John's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. The dizziness had somewhat subsided. His fight or flight reaction kicked in and he forced himself to calm down: breathe, just breathe.
He'd got out of this before – he just had to figure out how to do it again.
John could feel that the effects of whatever drug it was they'd knocked him out with were wearing off. His senses were coming back to him, he smelt the sterile cleanness of the hospital room he recognised from his imagined time at Hughenden. When his eyes finally consented to open he saw the blue room from his memories. The room Moriarty had apparently held him in for six months. The man himself was standing the other side of the room, glaring down at him. John felt bile rise in his throat and vomited on the linoleum floor. He coughed and hacked up vomit, struggling to breath.
'Oh John!' Moriarty groaned. 'But then I suppose I should have expected it…you puked everywhere last time. Dirty boy.'
'Fuck…off!' John gasped in between coughs.
'No…no.' Moriarty came towards him and crouched by where John sat. 'You and I are going to teach Sherlock a lesson. You sit still, shut up, and let my men give you the drug. It's then your chance to try and make your little heart…' He put his hand on John's chest, 'last as long as it can.'
As soon as the video link from Moriarty shut off, Mycroft Holmes stepped out from behind Sherlock's laptop screen – out of view of the webcam.
'Excellent acting, dear brother.' He said. 'We'll have the location down to the square inch in less than twenty minutes.'
'I suppose there are uses to being a 'drama queen'' Sherlock replied distractedly.
'Well. Moriarty's played into our hands,' Mycroft drawled, taking the USB drive he'd just used to put a signal tracker into Sherlock's webcam out of his computer, 'I for one just hope John can last until we get there.'
'He's stronger than you give him credit for.' Sherlock muttered, closing the lid of his MacBook.
'You've changed.'
'So have you, what is it… three pounds you've put on since we last met?'
Mycroft sniffed and straightened his suit.
'Two and a half. I'm just warning you, getting attached isn't a good thing.'
'Me and John are not attached.' Sherlock growled.
'If you say so.' Mycroft checked his Rolex, 'we need to head off.'
author note,
sorry it's so short, I've been busy. More will come - and hopefully soon. Thanks for the support and reviews, they honestly make my day, and thank you for even reading this far!