Hi again people! Pretty quick update for you, once again! Hope you enjoy this one, things are moving along, slowly but surely. BIG important chapter next time, this one is more setting the scene. Sherlock POV again this time too. And its all bit depressing. I think that, and I've written it! Some warnings for violence.

Thanks to all of my readers, especially my so awesome reviewers! I'd be lost without you guys, seriously!

Darmed: Hi Mary Jane! Great to hear from you again, it's been ages! Glad you're still enjoying me fic and keeping with me. Hope to hear from you again!

Munchiees: I did hope it would be a bit unexpected when Sherlock first called Moran by his proper title! And he is a complete bastard. I want to make him interesting though, esp the relationship between Moran and Moriarty... let me know what you think :) RDJ's Holmes... so much love for him. Cant wait for the sequel! :) And as for Twickenham, you are so lucky! Would have been very emotional for me, seeing the first performance of Shame. Thanks for all your support, I really appreciate it!

Mabaroshil6: Moriarty help John? Nope, not going to happen! Much more of that next chapter! :)

Grace: I promised it would be quick! Didn't keep you waiting to long for this one either! More soon! And more suffering for Sherlock :( I'm so mean. Hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know!

Alora05: Yay! Glad to hear from you! More from Mycroft very, very soon. Thanks so much for all of the support, I really appreciate it!

Yesterdays-lover: John hurt you say? All I can offer you is KEEP READING! :D

Kit-Kat-Angel: That's okay hun, just glad you have you back! Hope you enjoy this chapter! More about Moran this chapter, btw!

OddOneOot: Another Sherlock whumpage chapter here for you then babe! Enjoy! (Sorry, gotta get on! Longer response next time, promise! Loving your long reviews, as always!)

Smiles2go: Yep, I can promise you that John will absolutely be kicking serious arse very soon:)

Lee: I could be crueler. Really. :( Not that I'm proud, just giving you a bit of a warning there!) John will find him soon. In fact, I'll tell you now, John and Lestrade get to the "government facility" in two chapters time! So, not long to wait! :D

Aelfric's Cat: Thanks very much, so good to hear from you again. Missed you! No, not terrible to love Moriarty, he's so easy to love (and hate, obviously!) I'mm excited about the Mycroft stuffI'vee got planned (I keep dropping hints about that don't I! LOL! More coming very soon!

101spacemonkey: He really is. More to come soon!

Toggledog: Thanks for the latest review :) More shocking moments to come from Moran btw! And I think people are gonna be seriously effed off with Mycroft turns up again, but also very pleased to see him! You'll see what I mean! And thanks for the comments re Sherlock's character. I work so hard to keep him IC. All the characters to be fair, but esp Sherlock! Enjoy this chapter btw... its a bit of a set up...

Mustangwoman: Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed chapter nine. (Did you read chapter ten too btw?) Enjoy this one!

XmillieX: Bless Jim. I love writing him. He's awesome. Hope you think he's okay this chapter too! And no problems with rambling. Trying to write past midnight is... interesting... I should know ;) EST is not going to be fun... I'm not gonna enjoy writing that :( John and Lestrade are on their way. And could Mycroft be waiting in the wings? Could he? Hmmm...

TheGullibleOne: Nope, he won't... Will he? Hmmm... I hate Moran too, and I've kind of created him. This version of him anyway. Still, it's fun :) And where is Mycroft? What's he doing when all this happening? Hmmm...

Nova-Chan: I hope you'll like this chapter where the Moriarty and Moran stuff is concerned! I'm definitely going somewhere with that :) I know though, poor Sherlock... :( Enjoy this one...

JesstheGeek: Knew you'd be happy about the Sherlock POV! More of that here (Though its not too happy. More from John and Lestrade next time! You know, I adore writing Sherlock, he's just so much fun. All the characters are of course but Sherlock is special! Think you're gonna hate Moran even more after this one, btw!

I'm glad you thought Sherlock was perfectly in character at the start of that chapter. I worked hard on the dialogue, wanting to show how much Sherlock is fighting to stay with it, to stay in control! You know, I really am heading somewhere major with Moran and Moriarty, which becomes a little bit more clear in this chapter, though I am still keeping the waters muddy! There's a lot more to find out over the next couple of chapters! So glad you like the mystery, much more of that to come! I just wanted to say as well, thank you so much for all of your support. I really do appreciate your super long reviews and find them so helpful and interesting so you better keep them coming!

Okay, carrying on then! Enjoy!

Best Intentions

Helpless

Sherlock was lying back on his bed, his eyes once more fixed to the ceiling. A thousand thoughts were circling through his brain, nothing new for him but this time, he was having problems focusing on any of them. And he had no idea why. It was disconcerting for him. Ne needed to know, needed to be in control of the situation. Especially in a building where he was anything but in control. He was a prisoner, and it scared him. Despite his huge intellect, in that place, in that very moment, he was as good as clueless. And He didn't like the realisation of that one bit.

He closed his eyes, trying to disappear, and find himself somewhere else, somewhere happy.

But, as usual, his thoughts betrayed him.

Sherlock's musings turned back to Moriarty and Moran, against his own wishes. But what was the point thinking about anything else. Only the here and now was important.

John would tut and tell me to fill my mind with useless trivia. Maybe he would be right.

Despite his situation, Sherlock couldn't help but allow a small smile. John still had that effect on him.

The John effect.

A firm look spread across Sherlock's face. He knew what John would say to him right now.

Get a grip on yourself, Sherlock. Figure this out. And trust yourself. You have to believe in yourself, you don't have anything else left.

Sherlock pursed his lips together. No more doubts. He knew Moriarty had visited him earlier, it didn't matter what that idiot Moran's opinions were. Since when did Sherlock care about him anyway? The man must have been either lying, or stupid, and Sherlock wasn't really that bothered which option proved to be correct. Sherlock knew he hadn't imagined Jim. How do you imagine a man when you had very little imagination? Only facts mattered, and the fact of the matter was that the bastard had spoken to Sherlock, had actually touched him. It was no concern at all of Sherlock's what Moran said, did, or whatever he tried to do to convince his "patient" that he was losing his mind. Sherlock knew better than him. Moriarty had been there and, knowing Jim, eventually he would be back. And, thanks to Moran and his gormless "assistants," Sherlock would once again be at his mercy when that day came.

Moriarty could do whatever he wanted, and there was not one thing Sherlock could do to stop him.

Mycroft was, typically, no help whatsoever. He had stuck Sherlock is this Asylum hell-hole, and left him all alone to suffer. Mycroft had been happy to visit when Sherlock didn't want to see him, oh yes, but now, now that Sherlock could actually use his brother's help, he was conspicuous in his absence. Sherlock was certain that, despite Mycroft liking to act the complete opposite, his brother did actually have some adequate intelligence, when it suited him of course. If Sherlock could just explain to his brother, get hold of him and tell him the truth, then perhaps Sherlock could make him reconsider, make Mycroft see that all was not right here. A government facility where criminal masterminds could just walk in? Hospitals where Electric Shock Therapy was a normal method of treatment? A doctor who was entertained by hearing stories of rape victims? Mycroft could not have known what he was getting Sherlock into. Sherlock knew his brother was an obnoxious, arrogant, all-knowing pillock, but sadistic and cruel? No. He wouldn't do that. He would have respect, for their mother at least. Mycroft would believe him. He was clever, there was no question of that. The question that remained for Sherlock though was whether Mycroft would actually be able to care. His brother was behaving in such a manner that made him impossible to read. It was as if Sherlock was just an awkward, embarrassing secret, and he needed to be kept out of the way at all costs.

Sherlock pursed his lips together. It was a fair query, and one he would love to ask. Did Mycroft actually care in the slightest about his well fare? Clearly not, or he wouldn't have put him in a place like this one in the first place, at the mercy of an untrustworthy mad man like Moran.

And he wouldn't have kept the one man away who could actually help me.

John. Sherlock balled his hands in fists, flinching from the pain this caused thanks to his now to-tight restraints. John would have believed him. Of course he would. John was the one he needed, the one he could trust. If only he could get a message to him, somehow. He considered the way Moriarty had taunted him with news of John, how the bastard was even receiving texts from Sherlock's friends. Whether true or not, the thought made Sherlock's insides churn. He knew what Moriarty's plan would be, it didn't take too much deducing. Jim knew harming John was the easiest way to get to Sherlock, and Sherlock was very aware that he would take great pleasure in hurting John, even killing him, and then telling him exactly what had happened. And what could Sherlock do about it? Just lie there, on that bed, and listen as Moriarty mocked him with all the gruesome details.

What good was Sherlock now?

He couldn't help John, but maybe John could help himself.

Moriarty underestimates John. He doesn't know him. He will learn.

I have faith in John.

At that moment, light flooded the room, causing Sherlock to blink in discomfort.

What now?

Then, the door suddenly flew open, and Moran entered, striding determinedly up to Sherlock's bed. Sherlock instantly pulled at his restraints, irritated by his own inability to defend himself. Moran smiled down at him pompously, and Sherlock glared back, holding his doctor's gaze. Sherlock eyes fixated on Moran's left hand then, or, more importantly, on the needle the man was clutching. Sherlock felt the panic coursing through him and when he saw the smile increasing on Moran's face, he knew his own expression had betrayed that fear. As Moran leaned over him, Sherlock began to struggle futility, and screaming for help, though he knew there was no one who would come to his aid. He heard Moran barking an order and suddenly Michael came into his field of vision, placing a sweaty hand over Sherlock's mouth, stifling his cry.

Sherlock could only lay there, breathing heavily, gazing up at Moran, a silent plea in his large eyes.

Moran smiled. "This is for your own good, Mister Holmes," Moran told him and then, with no further warning, he plunged the needle into Sherlock's arm and injected heaven-knew-what into his arm. The pain was sudden and, due to the largeness of the needle, agonising. Sherlock cried out, and bit down on Michael's hand in his shock. Michael swore and pulled his now bloodied hand away. He stared at Sherlock with obvious fury, and then raised his hand and struck the helpless man hard across the face. Sherlock grimaced from the blow and then fixed the angry thug with an unwavering glare.

If only looks really could kill.

Another voice suddenly spoke up, as if from nowhere. It sounded chilling, so angry and spiteful.

"Don't touch him again!"

Sherlock froze.

There was no doubting that voice.

Sherlock strained to look past Moran. It was a difficult goal as, not only was he still hardly able to move, his vision was also becoming increasingly cloudy.

Moriarty was still speaking to Michael, and he was not in the least bit happy.

"In case you missed that, you don't get to lay a finger on him ever again. You have no right, a nobody such as you. Do you understand me?"

Michael, though, didn't even react. It was as if he was ignoring Moriarty. He just continued to glower back at Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked, trying to clear his own sight.

"What's going on?" He blurted out. "Tell me!"

Moriarty moved forward, hands deep in his pockets, sauntering toward Sherlock.

Sherlock couldn't hold back a moment longer. Addressing Moran, the restrained man snapped, desperation in his tone; "Moriarty is right there! Look! Can't you hear him?" He tugged on the straps, willing them to come free. "Look man!"

Moran gave Sherlock a look of disdain, and then glanced behind him. He looked right through Moriarty, as if the man wasn't there. Sherlock stared, dread gripping him.

"I don't understand," Sherlock muttered, trying to clear his head. What was happening to him? "How can you not see him?" Sherlock tried again, more softly.

Moriarty laughed. Sherlock felt sick.

Still, Moran did not react. No one did. They acted as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

And Sherlock's panic was growing by the second.

He flinched when Moran put a "calming" hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock, I promise you that there is no one there. I need you to believe me. You are merely disorientated by the injection have given you."

"What did you give me?" Sherlock enquired quickly. He was having problems keeping his eyes open. Moran sounded so far away now.

It was such a struggle to concentrate, Sherlock had to strain his ears to pick up the doctor's next words. "Merely something to help you rest, Sherlock. I've given you the same drug numerous times since you arrived here. It will make you feel better. You must not distress yourself. Nothing is going to hurt you." His tone was soothing. Sherlock was fading fast. "Sleep now. We will talk again in the morning."

Sherlock was heading for the darkness. There was nothing he could do.

He forced himself to look beyond Moran one last time.

Moriarty smiled at him, and waved.

Sherlock let out a small whimper. Was Moran telling the truth. Was Moriarty really not there? Was Moran lying? Why would he lie?

Why can't I see the answer?

Moran and Michael were so far away now. Sherlock was going away. The light was fading.

Why can't I deduce? Why can't I THINK? What's wrong with me?

Sherlock opened his eyes again. And moaned. Moran had disappeared and Moriarty was there now, leaning right over Sherlock, his face mere feet away from Sherlock's.

And, he was smirking.

Moriarty grabbed Sherlock's chin and forced him to keep looking at him, helping him to focus. Sherlock couldn't look away. "I'm real." Jim hissed. "You know I'm real, don't you, my dear? Trust your instincts. You are mine, you belong to me. The quicker you realise that, the better. You want to leave here, Sherlock? You know what you have to do, right?"

Sherlock tried to shake his head but he couldn't move.

He couldn't see Moriarty any more.

He had lost the battle. A moment later, he was lost in heavy, drug induced, sleep.

XXX

Moriarty clasped his hands together. "Very good," he announced, and then leaned closer, kissing Sherlock's forehead gently. "Sweet dreams, my love."

Moriarty whirled round, all pretence gone, and immediately made eye contact with Michael.

"Very nicely done," he told the other man. "Nice slap."

Michael smiled and nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Sir."

Moran edged closer. "Join me in my office, Jim? We don't know how deeply he truly is sleeping, after all."

Moriarty shrugged. "Lead the way, Sebastian."

He gave the still form of Sherlock one last glance, smiled gently, and then exited the room quickly, Moran and Michael right behind him. Sebastian gestured to Michael to stay by the door and the other man hurried to move into position. Then, with a knowing look, Moriarty moved ahead of Moran, and walked thought the open door leading to the Colonels office.

Moran closed the door once he had entered behind Moriarty, and then gestured towards a chair. Jim shook his head.

"I can't stop, Sebastian," he told him. "I have an appointment with another doctor."

Moran smiled. "How do you feel we are progressing so far? Are you happy?"

Moriarty chuckled. "Oh yes. All going to plan." He shot Moran a knowing look. "See that things continue moving in the same direction, Sebastian."

Moran seemed to hesitate for a second. "I was wondering," he began, cautiously; "should we be trying to persuade Sherlock that he imagined you? Will that have a undesired effect on the end game? We do after all need Sherlock to believe that what he is seeing is the truth."

Moriarty didn't speak at once. Moran frowned, and glanced down at his feet. "Please don't think I'm doubting your instructions, Jim."

"Oh Sebastian," Moriarty chuckled, with one amused shake of his head. "If I thought that, I'd have given the order for you to be shot through that window by now."

Moran looked up sharply.

Moriarty threw back his head and laughed.

The doctor's lips twitched.

"Just my little joke," Moriarty told him.

Moran smiled darkly. "Very amusing, Sir."

Moriarty stepped closer. "You don't know Sherlock like I do, Sebbie." Jim told him, "We need him confused, we need him to doubt himself. His intelligence almost matches my own, he will work everything out if we give him a half a chance. Keep him muddled, and this might just work."

Moran nodded. "The drug was only in the experimental stages when I stole it. I have no idea what side effects he could suffer, whether the hallucinations will even convince him."

Moriarty held up a hand, silencing the other man. "I have faith in you, my friend. And the drug you brought to me. The animals we tested it on before Sherlock fell into our hands, their reactions were shocking, horrific and incredibly entertaining." His eyes were shining, as his voice went up an octave in his excitement. "I can't wait to see what will happen with Sherlock." He glanced at his watch. "And look at the time! Dear me! I have to go right now. Just be ready for my text, my dear."

Sebastian inclined his head. "Everything will be prepared. One treatment should speed up the effects of the drug. Especially as the drug has been being injected for over seven days now." He smiled nastily. "The great Sherlock Holmes is about to get the shock off his life."

Moriarty smirked. "I look forward to it." He moved to the door. "Wait to hear from me. And keep an eye on Sherlock for me."

And then, Moriarty sauntered out of the door.

Moran stared at the closed door for a moment, let out a loud sigh and then covered his face with his hands. He spent a couple of moments to collect his thoughts, then got carefully to his feet, pulled open the door, and left the room.

He walked down the corridor, making his way back to Sherlock's room. He waved his hand at Michael, who looked at him curiously, then stepped away from the door, obeying orders with question, exactly as he was paid to do. Moran unlocked the door and walked it, closing it behind him.

He gazed down on the sleeping Sherlock, turning his head to one side and regarding the other man with something akin to jealousy. He moved closer, tiptoeing across the room, and then placed his hands around Sherlock's throat, and began to squeeze.

Sherlock, though didn't awaken, began to struggle and wriggle in his sleep, and as Moran tightened his grip, the defenceless man began to wheeze, and his skin paled to a blueish colour.

Moran, teeth gritted, leaned in. "What's so special about you?" He hissed. "Why is he even bothering?"

He kept up the pressure for a two seconds longer, than released his hold.

"No," he whispered, in Sherlock's ear. "That would be far to quick and ending for you. I want to watch you suffer first, Mister Holmes."

He stepped away from Sherlock, who was already beginning to breath more easily.

Moran walked to the door and opened it, not even giving Sherlock a backwards glance.

Sherlock slept on, unaware of how close he had just come to death. Or what horrors were waiting for him just around the corner.

Colonel Moran had never felt power liked it. He loved it.

And that was what Moriarty had promised him. And he was delivering.

Moran nodded to Michael, who was looking him up and down.

"Everything okay?" He enquired and Moran smiled.

"Peachy," he replied. He smiled. "Make sure everything is prepared in the operating room, we don't want to keep Mister Moriarty waiting, when the time comes."

"Yes Sir," Michael replied, and then hurried away, leaving Moran to gaze after him.

"I want this to be memorable for us all," Moran mumbled, more to himself, and with one last glance towards Sherlock's door, a dark smile spread across his sneering face.

"I can't wait."

TBC