...Before I can react on my impulse Sherlock takes away any chances for indecision on my part. Closing the gap between us he presses his lips against mine. My heart leaps in response and I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. His body is warm against mine and I am vaguely aware of his wings curling around me so I am in a warm, feathery cocoon. Then all thoughts are driven from my mind as I lose myself in the moment. I have wanted this for years and I can hardly believe it's finally happening. The kiss deepens, becoming urgent and I gently run my hands down his shoulders, accidentally brushing against one of his wings. Sherlock shivers in response and let's out a low moan of pleasure.
I break off the kiss and lean back slightly, my eyebrows raised. "Sherlock, what was that?" I ask, my voice breathy. It takes quite some effort not to tear his shirt off.
Before Sherlock can reply a deep, disembodied voice echoes around the tiny room. "I always knew you had a soft spot Mr Holmes." The effect of the voice on Sherlock is startling. With a loud hiss he bares teeth rather more pointed than they were a few weeks ago and shifts into a protective stance with his wings curled above him. The Black feathers almost seem to be rippling with an unseen force. The deep voice lets out a low laugh, "Oh don't be like that. If you would just join me this would be so much easier for all of us. Nobody needs to get hurt." Despite what is being said there is a definite threat of violence in the underlying tone. A shiver runs down my spine. I have a horrible feeling that something is about to happen...
I spoke too soon. Even as I am thinking this thought two tendrils of shadow burst from the wall beside me and wrap themselves tightly around my arms. I barely have time to cry out before I am slammed back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. I gasp out the first word that comes to mind, "Sherlock!"
Sherlock spins round, his face darkening when he sees me. I also see alarm flash across his features which is an emotion I have trouble associating with the often arrogant detective. He goes to step forward and the shadow holding me sharpen, slicing into the flesh of my arms enough to draw blood. Instantly Sherlock freezes but it is clear it pains him to do so...I can see it in his eyes, which are once more beginning to turn black. "Let John go Nightmare. He's not a part of this world and he shouldn't have to suffer for my mistakes." He says, his voice shaking ever so slightly. I always knew he would someday get me killed. I was just hoping I would get to spend some time with him first. Sherlock snarls loudly. "If you hurt him Nightmare, I swear I will kill you."
The deep laugh echoes around the room, sounding, if possible, even more amused then it did before. "I never said that, I, would be be the one to touch him." Nightmare answers with a dark joy in his voice. Despite the danger I am in I find myself gritting my teeth in an attempt to hide my dislike of this Engifted. I don't like anybody who enjoys causing pain to others for their own enjoyment.
As the last strains of Nightmare's voice faded away a tall figure materialised in the centre of the room. A figure with bone white wings and a skeletal body...in short the same Engifted who kidnapped me from Baker Street. I swallow hard against a shiver of fear and feel my heart sink when Sherlock's face drains of colour. He knows who this Engifted is (which is more than I can say for me. I'm still totally in the dark and I'm not sure if I want to be enlightened. Sometimes not knowing can be a blessing). I can almost see the gears of Sherlock brain turning as he tries to work out a way out of this without either of us getting hurt. So far it isn't looking good.
The skeletal Engifted grins and walks over to stand before me, regarding me with a critical eye. He dips his head in a small bow. "Greetings Mr Watson. My name is Bonebreaker and I shall be your torturer today." Well that sounds suitably ominous. I try (and fail miserably) not to flinch when the Engifted places a hand on my shoulder. There is a surge of power, a peculiar pulling sensation and then I feel my shoulder dislocated with a small crack.
I bite my lip against a cry of pain and force myself to focus on something else. My gaze is drawn almost against my will to Sherlock as though, somehow, the mere look of him will give me strength. Right now he seems torn between acting and causing me even more pain, or doing nothing and being forced to watch Bonebreaker do his work. Neither choice seems particularly appetising and I can see him doing something stupid in the near future. I don't think I could bear it if he got hurt because of me, especially since I have only just been reunited with him. In a desperate attempt to communicate I shake my head slightly to show that I'll be fine, despite the dull pain radiating from my shoulder.
Sherlock however doesn't appear to notice and is staring at Bonebreaker with a smouldering hatred similar to that directed at Shock wave when he was threatening me and Lestrade. I can still remember all too clearly what happened on that occasion. All remaining thoughts are driven from my head when Bonebreaker places a splayed hand on my chest. Once again there is a surge of power and two of my ribs snap beneath the pressure. This time I don't even try to hold back my cry of pain, a cry that quickly turns into a choked gasp when I find myself struggling to breath through the sharp stab I feel every time my chest moves. Tears spring to my eyes and I feel one slowly drip down my cheek. I hang my head, unable to look at the pain in Sherlock's eyes any longer.
"For God's sake stop it!" Sherlock shouts. There is a long, ominous silence that seems to carry a great weight within it, and then Bonebreaker let's out a piercing shriek and falls to his knees. Weakly I raise my head. Blood drips from Bonebreaker's eyes and mouth while the Engifted moans quietly, obviously suffering from some deep internal torment. I glance over at Sherlock and my eyes widen in shock. A dark aura glows around my friend and his eyes are the same deep inky black as his lace like feathers. Suddenly I'm not sure who he is any more. The thought scares me a little.
Bonebreaker screams again, his voice rising until it breaks and he is left without words. Blood pours from his mouth and he slumps forward, becoming horribly still. He doesn't move and I feel my pulse skip. Sherlock can't have really killed him can he? "Sherlock, what the hell did you do?" I demand, struggling against the shadows around my arms and not caring about the blood trickling from the nasty cuts. Sherlock remains silent and I feel a momentary wave of panic. I swallow hard. "Sherlock?" I ask a little hesitantly, afraid of what the answer might be.
When Sherlock looks at me his eyes are blank and utterly devoid of all emotion. "I stopped him from hurting you." There is something not quite human about him but I can't put my finger on what exactly has changed. It could be the black eyes, the claws or the black glow around him but it is something more than that. His entire being is different...this is not the Sherlock I know and love. With an immense effort I manage not to flinch when he places a hand on my chest. The shadows binding my arms fall away. A feeling of calm settles over me, despite the black veins criss-crossing Sherlock's face and the fact I can feel my bones shifting and crunching back together. To my surprise it does not hurt at all. I have to admit that I feel a little guilty for misjudging Sherlock so badly. I should have known someone with the power to break would also have the power to heal.
Maybe there is some way of bringing the old Sherlock back. Slowly I reach up to cup his cheek, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Sherlock, I know your there. Come back to me."
To my joy and relief I see a spark in the blank, black eyes as Sherlock sucks in a heaving breath. Even as I watch the ugly looking veins vanish and he once more becomes the person I know so well. For a moment there I actually thought I had lost him. Still we are not of the woods yet. There is a peculiar tension in the air and I feel Sherlock shaking beneath my hand. He is balancing on the edge and I sense it will it take much to push him over the edge. I am going to have to be careful. "Sherlock." I do not know what else to say. Apparently I do not need to say anything.
Leaning forward Sherlock lightly kisses me on the forehead. "I'm alright John, I'm alright." Wrapping his arms around me he holds me tightly, like he is never going to let me go (not that I'm complaining). "Come on, let's go home." He murmurs quietly, unfurling his wings and stretching them out behind him. Right at this moment I do not care how Sherlock will get us out of here. We are together again and that is all that matters; everything is right with the world again.
Nightmare knew straight away something had gone terribly wrong in the little cell from the moment he could no longer feel the shadows he had sent. Losing his shadows was like having a piece of his body torn away. Baring silver fangs in a snarl of rage Nightmare swept along the corridor, his serpentine coils sending Engifted flying when they failed to get out of the way in time. Pausing briefly outside the room he probed for life signs and was not surprised when nothing came back. Apparently his suspicions about Sherlock were correct... Nightmare should have known better than to underestimate him. Swearing beneath his breath the Engifted lashed out at the stone wall, his long talons easily tearing into the hard material before he stared at the door and snarled. Bonebreaker was going to pay dearly for this mistake.
Phasing through the door Nightmare paused when his red eyes settled on Bonebreaker's limp, and broken looking form. He sighed and shook his head. It looked like the Engifted had already suffered when you noticed the blood staining the floor around him. Nightmare still however felt some regret he was unable to punish Bonebreaker himself. Sadness flashed across the serpentine features quick enough that you would be forgiven for missing it. He and Bonebreaker had known each other for years and now Nightmare was just that little more alone... chiding himself for being so sentimental the Engifted forcibly shoved the thoughts to one side and instead turned his concentration to the problem at hand. Somewhere, out in the city of London, Sherlock was laughing at Nightmare and gloating about how, despite everything Nightmare had done to hurt him, he was able to heal any wound you inflicted on him. And Nightmare should know because he had been incredibly creative...
Nightmare let out a quiet groan. This whole thing was rapidly becoming one gigantic mess. Normally it was so much easier to force Engifted to join him. The detective was proving to be a hard nut to crack... not that Nightmare was going to give up that easily. Especially now Nightmare knew Sherlock had a weakness that he could exploit. A dark smile turned up the corners of his jaws and he rubbed his claws together in anticipation. No, all was not lost quite yet. All needed to do was get his claws on somebody the detective cared about. After that, he was certain, Sherlock would do anything he was asked. Victory was still within his grasp and Nightmare planned to take it. After all he knew exactly where to go thanks to his time spent flicking through Sherlock's memories...
Back in 221B Baker Street Mycroft and Greg were anxiously pacing around the living room when everything was suddenly plunged into darkness. Instantly Mycroft sent out tendrils of ice but they were quickly shattered beneath an onslaught of black shadows that seemed to come out of nowhere. Before Mycroft could even consider another attack he felt something wrap around his neck and tighten, cutting off his oxygen. From somewhere close by he heard Greg cry out in surprise, a cry that turned into a muffled gasp. Cursing loudly Mycroft struggled, trying to coat the shadows around his neck with ice. To his horror the ice melted as quickly as it formed. He knew then exactly who was behind the attack.
"Nightmare." He choked out in a barely audible voice, "why are you doing this?"
In answer the shadows tightened further, causing dark spots to form on the edges of Mycroft's vision. "It's nothing personal Iceman. I just have a score I wish to settle with your little brother."
If he had not been concerned about being imminently strangled to death Mycroft would almost certainly have rolled his eyes. Instead he barely had time to form a coherant thought of 'oh for God's sake not again' and 'please let Greg be ok' before he surrendered to the darkness.
