What was John supposed to do as a "favor" for Moriarty? He needed to ask Sebastian if he had any good ideas, because as far as John knew, the only things Moriarty liked involved massive amounts of pain and humiliation for either John or Sebastian. He wanted to avoid this.

Sebastian was sleeping though, so John set about his daily chores, racking his brain. He still came up blank though, so when he made lunch, and brought it up to Sebastian, he left a little note on the napkin. Hopefully, Sebastian would see it. It asked if he had any ideas and that if he did, that he should take a shower and then write it on the mirror when it steamed up. John was actually rather proud of this secret way of communication, and thought that they could maybe even use it for other things as well. All he would have to do is steam up the bathroom himself, read the message, and then wipe off the mirror.

Sebastian got the note and thought it over. He finally hauled himself up to take a shower, then wrote on the mirror, "Dress up, cook dinner, make it a date. His ego is huge. Stroke it." He looked it over. It wasn't the best advice he could give, and at this point in the game he doubted Jim would believe it if John sucked up to him, but John might play the Stockholm Syndrome card. It was worth a shot.

A few hours later, when John had time for a small break, he went up to his room, snuck past the sleeping Sebastian and went into his bathroom to take a shower. He turned it really hot, just to steam up the room, and climbed in. He bathed quickly, then got out to read the mirror. He didn't like the thought much, but Sebastian was probably right. He wiped down the mirror, went out to his room and quietly got dressed. After that, he went downstairs to see if he could figure out something extravagant for Jim for dinner, and to finish cleaning the vents.

Jim got absorbed in his work, typing off emails, charting current loyalties, making threats where need be, coordinating bank vault numbers and getting contacts of security guards to bribe or scare. Once evening hit, he smelled something cooking in the kitchen and came out to investigate, stretching. "What did you fix for dinner, Johnny?" he asked.

John turned around and glanced at Jim. He had ended up having some fresh, tender, venison steaks sent over. He knew Jim liked them—he'd overheard him talking to a client on the phone and was gushing over them a few weeks ago, so he'd had them brought over special. "Venison steak, master, with sides of grilled asparagus, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a Ceasar salad." John wasn't wearing his suit, but he was dressed up a bit nicer than usual; his standard of dress had lowered considerably since his imprisonment. "I...I thought we could have dinner together...?" he asked hesitantly.

"Awww, Johnny...my favorite, how'd you know?" He leaned over to John and grabbed his chin to kiss him. "Yes, sounds perfect. You and me. Dinner." He ran his fingers over John's hair, which he'd combed back. "You look good, pet."

John cleared his throat and gave a tight smile. 'You like it medium rare, right?' he asked.

"Quite right," Jim said, sitting down and pouring himself some wine. "Just what I needed. Croatia was stressful. This is a welcome sight..."

John gave a genuine, small smile then. Good, he thought to himself. At least for once he'd done something right. He'd have to thank Sebastian later. John walked over and lit two candles, then began to dish out the food. "What was wrong with Croatia, master?" he asked.

"It's all right, you don't have to pretend you're interesting in my work. It's horrifying to you, isn't it? You're bogged down with those...moral things," Jim grumbled. "'No! Stop! I love him!'" He mocked John's voice. "Who puts their lives in front of someone else's? It makes no sense, it's not logical! No, John, you don't want to hear about Croatia. It'd upset your pretty little heart."

John blushed a bit and looked away when Jim mocked him. "I actually was curious, master. But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he mumbled, then quietly sank into his seat and took a small sip of water, then began to eat, not looking up at Jim.

"You're curious? Why?" Jim asked, raising an eyebrow as he cut into his venison.

John shrugged a shoulder, still looking down. "I guess I just want to know something, anything that's going on outside of your house," he mumbled, then glanced up. "Can I get you anything else, master?"

"This'll do, John. Sit down and eat," Jim commanded. "I suppose it must get tiring just working around here, although I don't imagine Sherlock gave you much stimulation either. He let you trail behind him on his cases, I suppose. What would give you stimulation, John?"

John glanced up again before starting to cut into his steak. 'I don't know, master...perhaps getting out of the house...I miss surgery, I miss cases with Sherlock. I miss my blog. I miss having internet access, watching crap telly and reading biased newspapers…" He trailed off and took a large bite of steak.

Jim rolled his eyes. "We can get you crap telly, John, no problem. And a newspaper. And books. I doubt anything in my library would interest you, but I can send away for other things. You have been working hard at your chores, Johnny, and I appreciate it. You're close to proving yourself worthy of such luxuries. But..." he stopped to take a bite of asparagus. "I'm concerned, John, that this...love you have for Sebastian will lead you to do something idiotic."

John's heart lightened when Jim spoke about getting him a television and a newspaper and books—he was nearly over the moon, but he was taken aback when he mentioned Sebastian. "Idiotic? Like what? How do you mean, master?"

"Well, John, you've already proved that you'd put yourself in harm's way to ease his suffering, even though you know he doesn't feel the same way. That proves to me that your loyalties are with him, not with me. How am I ever to trust you?" he asked lightly.

"I...but...you should be glad that I wanted to protect him!" John blurted. Shit. Think.

Jim grinned and laughed out loud. "Glad that you wanted to protect him...from me? Explain to me how that works, Johnny, because I fail to see the logic." He was laughing so hard that his shoulders were shaking. It all ended abruptly, however, and the next instant he was staring at John with dark eyes. "Are you fucking SERIOUS? You'd DIE for that man, and he thinks you're scum! I should just eviscerate you now and have your idiocy cleansed from my house!" He turned his attention back to his steak, and said lightly, "Care to rephrase your answer, Johnny?"

John shrunk away from him, then sat upright. "I...no,' he said. "If I hadn't intervened, he could've bled out during the night, or his wounds would have gotten infected. He could have laid out and died! You should be thankful that I didn't want anything to happen to him because you and I both know that he's your most valuable employee! If he had died, you would never have found someone as good and efficient as him! You could've killed your biggest asset last night and because I love him, I SAVED HIM!' John retorted, his voice growing louder with each word. "You should THANK me that I saved you from doing something stupid!" he yelled. He glared at Jim for a moment before he suddenly realized what he had done. Fear and panic bubbled up in him and he looked down at his plate, dropping his head. "I...I'm sorry, master, I didn't mean...I ...I'm sorry, you're right," he stuttered quietly.

Jim's lip twitched and he stood up. "Come here," he said, his voice low.

John was trying desperately not to shake furiously, but was failing miserably. 'Y-yes, sir," he said quietly, moving over to stand next to Jim, his eys on the ground.

"Did you just fucking call me 'sir'?" Jim asked, his voice so light and low that John wouldn't have heard it if he'd been standing a few steps farther back.

"Master—master, I'm sorry—" John choked out, terrified. His whole plan was backfiring.

Jim grabbed John by the throat, squeezing it tightly. The other hand grabbed a fistful of John's hair yanking his head back so he felt the full force of Jim's choking grip. "Listen very carefully, Johnny," he said softly, staring into John's eyes. "You fucked up. Royally. You will no longer talk to Sebastian, ever. If he asks you a question that you cannot answer with a nod or a shake of your head, you will ask me for permission to speak. If I am not around, you will wait. You will not touch Sebastian unless I give you permission to." He tightened his grip even more on John's throat, watching him calmly as he began to grow weak in his hands. "You are not a human being, John Watson, you are a thing, and I own you. You can be a happy thing with a comfortable life, but so far you've dug out a rather miserable existence for yourself."

John struggled to take in a breath, his hands going up to try and pull Jim's hand away. He couldn't even talk to Sebastian now? Couldn't touch him? John's heart sank and his vision started to get dark around the edges, his fighting starting to grow weaker.

When John passed out, Jim caught the limp man and dragged him upstairs to his bedroom and stripped off his clothes. He trussed John up so that when John awoke, his arms were bound behind his head and fastened securely to the headboard. His ankles were tied with long ropes to the bedposts on either side of his shoulders, keeping his legs bent up toward his chest and wide apart from each other, making his cock and arse vulnerable.

When John woke, his back ached and he felt exposed and humiliated. He tried to move his legs, but they were bent up and wouldn't budge from the ropes. He wondered how long he'd been out for. He also had a throbbing headache, no doubt from the lack of oxygen.

"So, John," Jim said, coming out of the shadows and crawling onto the bed, still in his suit. "Is this how you envisioned the evening would go?"

John just glared at him, not saying anything. He didn't want to give Jim the satisfaction.

Jim raised an eyebrow at him. "Ah, I've angered you, I see. Little Johnny doesn't like getting trussed up for a fuck? Wouldn't you say you deserved it, though, Johnny, after that little outburst you had?" He trailed his fingers ticklishly up the inside of John's thigh.

John flinched a bit, but didn't say anything again. He was furious and helpless and absolutely crushed that he wouldn't even get to say anything to Sebastian ever. Not even a "yes, sir".

"Tell me, John...when you were cooking that dinner for me...how had you intended the evening to go? Was that your plan all along? Butter me up with some fine cooking, make me think that you were being sensible for the very first time, and then call me an idiot? Did you honestly think that would end well for you? Or did you have some other plan that you didn't get around to in the heat of the moment?"

John grit his teeth but didn't say anything. He hoped that Sebastian was asleep and would remain asleep throughout the duration of all of this.

"SPEAK WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO!" Jim yelled, backhanding John hard across the face.

John let out a small pained sound, but other than that, remained silent.

Jim growled in frustration at John's sudden refusal to cooperate. He grabbed his phone and crawled up onto the bed, thrusting his face against John's. "Speak, John," he said in a sing-song. "Or I'll call my sniper and tell them to do away with that sister of yours. It's not like you talk to her anyway… Or, if you prefer, I can tell them to kill Mike Stamford. Or Greg Lestrade. Hell, I'll let you choose." He hovered his finger over the call button. "Five...four..."

At the threat, John's eyes went wide. "I hadn't meant to call you that!" he blurted, "But I'm right! You know I am! If Sebastian had died, you would've been furious!"

"Do you think I don't know when somebody's breaking point is, Doctor Watson?" Jim asked. "Do you think that I don't know the line between a wound and a fatal wound? I knew you'd be there to clean up the mess in the morning, and he would've lasted until then." He cocked his head to the side and considered John. "What is it about him that makes you love him? He's not the type I'd have pegged you for, Johnny." He tossed his phone on the bed and began tracing his fingertip up and down John's chest, circling his nipples and his bellybutton.

John grit his teeth. "Because beneath it all—even if you refuse to see it or let it come out, Sebastian Moran is a decent man. He's nice, and sweet, and caring. He is nothing like you," John spat.

Jim laughed. "Is that right?" he asked. "Is that honestly what you think? He's a good liar, John, I'll give him that, and a good actor. You stay here, sweetheart," he said, leaning up to give John a long, lewd kiss before he swung of the bed. "SEBASTIAN!" he yelled. "GET UP, NOW! YOU HAVE AN INGRATE TO FUCK!"