Chapter 12 - (Broken)

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Sherlock couldn't believe his eyes, even though he had a suspicion from the very beginning - and now there he was, standing right in front of him.

Moriarty was alive.

"Sherly, what a pleasant surprise!" Jim grinned with fake delight as Cole led him into the room. The two men kept their eyes fixed upon each other, but it wasn't until the glow from the ceiling lights fell on the familiar criminal genius that Sherlock saw the condition he was in.

He wore at least a few days old stubble and he was also really thin – the man had to lose at least 10-15 kilos. Jim was wearing a blood-stained grey T-shirt and black sweatpants, his eyes were shadowed by dark circles, the madness in them gleaming somewhat sharper than before. In his greasy, lank hair Sherlock noticed two burned spots on either side of his head. His hands and neck were covered with old and fresh bruises.

"You-" John growled, "you're supposed to be dead!" Gesturing with an outstretched forefinger with barely suppressed rage.

"Er, sorry?" Jim sneered, still staring at the detective, who seemed to be completely stunned and speechless.

Sherlock was confused - was this just another psychological game by Moriarty, or was he really one of Sky's prisoners, just like him and John? He was not sure what to believe.

Sky seemed to be having fun - leaning against the wall with his arms folded and smiling.

"I knew you were behind it," Sherlock whispered with a hard-concealed astonishment. "It's always you, after all."

Jim just smirked arrogantly. "Nice to see you, too."

That's where Sky got involved. "I love watching soap operas, but I think this is enough for now." He gestured lazily to his assistant, who just nodded and dragged Jim to the wall opposite his cell where he pressed a tiny grey button and the white opaque wall suddenly became transparent. Sherlock realized then that it wasn't a wall at all, but a white glass that had now become clear. And behind it was a small chamber filled up to the ceiling with water and covered with some kind of grid just below the water surface. It looked a bit like a large wall-mounted aquarium.

"I admit that many may see me as a psychopath, or a genius, but deep in my soul," Doctor Sky grinned, closing his eyes in bliss, "I am a scientist, gentlemen."

"Hardly," Jim half-whispered. Cole immediately punched him in the face, splitting Jim's lower lip. He felt the taste of copper in his mouth, the hot blood seeping out and slowly dripping on the pure white floor. The Irish laughed bitterly.

Sherlock fought not to roll his eyes. What kind of show is this?

„Well, I think we cannot delay this any further. Cole," the doctor instructed his assistant again, and without a word the younger man led Jim out into the hall. A tense silence filled the room.

Sherlock and John watched nervously as the older man slowly, thoughtfully approached the bars of their cell until he stood right in front of them.

"Before I decide to include you and John in my program, I have to figure out how much you are prone to manipulation," the doctor said confidently.

Sherlock frowned. "I don't understand what's going on, Sky."

John joined. "They are looking for us. It won't be long before-"

"Before what?" The doctor spat. "Before the special rescue unit comes to save you? Keep on dreaming - Moriarty also thought they'd find him soon. I believe he still thinks so. "

Sky smiled slyly.

"The truth is, detective, they won't find you. Not until I want you to be found. "

John swallowed hard, while Sherlock didn't move, staring into the eyes of his captor.

"Enough talk, let's move on to why we're here," the doctor said enthusiastically.

"Please," John mumbled impatiently.

"It's quite simple - I will test your obedience and certain emotional and sentimental ties. You may find this series of experiments a bit, well, strange, but I am convinced that the results of these tests will serve my plans in the future. And I must admit that I will enjoy the spectacle. "

The doctor crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs on his left. He took a tablet from the table in front of him and turned it on. He tapped on it for a few moments, then looked up again and met the tense gaze of his prisoners.

"Your task, detective, is to hit your friend John so hard he falls unconscious. You have exactly three attempts."

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked. "I see no reason."

"Oh, sure – a reason," Sky clicked his tongue. "Because if you don't, then he-" he pointed at the huge aquarium into which something had fallen suddenly with a big splash - a person. Through the bubbles surrounding him it was impossible to tell who it was, but in the next second Sherlock knew.

It was Moriarty. With his hands still tied, jerking madly he sank slowly to the bottom.

"- dies." Doctor Sky finished his sentence, watching Jim trying to swim back to the surface with a devilish glint in his blue eyes.

"What's your point?! Is this a trick?!" Sherlock roared, rattling the solid metal bars of their cell. He tried to look away from the drama happening behind the glass wall, but it was hard to ignore Jim fighting for his life.

It was obvious that he was running out of oxygen and would soon drown.

"He's running out of time, detective. I would hurry, if I were you," Sky said calmly, watching something on the screen of his tablet.

For the second time today, time seemed to stop. Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off Jim, writhing at the bottom of the aquarium - he managed to get his tied hands in front of him, bounce off the bottom, but couldn't reach the surface - it was covered with that grid. There was no way out for him.

"You're a lunatic!" the detective screamed in anger, banging his fists against the cell's bars. Then he turned and met the gaze of his long-time friend. John's eyes widened in angry disbelief. A frightened look flitted across his face.

It's another GAME! His mind screamed.

"You won't do that. It's just a trick. He won't die. You can't kill your boss," Sherlock said firmly.

Sky laughed harshly. "Boss? Hah! I thought you were better, detective. "

"It's just another game," the younger Holmes insisted. Sky was silent.

But what was the point of this game? What does Moriarty (or Sky) want to achieve?

Jim really started to fight for his life. His mouth was tightly shut, but bubbles were escaping from his nose, and his movements became jerky and panic-stricken. He locked into Sherlock's gaze for a moment. Time was running out.

Sherlock swallowed nervously, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair, then quickly looked back at John standing beside him, pleading with his eyes.

"Sherlock, you can't be serious," John whispered in a trembling voice. "Would you ... for him?"

John was furious. "It's better if he dies – let him die!"

Jim started pounding frantically on the glass wall of the aquarium behind him. Sky laughed softly.

"I can't," Sherlock whispered brokenly, raising his clenched fist.

Outraged, Mycroft spilled hot coffee all over the table. Immediately, he picked up the mug and stood up angrily from his desk, pacing his office, eyes flickering all around.

"Kidnapped?!" he shouted into the phone.

"It looks like that, sir. We even brought search dogs and a helicopter, but all the traces seem to end at the local port. Very soon we'll check footage from all the security cameras nearby and then—"

"When? And by whom?" The older Holmes sputtered angrily, though he had known the answer to this question all along.

"We are not sure, sir, everything would be speculation at this point. However, I believe that Dr. Harnett will have some encouraging news. I'll sent her to you immediately," the agent replied monotonously.

Holmes rubbed his chin, his eyes fixed on the black liquid, lazily pooling on his lacquered table and dripping rhythmically onto the floor.

"Alright. Collect samples and question all the witnesses, anyone who might have seen or heard anything."

Mycroft hung up abruptly and threw the phone into his leather chair.

I should have killed him when I had the chance. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

It was a full moon.

Sebastian was sitting at the wheel of his Lexus, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, a little smoke rolling out of his nostrils. He stared at the glowing globe in the sky, and his mind was completely blank.

He felt utterly defeated.

Jim could not be found. Every trace led only to yet another dead end. His search instinct disappointed him. For the first time in his life.

Jim seemed to just disappear into thin air.

His memories took him back to the fateful day he had seen his boss for the last time. Even then, he had a hunch - if he listened to it, James might still be here.

He could still be alive.

Sebastian closed his eyes firmly, not wanting to think about Jim's ever confident face, the right corner of his mouth curling into a small grin when something went well. How the wrinkles of laughter around his eyes slightly increased as he smiled when -

Moran hammered his fists against the steering wheel.

ENOUGH!

Angrily, he took the unfinished cigarette out of his mouth, tossed it out the window, and started the car.

Sherlock's ears were buzzing. He stood motionless in the middle of a small cell, staring at the body of his best friend lying unconscious on the ground.

He did it. He hurt John – his best friend - to save Moriarty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doctor Sky signal to his underling, who immediately pressed another button. Then there was a loud rumble right above them coming from the ceiling. In a moment all the water from the aquarium of death was drained. All that was left in the small glazed room was a small soaked and trembling man, coughing and throwing up water.

A slow sarcastic applause mixed with loud laughter resounded through the room.

The game is on.