"I d-d-did i-it," John sobbed, clutching at the man's legs, "I d-d-did i-i-it! I d-did wh-what y-you s-said!"

"Good John," the man purred, petting the top of John's head, "You are a good, good pet."

John whimpered and sobbed harder.

"Y-you s-said y-you'd luh-leave h-him a-alone," John wailed, "Y-you w-will, w-won't y-you?"

"Oh, John," the man bent to whisper in his ear, "I've done what I came to do. My purpose was to take him down a notch and now he's been taken to the lowest. He might as well be dead now. You've done excellently, my pet."

John let out a strangled yelp as he realized what he had really done. I had to, I had to. Moriarty said he would kill him…the note said he would kill him…John collapsed from pain, sorrow, and the realization that he may have really broken Sherlock's heart. He tried to remember why he felt it so necessary to do what he had done. The note, the note, the note, his mind whimpered at him. he'd ben in class, when he had noticed it. He took it from his pocket and read it carefully, his heart suddenly beating wildly…

"My dear John,

If you wish for your lovely boyfriend to live, you will have to reject him. That's right, my pet. You will have to crush his heart, unless you want me to. Sometime today, I'm sure you will finally tell him what I did to you. Then he'll give you some long speech about how much he cares for you. Oh how disgustingly sweet it will be. And you will reject him. Then you will leave and find me. I will spare his life if you find me today.

Your master,

Jim Moriarty."

John remembered the way he'd panicked and tried to think of a million ways to stop it from happening. But he felt powerless. He knew Moriarty was strong and he was afraid that Sherlock could not match him, let alone best him. The thought of Sherlock dying sent chills of fear up and down his spine. So he complied. He spilled his guts to Sherlock and then rejected him, almost immediately sobbing as he blindly tried to find his way to Moriarty. And now here he was, clutching Moriarty and realizing his mistake. His only consolation was that Moriarty would not kill Sherlock.

"Oh John, sweetie," Moriarty hummed in his ear, "It's too late for regrets. What's done is done. You have me, that has to be a good consolation, doesn't it?"

John snarled at that and pushed himself away from Moriarty. He scrabbled away, trying to crawl to the door, when he felt a sudden yank around his throat. He let out a strangled cry as he fell backwards. His fingers flew to his neck. There was something hard around it. He tried to look down at it, to see what it was, but it was too tight to his neck.

"It's a collar, my pet," Moriarty smirked, "I couldn't have you running off after you came to your senses."

John gripped the hard leather and pulled at it. He knew it was in vain, but he tried anyway. He yanked at it until his fingers lost feeling and his neck seared in pain. Moriarty laughed at his foolishness, but made no move to stop him. Finally, John gave up, tears flowing down his face. Moriarty crouched next to him and petted his hair. John wanted to laugh at the irony of becoming a puppy for Sherlock, as Sherlock had done for him, but the instead all that came out was a choked cry.

"There, there, my sweet," Moriarty said in a soothing voice, "Let's go home, shall we?"

John quelled the fear and anger that bubbled inside him. It's too late, I've made the mistake and now I have to live with it. Moriarty stood swiftly and started toward the door, tugging on the leash that was attached to John's collar. John stood shakily and walked to Moriarty, who had halted by the door.

"Down, John," the vampire said coldly, "Pets do not stand on two legs."

John whimpered at the anger in the cold voice and dropped down on all fours. Moriarty's face cleared into a satisfied smirk. He then opened the door and tugged to have John follow him. John took no moment to gather his dignity for he felt he had none left. He simply crawled out to Moriarty and waited for him to move. Moriarty seemed incredibly satisfied with John's obedience and tugged him along. John tried to bring himself to worry that someone would see them, but he felt himself start to spiral into an abyss of apathy. He followed Moriarty like the obedient dog he now was, allowing his cares to be shed and left behind with every shuffle forward.

Outside, John had to crawl over asphalt that made his knees and hands hurt. He numbly acknowledged it, but did nothing to relieve it. Moriarty tugged him to a stop and opened a door. John looked up to see it was a car door. Moriarty leaned over him and patted him on the butt.

"Up you go, Johnny boy," Moriarty said in an amused voice.

John climbed into the car as best he could. Moriarty boosted him after a certain point. John crawled over to the other side of the car, which turned out to be a limousine. He sat on his legs, unsure of how exactly he was supposed to sit. Moriarty slid into the vehicle gracefully and closed the door.

"Drive," he stated toward the front of the car, before turning to John, "Come here, my pet. You're much too far away."

John crawled along the seat and stopped next to Moriarty who reached out and petted his hair. What will make him happy? John wondered. He dipped his head down and laid it on Moriarty's leg, as he had seen dogs do in the past. Moriarty chuckled in response.

"Very eager to please your master, are you?" he mused, "Good boy."

John felt a twinge of fear and regret, which we suppressed. Moriarty petted his hair softly and he found the gesture very soothing. He felt himself begin to drift off, as Moriarty whispered something. He was too far asleep to hear or care what he had said. Suddenly there was a jerk on his hair that had him howling. His eyes snapped open and he looked wildly around before realizing it was Moriarty's hand that had jerked his hair. He looked up with a whimper.

"I said, bark, John!" Moriarty snarled, viciously.

"Wh-wh-what?" John sputtered.

Moriarty's hand jerked harder and his other hand pulled back. John squeezed his eyes closed as the stinging blow landed on his cheek. John whimpered again, hating how much he was whimpering. Moriarty yanked again.

"I said, bark!" he growled.

John let his fear swell a bit, before crushing it back down. He swallowed hard and looked into Moriarty's dark eyes.

"Arf, arf!" He barked out, trying to sound as much like a dog as possible.

"Oh, yes," Moriarty relaxed his grip, "Good boy. Very good."

John let out a couple more tentative barks. Moriarty petted his hair gently once again. John started to lower his head again, but Moriarty put a hand under his chin.

"No, no, my sweet," he whispered.

John looked up with wide eyes. Moriarty put his hand on his pants and swiftly unzipped them. John whimpered in fear and realization. Moriarty quickly removed himself from his trousers and pushed down on John's head. Though he knew it was coming, he still felt the clenching in is stomach. He leaned in, opening his mouth. Moriarty let out a satisfied hiss as John lowered his mouth around him. John felt tears fill up in his eyes. He quickly blinked them away. This is how it is now. Remember what your father told you, John. Square off your shoulders. John felt Moriarty's hand press down on his head. I miss you, Sherlock, his mind whispered.

Little note: DO YOU HATE ME YET? I feel like you do...I feel like you should after two chapters like this. Anyway, thank you all for being patient and only throwing a few eggs at me! Love you all!