A/N: And this is where the cover image comes in... -JC
000
Who are we to be emotional?
Who are we to play with hearts and throw it all away?
-Ellie Goulding, This Love (Will Be Your Downfall)
Chapter 10- Sherlock
Twenty-one hours, fourteen minutes, thirty-nine seconds
Everything ached. My head, my legs, my wrists- which seem to be suspended above my head- everything. I eased my eyelids open slowly, but nothing could have prepared me for the bursts of light that hit me from every direction and sent nails through both my temples. I felt myself whimper involuntarily. My vision was blurry around the edges, but I could make windows on either side of me, which explained the light. I was covered in cold sweat and my jacket was gone. It was clear I had been standing here for a while. I tried to pull my hands down in vein, finding they were attached to the wall in front of me by thin black manacles. I leaned my forehead against the cool plaster, fighting to keep from drowning in utter helplessness.
"Isn't this lovely?" An all-too-familiar voice broke my train of thought. Moriarty.
I didn't dare look up. "I should have guessed this was your work. Who else could possibly have such a weakness for melodrama? And the chains- very cliché."
He laughed. "I'm enjoying the moment while it lasts, Sherlock, don't spoil it." Moriarty walked toward me, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. "I could do anything to you now. Anything at all. It's a real pity you can't kneel. I can't tell you just how much I would love to see you beg for mercy." He reached up and grabbed my right index finger. Suddenly he snapped it back with a soft crunch and pain flooded my arm all the way down to my elbow. I gritted my teeth and pressed my other fingers around it, holding it in place. Every little jerk was echoed by agony. Moriarty stepped back, and I sensed he was smiling.
"What do you want from me?" I yanked down on my cuffs impulsively, but the edges of them were rusted and sharp, and soon there was blood running down my wrists.
"All I'm asking for is your cooperation." He hissed in my ear. "Mrs. Adler would appreciate it as well. Remember that chip in your shoulder? She's got one too. And this one's special. It's packed with enough explosives to kill her several times over. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
Of course he would use my feelings against me. Mycroft had been right. Caring was, and always would be, a disadvantage.
Moriarty hovered over my shoulder. "I've just sent your friends another little message. It shouldn't take them too long to get here."
Another message? He must had been at the center of this from the very beginning, when I was abducted and they ever-so-conveniently left John the address. "Who did you give the note to this time?"
He laughed. "It doesn't matter who has the message. Just who has the address."
"Irene." I realized suddenly. "You met here before that whole scandal in Belgravia." It made sense. Moriarty enjoyed irony far too much for him to pick a random place.
"Bit of a shady place to meet, but it served its purposes. But of course kidnapping you again would be awfully boring and pointless. So this time I'm getting something vital out of it. Can you guess what that is?"
His plan was abruptly obvious. It was so simple and yet…so efficient. "You're going to use John to control me."
"And here I was thinking you were losing your touch. But in the end you're just another one of my puppets, except for the minor issue of your strings being a bit harder to pull. You act like you have no idea what love is, but both of us know that all I have to do is threaten John and you'll do whatever I ask. You've always been so predictable, Sherlock. And as for your Irene…Penn has always had a fixation for pretty things."
I didn't let myself flinch. The last thing I would ever do for that worm would be letting him see how his words affected me. Why did I ever cease to separate myself from the cruelties of emotions? You knew sentiment was a vicious killer.
Footfalls sounded outside the room. I twisted my neck around the slightest bit to see the door knob turn. Moriarty slammed my head against the wall, making my receding headache return with a vengeance. I could feel the barrel of a pistol digging into the back of my throat. I shut my eyes. Hinges squeaked as the door swung open.
"Like my new trinket? He's a rare edition."
"Do shut up, Mr. Moriarty. It would save us all a lot of wasted breath." It was Irene's voice. I tasted bile.
"I really don't think that's going to be possible. And it's a bit of a surprise to see you here. I didn't know if you were smart enough to survive that incident with the tracking chip." Rage filled me. He had tried to kill her. No doubt he was going to try again. Not to mention, John was in for a world of pain if Moriarty got hold of him. I had to get out of here.
John was getting agitated. "Just get to the point. We're sick of your games. All you're doing is stalling for time."
"Have a little patience. I'm getting there. Sherlock's a bit tied up at the moment, and as much I would love seeing him try and dance his way out of this, I'm on a rather tight schedule. But since I'm feeling generous, I'm going to make my intentions extremely clear." I craned my neck to watch him out of the corner of my eye. "Your friends are unarmed, Mr. Holmes. The gun I'm holding is full of bullets, not tranquilizers. Pull a stunt like the one you almost performed the first time we met face-to-face, and I'll pick which of your friends I put a hole in the head of. But here's the twist. I am glad that both of you two came, because that makes this so much more fun. Either I kill one of them, or I take John off your hands, Sherlock, and let you walk away, on the condition that you grant me the pleasure of killing Irene or John- you choose which one lives and which one survives." There was a kind of hunger in his expression as he said it. "I'll give you a minute to think about it."
"Much obliged." I said sarcastically. Without even considering it, I knew the choice was impossible. Even I did succeed in choosing one over the other, I would never be able to live with myself.
The minutes passed as my indecision reigned. Silence shimmered like heat waves in the air around us, making it hard to breathe. Finally Moriarty glanced at his watch and sighed. "Time's up." I heard him cock the pistol. Every part of my very being turned cold with fear, screaming no louder than my voice ever could.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the bang followed by the utter emptiness I knew would come.
But it never did.
"WAIT!" John almost threw the word at Moriarty, desperation panging in his tone. "I'll stay with you. I'll- I'll do anything you want me to. I swear I will." His voice was shaking. "Just… don't kill him."
Jim Moriarty laughed. It was a hysterical, half-mad sound. I had nearly forgotten how entertaining this was proving to be with him. "You never cease to amaze me, John Watson. No wonder he keeps you around." He unlocked my handcuffs and I rubbed my chaffed wrists even though the pain seem of little significance now, and my finger's throbbing lessened, making room for deeper pains. Moriarty chained John up in my place and I just stood there. Never in my life had I felt this helpless. I longed to tell him I would get him out of this, but I couldn't, not with Moriarty there and the fact I wasn't even sure if my words were true. Not to mention, I was positive there was no way I could speak past the lump in my throat.
I walked over to where Irene was standing, wide-eyed by the door. The last thing I heard as I pulled the door shut behind us, determined not to look back, was a man who knew how to play with someone's heart saying, "Do come back soon, Sherlock."
000
Sixteen hours, fifty-eight minutes, five seconds
The second we'd gotten back to the hotel, I'd headed to my room. I'd been staring at the wall for at least a few hours. Keeping track of the time was fairly low on my list of priorities. Of course, John's life was in danger, and my brain picked now, or all times, to shut down, leaving me to draw a blank over and over.
I hardly noticed Irene sitting down next to me on my bed. Her fingers curled around my wrist, brushing away the bits of dried blood and taking my pulse in the same movement. I almost laughed at the irony of it.
"I'm guessing now would be a bad time to ask about dinner?" False amusement offered only very thin concealment of the anxious undertone in her voice, physical proof that at least one of us is not dead yet.
I took her hand instead of answering her, turning it over so I could kiss her inner wrist, my lips pressing against the fluttering thumps of her beating heart.
"What if you were to get the police and corner Moriarty right now?" Irene was clearly hopeful, and it was clouding her judgment.
"He'd have spies everywhere. Someone would alert him and he'd get away. Besides, he undoubtedly has his own line of defense."
She sighed, and I forced myself to remember the one decision I had made: pulling her out of the line of fire.
"Irene…Moriarty has John now, but if he doesn't feel like he has enough control over me-"
"He'll come for me." Realization spread across her features.
I nodded. "He's making it hard enough as it is. I need you to buy a ticket for the next available train. It doesn't matter where you go, just pick a place he won't think to look and, if he does find you, one that has a good escape route. As soon as this is over, I'll call you."
Irene was obviously annoyed that she couldn't stay, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about letting her leave me again, but it was necessary. "Alright," She whispered resignedly, and kissed me softly one last time before pulling away and heading over to my laptop, which John had managed to grab as he'd left the flat.
I didn't really want to sleep, but my body was betraying me, exhaustion fogging up my usually clear thoughts. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headboard, knowing that the next time I opened them Irene would be gone, safe, somewhere out of his reach.
In the meantime, I was still no closer in figuring out of a solution to the program Moriarty had so dramatically presented to me.
-jADE
A/N: Yeah I never meant for this to be Johnlock, but if you want to look at John's sacrifice like that, go ahead (even though I already established this is a Sherlene fic, but whatever floats your ship). Anyways, this is the second to last chapter, so brace yourselves. -JC