Why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend.
I don't have "friends!"
No. Wonder why?
I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.
This is my friend, John Watson.
Friend?
Colleague.
There are lives at stake, Sherlock! Actual human live— Just, just so I know, do you care about that at all?
Will caring about them help save them?
Nope!
Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.
"No." The boy gasped images and phrases choking, squeezing, and constricting his very being. He could not breath, could not move, could barely think as previous emotions and thoughts overtook him.
Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.
"No, please no." Sherlock could feel wind pushing the curls against his brow. The sounds of London wafted up towards him, but the boy kept his eyes pinched shut. A feeling of dread had been pooling in his belly for what felt like an eternity.
Where was he? How had he gotten here? Everything was all jumbled up in his head. He was a child lost and frightened, and yet, and yet he was also Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective, a man apart from the rest, a man who needed no one.
Sherlock scrunched his forehead in concentration as tears began to leak down his cheeks. All the while his mantra of no and please continued to mix with into the whistle of the wind.
"Oh yes, yes, yes." A voice lilted against the boy's ear.
Sherlock's eyes flew open as hands gripped his shoulders and spun him around. "Oh, come now Shirley." The owner of the voice cooed. "No need for tears. Uncle Jim's got you now." Brown eyes swept hungrily over the boy caged in the man's arms, gleaming as the spider considered how to devour its pray, and suddenly the child knew.
"Moriarty." Sherlock gasped.
"Ah, good you've finally figured it out." A predatory smile split the monster's mask, crumpling the welcoming veneer which had only just veiled its monstrosity. "I can't tell you how badly it hurt that you didn't remember me." The criminal's fingers dug deep into Sherlock's arms as he stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout. "Why it must have been so hard on you, a bit like losing your right hand I imagine, but it's okay," The serpent rubbed its head into Sherlock's curls inhaling deeply, claiming its prize as he hissed, "I've got you now."
'Let me go!" Sherlock struggled, trying to keep the fear and panic out of his voice. He had to get away… he had to find…
"JOHN!" Sherlock gasped through his tears. Struggling was only causing the crushing clutch to close around him tighter, but he had to try. He had to fight.
A chuckle arose from the chest pressed tightly to the boy's back. It quickly twisted into something manic making Sherlock's skin crawl and the hair at the base of his neck to straighten.
"You think Johnny boy can save you?! Oh Shirley I adore you like this! So innocent and pocket sized." The criminal somehow tightened his already crushing hold causing Sherlock's ribs to creak. "Why I could just eat you up." Moriarty growled through his teeth, forcing a gurgled sob out of the boy. "You must know of course that your little pet couldn't save you, even if he wanted to."
XXX
"Sh…sh….sh," John hushed despite the lack of sound coming from the child. "Come on Sherlock, you're going to be alright." John turned back to his phone to up the volume of the concerto before continuing his round of the room. "You have to be alright."
"Doctor Watson?" John spun towards the door to find a Mycroft's assistant standing in the entranceway. The usually impertinent woman cringed at the disturbance of her voice in the room.
"Is Mycroft awake then?" John turned away from the door. He had not seen Anthea or whatever she was calling herself since they had arrived at this facility and he was not in the mood to deal with her right now.
"Not yet, although the doctors think he'll be awake soon." She came into the room passing John a bottle of water. "We're two down; best not lose you to dehydration."
John reluctantly laid his best friend on the bed and accepted the water, downing it in one go before bringing his hands up to scrub is face.
"I must have scared the staff off pretty well if they're sending you in." It was meant as a joke, but the doctor could not find the proper inflection, causing it to come across flat.
"They're cowering around the corner. You should have seen the way they looked at me when I came down," she chuckled dryly, "I don't think they're expecting me to come back." Anthea came farther into the room, straining her neck to look at the youngest Holmes. "I assume it's not going well then." She dropped the back of her hand lightly onto the boy's forehead, noting the clamminess before letting it drift down to his pale cheek.
John silently contemplated his now empty bottle in response.
"My sister has a gaggle of these things, children I mean. Even my brother has one, or is it two now? Either way Mum keeps hinting that I should have some soon, not getting any younger. God I hate them."
John's head shot up. He felt the sudden urge to push this woman away from Sherlock. Anthea smirked, sensing the stir in the air.
"It's nothing personal, she explained, "I can put on a smile and deal with the hugs and I've been told I give the bests gifts, but I cannot stand to be around them too long. They're so… needy."
"Well I suppose you've made good life choices then." John murmured, pulling Sherlock into his arms once more.
"Yes," Anthea agreed, "I suppose I have." She smiled using her hand to push the boy's head onto John's shoulder. "And so have you."
She disappeared out the door and around the corner, the clicking of her heels causing John to hold his friend all the tighter.
XXX
"You see my dear little detective. John could never understand, could never know what you truly are. What you could possibly need." The mad man stood up, twirling around with a dancing bounce in his step. "But then no one ever could. Not Mummy or Daddy or even big brother…"
Sherlock watched the skyline of London spin around him as Moriarty's arms pressed tightly under his ribs.
"They don't understand you, and how could they? Boring. All of them." The besuited man stopped spinning as he roughly turned the boy to face him. "You must remember by now," the manic brown eyes bore into Sherlock's. "You and I little one, we're cut from the same cloth. See?"
Moriarty spun him so Sherlock was again facing outward as he folded his own legs like an excited child waiting for a story to begin.
"This is my favorite part." Moriarty whispered into Sherlock's ear.
Before their audience stood a man Sherlock knew as himself and the monster who currently held him.
"Oh, you think you can make me stop the order?" They memory of Moriarty sneered. "You think you can make me do that?"
"Yes." Sherlock watched himself smirk. "So do you."
"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."
"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."
"Nah," the mad man shook his head. "You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."
"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."
"There it was," Sherlock could hear a smirk oozing into the man's voice. "That was the moment you stole my heart Sherlock Holmes, the moment you admitted it not just to me, but to yourself. Oh, it was glorious."
"No. You're not. I see. You're not ordinary." Sherlock watched something like strangled joy slide across the shorter man's face. Something was wrong. Sherlock was not sure if he was feeling it himself or if the emotion was leaking from the him in the memory, but something was about to happen.
" No. You're me. You're me. Thank you. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you. Bless you." The two men clasped hands and dissipated into the ether.
"You see Sherlock. You said it yourself. We're meant to be together."
"No." Sherlock strained, fighting against the hold of the man and the growing tightness in his chest. It was not like the other sensations he had felt once he had entered his mind palace. This tension, this agony was deeper. It consumed him until it was hard to think, hard to breath.
"John," the boy rasped. "John help. Please."
"Still going on for your John then? Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock." Moriarty clucked. "You're going to have to let go of him. No John where you're going, not this time."
Moriarty had been swinging him back and forth like a rag doll and Sherlock ad learned to stop fighting the movements. The more he struggled, the more he tightened his muscles, the greater the pain why he was swung back the other way. He did not have the energy for it anymore.
Moriarty was murmuring excitedly, but had finally stopped his jerky dance to instead sway in the breeze. Sherlock watched the horizon with strained breath. Strange, the sky was going out, like lights in a warehouse. Sherlock had been in a warehouse before… he was sure of it, but then it didn't seem important. Not anymore.
Another block of sky darkened, and then another, casting the city below it in shadows. The sounds were starting to quiet too, the honking of cars and din of people dying away.
Dying.
XXX
"Sherlock. Lock come on. Please."
John checked the boy's pulse, a moot move considering the boy's pulse was visible in thrum of his veins. His breaths were coming out in gasps, wracking the small body with each inhale and exhale.
"Damn it." John mumbled. He began digging through the drawers and cabinets in the room. There had to be something, anything to slow down Sherlock's heart. His legs felt like liquid and his entire body shook violently.
Nothing. There was nothing but saline bags.
"DAMN IT!" John roared. He spun around angrily, but as had been true for hours now he found himself and Sherlock alone.
The boy gasped once more. It was weak and tired. The sound a body made when it was coming towards its end. John had heard that sound before, it haunted his dreams. John did not spare another thought before hurdling them both down the hall.
XXX
"You are such a tease you know." Moriarty had sat on the edge of the roof letting his and Sherlock's legs dangle off the edge. His chin resting snugly atop the boy's crown of curls.
"This isn't the first time we've been here. You and me."
Sherlock grumbled. He wanted to do more. To pull away from the man holding him, but moving was difficult. Instead he watched the city below him as it fell into shadow and silence. Each block going out one by one.
"Last time was close. SOOOOOoooo close, but you left me in here. All alone. Not to worry though. I've got you this time Shirley." He hugged the boy tighter for emphasis, kicking his legs with glee. "And I'm never, ever letting you go."
XXX
"Sir. Sir, you can't be here."
John stormed passed the nurse without a thought. He turned one corner and then the next. Staff stood to the side as he continued his search, the gasping huffs of air only spurring him forward. Finally his eyes fell on the person he was searching for.
"Doctor Watson," Stapleton breathed obviously taken aback by his presence.
"A sedative," John growled. "Now."
"Doctor Watson. I understand your concern, but let me remind you-."
"No." John seethed, his entire body vibrating with barely contained anger. "I don't care what you have to say, or what you're research says. This is my best friend and I will not have him dying," John stumbled on the word. He had not allowed himself to consider the possibility until right then, but he could very well be losing Sherlock. "I will not just stand by while he suffers." John cleared his throat. "A sedative now."
Stapleton stared at him for a moment before turning her head. "Jacob? Get a sedative for Doctor Watson. Stat."
A young man scurried away. John watched him go, shocked to see his request met. A hand landed on his arm causing John to jump. Anthea stood next to him, her lips were moving but John could not make out her words over the sudden ringing in his ears. She continued to talk, unaware of the sound encompassing the solider. The man, Jacob, returned sedative in hand. He approached the two and began fussing with Sherlock, but instead of administering the medication, the syringe fell limp at his side.
"What are you doing?" John stammered. Give him the sedative.
"John." Anthea was saying.
"No. Just a moment. Give him the sedative he needs it…"
"John."
"What?!" The doctor yelled.
"He isn't breathing."
John froze. He could feel the small body warm against him, but its chest was no longer rising.
"Nonononono." John breathed dropping down to his knees and pulling the child away from him. "Sherlock? Sherlock! Come on mate!" He laid the body upon the linoleum floor, dropping his ear to Sherlock's face as his fingers found a pulse point. He counted five seconds. The longest five seconds of his life, as he waited for soft gusts of breaths that never came. A pulse was there but, just almost. It was nearly too soft for John's practiced hands to find.
John started giving chest compressions. He could not be sure when Sherlock had stopped breathing, but he knew that to keep brain damage at a minimum he had to act quickly.
John began barking orders. Vaguely he was aware of the movement around him, of people following his commands, but that was all on the peripheries. He focus was all on the boy before him, the boy to whom he was caregiver and best friend, the boy who may never open his eyes again.
"Come on Sherlock." John Choked as he reached thirty chest compressions and went down to deliver two rescue breaths. "Breathe."
XXX
Sherlock opened his eyes. He must have closed them, but when? He blinked to clear his eyes, bringing up his hands to rub at them when blinking did not do the job.
He sat up, only to have his head investigated by a wet nose. Sherlock turned towards the source to bury his head into a red fur coat.
"Ah good, you're up." A deep baritone rumbled. It bounced off the walls and at the sound Red Beard ran toward to source, tail wagging happily.
Sherlock watched in shock as a tall figure bowed to rub the dog, his face blocked by a mess of dark curl, but Sherlock knew him instantly.
"You're…you're me." The boy rasped as he stood upon his shaking legs.
"Yes. Been meaning to talk to you for a bit, but I got a little distracted on the way. Apologies for that."
The man crossed the hall in three easy gates stopping inches before the boy so he had to crane his neck to see the other's face.
"Sherlock Holmes." The man grinned causing a twinkle to appear in his eye. He extended his hand and waited until Sherlock took it in his own before giving it a firm shake. "Pleasure to meet you."