A/N: When studying human nature, one thing is very clear. No one is just one or two dimensional. There are many parts that make us whole. Everyone possesses a light side and a dark side. A good, as it were, and a bad. The ability to be a hero or a villain, or to be both simultaneously. What determines which side is which is in the perception of the observer. So. A warning. As indicated in the previous chapter, there will be some violence in this chapter and the one following. I believe it is necessary for the story line and also to show the dark side of Sherlock's character. As for the level of graphic-ness, I will leave you to judge.

Chapter 14 – Dancing in the Dark

In which Lestrade breaks the rules, more or less, and Sherlock breaks Donny, rather more than less.

After Sherlock left the flat, John was feeling out of sorts. At loose ends. Lilly was resting so he thought perhaps he should put off making the tea for a bit. He paced the flat for a few minutes, then sat down and took a look at the newspaper to see what if anything he had missed while he had been away. It didn't make any sense to make the tea so soon after Lilly had retired to rest, but after an hour of waiting, John decided to start the tea anyway. If for no other reason than he wanted a cuppa himself.

While he waited for the kettle to boil, John searched around the kitchen for the bread. He had found the marmalade in the cupboard next to the mugs of all places, but now the bread was missing. Unless they were out of bread…He had also, much to his surprise and not a little embarrassment, found a pair of women's green silk knickers and a matching bra in separate evidence bags on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Some things, he decided, might be best not to think about. He was bent at the waist with his head in the cupboard under the sink when Lilly's voice coming from behind surprised him and he smacked the back of his head trying to stand upright.

"Hello, Dr. Wats –", Lilly covered her mouth with her hand, distressed at the dazed look on John's face as he rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, I am sorry! Are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?"

John squinted at the hand that Lilly was holding a bit too close to the front of his face, then reached out to move it back a bit, smiling ruefully, "Three, I'm fairly sure. I'm fine. But it's good to see you up and around. Are you hungry? I was just making some tea and toast. If I can find the bread…"

He was relieved to note that she was now wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns over the tee shirt. It reached the floor, but it covered her up nicely. He smiled as he watched her join the search for the bread. She seemed like a very nice girl. Polite, quiet, but helpful…and apparently an abduction victim. How could he have forgotten that? Maybe he should insist that she sit down? She seemed fine, but with a trauma like that, you just didn't know. Before he could ask her to sit, she was opening the refrigerator and holding out the eggs, a bit of cheese and what looked like some left over ham in his direction. At least he hoped it was ham. With Sherlock, you had to careful about assuming anything, and he had been gone two days.

"If you don't mind, Dr. Watson, I think I could use something more substantial than toast. Do you fancy an omelet? I don't get a chance to cook very much, but I do make a really good omelet."

"Please. Call me John. May I call you Lilly? Good. Now stop talking nonsense, Lilly. You sit, I'll make it." John reached over to take the food from her, but she backed up out of his reach, smiling slightly.

"Dr. Wats-, I mean, John, unless I misunderstood, you have been out of town for a few days. Why don't you take a minute to deal with your bags and such?" She nodded in the direction of the suitcase and laptop case that John had dropped by the door when he came in. "Really, I'm fine. I need to do something, if for no other reason than to take my mind off waiting for whatever it is I'm waiting for. Let me do this. Please?"

"Alright. I'll just be a minute. The pans are in the cupboard down there." He pointed to the cupboard on his way out of the room. "Call me if you need anything."

He was headed up to his room when he heard the doorbell. A quick glance at his watch told him it was about time that Molly should be getting there, so he jogged down the stairs and threw open the front door. "Greg? What are you doing here?"

"I've came to see Sherlock." A sheepish looking DI Lestrade stood on the front stoop. He looked nervously around and then at his feet for a bit. Then he seemed to make up his mind on something, and took a few steps into the foyer, brushing past John as he did so. "Just to check in, you know? Haven't seen 'im in few days…wondering what he's got up to. That's all really."

"He's not home, Greg. I honestly don't know where he is." John was trying to maneuver so he was in between Lestrade and the stairs to the flat, but Lestrade kept moving forward, and short of grabbing him and pulling him aside, John didn't see how he could stop him. Plus he was acting rather strange, like he was hiding something, which made John a bit nervous, as he was hiding something himself, in the form of a recently abducted, and officially still missing young lady. He really needed to get Lestrade out of here. "Did you try texting him?"

"Yeah. I did. He didn't answer." Lestrade half turned back toward John. "You know what he's like. So. I thought, as I was in the area…just stopping by like and seeing if he was around."

Just then there was a sound at the landing for the stairs leading up to the flat. "John where are the spatulas? Um, oh never mind."

It was a woman's voice, but that didn't register with Lestrade because when he looked up, he knew that was Sherlock's blue dressing gown that had just disappeared around the corner of the landing. "Not home. Right."

Lestrade started up the stairs, ignoring John's voice telling him to stop, to wait a second. Then he was around the doorway and glancing into the kitchen, where a very scared Lady Lillian Fairfax was looking back at him. He turned back to look down at John, growling. "Where in the hell is Sherlock and what in god's name is he doing with my missing person?"

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As Donny cleared the doorway, he turned with a sly grin only to be met by an incredibly strong hand grabbing his throat. Sherlock had a firm grip on Donny's throat with his right hand, and when the other man raised his right arm in defense, Sherlock used his left hand to block and then grip the wrist, twisting the entire arm, while he used his left leg to pull Donny's right leg out from under him. In less than three seconds, he had Donny face down on the pavement insuring his cooperation by bending his wrist back in a way it was not designed to bend.

It had become pretty clear to Donny by this time that this was no druggie looking for a fix. He managed to turn his head to let his cheek rest against the pavement so he could breathe. Sitting back on his heels next to Donny, Sherlock had released his throat, moving his right hand to apply pressure to the dealer's face, pressing his cheek into the ground, breaking skin and drawing blood. Donny opened his month to yell and the pain in his wrist got worse, which he didn't think was possible, but apparently, he was wrong.

"I would suggest that you do not struggle. It will only increase the pressure. Which will increase the pain. Too much pressure and…" Sherlock snapped his fingers once. His deep voice was quiet and controlled, yet managed to be low and menacing. He looked down at Donny with a fury that he was barely able to contain. Consumed by the thought of what this man had done to Lilly, a cold hard smile came to his face as he watched Donny flinch at the sharp sound of his fingers snapping. "If you cry out or in any way call attention to our little meeting here, I will be forced to increase that pressure. So, Mr. Thomas, what will it be? A nice friendly chat or a broken wrist? Though, actually, there is a third possibility. One in which they would be pulling your worthless corpse from the Thames. Should they ever find it."

Donny looked into the harsh face of the man, felt those icy blue eyes drilling a hole into his soul, and he believed. He swallowed hard, licked his lips and tried to speak normally, but couldn't without a stammer, "Cha-chat's go-good. I cou-could talk. Yeah. Whatever you want, mate. Just ease off."

Sherlock leaned back, taking his right hand off the side of Donny's head, and moving it to the back of his neck, which Donny didn't think was all that much of an improvement, but he wasn't about to argue with this nutter.

Sherlock leaned down and hissed in Donny's ear, "I want to know who hired you. I want a name."

"Hired me for what? I don't know what you're on about." Donny gasped as Sherlock applied a bit of pressure to his wrist. "Ok, mate, ok. Whatever you want. Just stop that, right?"

"The snatch yesterday. Who hired you? Who was behind it? Start talking, Mr. Thomas, and do not lie, because I will know if you do."

"Don't know. Honest." Donny squeezed his eyes shut anticipating more pain to his wrist. When it didn't come, he risked opening them and looking up at Sherlock, who was staring off at the wall on the other side of the alley. Encouraged by lack of expected pain, he continued, "I got a text. Shopping the job, like. If I were interested, I was to pick up a bag with the rest of the instructions. So I went and it was there, just like the text had said. I took it, and once I was alone, opened it."

"What was in the bag?"

"There was a list of instructions, real detailed too, with one of them disposable mobiles, and some other stuff. A uniform like that driver was wearing, and the money, like was promised. I just did everything like it said to do in the instructions. I never talked directly to anyone. Honest. You have to believe me. It was just through texts." While he was talking, Donny was trying to figure out who this bloke was. He wasn't like any copper he'd run into before, and didn't seem too concerned about 'cautioning' him about his rights. A dirty one then? Some kind of independent vigilante? "Do you think maybe you could let me up, mate? This is damned uncomfortable."

"Not just yet, Mr. Thomas. We have more to discuss." Sherlock calculated that he had approximately two minutes more before they were likely to be interrupted. By that time, he had to have Donny completely under his control, and then they could move to a place more conducive for the remainder of this interview. "Do you comprehend, Mr. Thomas that I require information you possess? Do you also appreciate that there are great lengths that I am prepared to go to get this information? Do you grasp the fact that if you cooperate with me in this it may end well for you? Alternately if you do not, that it will most definitely not end well for you? Do you realize that I am acquainted with where you live, I am familiar with where you prefer to spend your leisure time, and further that I have knowledge of whom your known associates are. I could go on, but I am quite sure you are getting my meaning, Mr. Thomas. You cannot run from me. You cannot hide. I will find you."

As Sherlock had been speaking, he watched Donny's face pale a bit more with each nod, until it was quite white and looking rather queasy. So to ensure the point was made, he gave the wrist a little squeeze. Donny's eye bugged slightly as he answered, "I get it, okay, I get it. I won't run. I swear on my mum's grave."

"Your mother is not deceased, Mr. Thomas. But I will accept your promise none the less. Please bear in mind that I do also know where your mother resides." Sherlock flashed a charmingly evil grin at Donny. He had no idea where Mrs. Thomas lived, but naturally, Donny didn't know that, and it would not be difficult to find out if necessary. Still, this was becoming mind-numbingly dull. Time to move things along.

Sherlock released Donny's wrist and stood upright, prepared for any attack that the man might make, though he was quite sure the precaution was unnecessary, as the man was in fact quite frightened of him. Delightful. Once he retrieved any helpful data from the man, he would be sure to leave him with a vivid reminder that it was not nice to hurt young ladies, in general or Lady Lilly in particular. At this thought the fury he had been keeping at bay flared in his eyes for a moment before he tamped it down again. But Donny saw it and flinched.

Once Donny was on his feet, Sherlock turned and started down the alleyway towards the street. Donny stood watching him, wondering if he should try to make a break for it, when Sherlock's voice cut across the distance, "I would not, if I were you, who, thank god I am not. This way, Mr. Thomas. Do try to keep up."

Following the two finger 'come along' gesture, Donny sighed, hoping that this all did 'end well'.

A/N: I had a terrible time separating this chapter down to a manageable size, so the next chapter is a continuation of this one, and lucky you, it's mostly done, and I will be posting it soon. Just want to thank the people who reviewed chapter 13: Kathyrne Buzolic and Scarlett. You people make me smile! And hey, there are now MORE reviews than chapters! Yay!

Also wanted to thank you amazing followers of this story. If you are just joining us, or have been along for the ride from the beginning, I write to share it with you, and knowing you are out there, waiting, gives me that little pressure to get writing.

If you love it, review it! If you hate it, review it anyway! - RS