TheDarkestShinobi: Sorry, sorry, it been way too long, I know! Here's chapter four. Reviews are love!
Now, the italicized bits are some that the faint of heart should skip. It's torture from John's time at war.
Start
"A doctor at war?" The other comments in English as he uses John's uniform to clean a blade. It's still rusty, still likely to infect and kill him that way. John watches and swallows. Where would they cut him-scar him? Or rather, where first? He remembers the field that they took him from, and the shell that went off in the area. His mates may have assumed he was blown to bits. They would never find him. They would never look. "You are a perfect," he pauses and John wonders if the word doesn't translate, if that's how low he is to them. "Opposite." Contradiction, then.
"A doctor who kills."
He is a doctor, and a soldier, it is his job to hold lives in his hands. Now, his life is in their hands. The man lifts the blade to John's left arm and John tries to move away, but he has no leverage being held up by his arms. "I take your armor, but I will leave your badge," John lets out a small cry as the blade cuts into his skin. It was a light cut, not meant to do damage but the dull blade hurt as it separated his skin. It was a short cut. "Let all know who you are." John tries to remain strong, but he is sobbing by the 6th cut. They are cutting the cross into his arm, right where it stood on his uniform. He jerks as he cries but can't move very far. They are just beginning.
"No," he pleads as they start the 7th. He screams right after.
"NO!" John screams and Sherlock hisses in pain as John wakes up by using his right hand to pull down Sherlock's right wrist and twist it. Before either of them could breathe Sherlock feels John's left hand grab his neck and squeeze. That's not good. Sherlock's left hand grabs John's wrist and he tries to call out and make John aware of his surroundings but he has no air. He can feel the lightheadedness begin. If Sherlock had ever needed proof that John was dangerous he had just gotten it.
No. Don't be boring. I won't kill you.
Immediately after, Sherlock can breathe again, John pulls back both of his arms and moves away from Sherlock on the bed. A physical retreat. John is breathing heavily now and grabs his head with his hands as Sherlock focuses on deep breaths.
"Oh Jesus," John lets the situation sink in. "I'm so sorry Sherlock."
"It's okay," Sherlock soothes in a whisper. He had seen John like this before, when he first moved into Baker Street. Moriarty must have triggered it. John shakes his head and sighs.
"Was I loud?" Sherlock nods,
"I usually play the violin to calm you but it was ineffective." Sherlock begins to wave his arm around when a jolt of pain from his wrist stops him.
"Sherlock, you okay?" John spots the swelling and curses under his breath. He hops off the bed as Sherlock lifts his arm to let John inspect it.
"A sprain. My God Sherlock, I'm sorry." It looks like John is going to wallow in guilt over this, Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I can pick up a brace for you now. Let's go."
John double checks that it is, indeed, only a sprain and then gets Sherlock into a brace. He gives Sherlock painkillers and a glass of water before turning to see an umbrella. He looks up and locks eyes with Mycroft. He smiles politely and Mycroft narrows his eyes a fraction. John excuses himself quickly and Mycroft walks over to Sherlock.
"I have a case for you, Sherlock." Sherlock moves his head from side to side to make up for his hand in the brace and Mycroft glances at it before he looks to John, standing in the doorway, guilty.
"Sprained wrist, how exactly did that happen?"
"An accident," Sherlock answers as John closes his eyes and says "My fault." This causes Mycroft to lift an eyebrow.
"I should have known better" Sherlock scolds himself, "waking up an army veteran-" Sherlock stops abruptly as Mycroft's look. "Oh Mycroft," Sherlock sneers, "This is not a domestic violence case."
"Wait, what?" John asks in the background but Mycroft ignores him and Sherlock continues.
"He was having a flashback. I shook him." Mycroft twists his umbrella.
"Well that was rather stupid," he cedes. "If I find out-"
"We're not a couple." John insists as Mycroft looks towards him, about to open his mouth and retort.
"I believe you had a case for me to turn down." Sherlock breaks Mycroft's train of thought as he looks back to his brother.
"Right, then."
…
"In your bed?" Moriarty opens as he hears the phone picked up.
"Of course," She sounds smug. "In all of her glory." There is a soft sigh, "and then some."
"Naughty." Moriarty teases and can tell she smiles. She thinks he's flirting.
"I'm afraid I'm the one who gives out the spankings, Mr. Moriarty." She responds and he rolls his eyes.
"Spare me." He deadpans and she laughs as if he's told a joke. "Now, I have some ideas about where we go from here," She hums and he finds himself smiling as he outlines their options.
…
"No blood today, Doctor." John feels the impact of something hot and heavy against his back. He screamed. He could almost tell what was damaged and where his internal bleeding was. The swing of his body caused one of the wounds on his chest to rip open and that caused a whimper to escape him. He could feel the blood trickle down his chest. John swallows as he closes his eyes. The man says something John doesn't understand. John tries to focus on breathing, every breath normally hurt, heaving breaths would be torturous. He opens them as he feels the man pinch the wound close.
"Try not to scream." The man instructs as he lifted a red hot metal rod, John's eyes widen as he brings it closer before burning the wound shut. John doesn't try very hard.
John wakes up screaming. He jerks in bed until he gets his bearing and sits up to see Sherlock by the door. He is panting and John figures he must've been calling his name. He's still fully dressed, so it must not be that late. John closes his eyes as Sherlock walks forward. When John opens them, he can only focus on Sherlock's wrist brace. Sherlock moves it under his coat and John lifts his gaze to meet Sherlock's eyes. John knows what's coming, so he tries to brace himself.
"I've tried not to pry," Sherlock starts and John knows it is true; otherwise it would have already been laid out before him. John drops his eyes. "You've been triggered by a kidnapping you were unharmed in. Since you aren't afraid of danger or death," that is one way to put it "it had to be situational. You were taken before." Sherlock glances at the door and John notes its pitch black outside his window. "The incident with the Black Lotus did not affect you afterwards."
"Yeah," John whispers.
"Your screams aren't from a bullet," too quick of a pain, and it's a rip, surprise, "or a nightmare," the violence it causes and John's screams really have only one explanation. "You were tortured for enough of a time that you expected death and for the scars to cover most of your body." John nods again feeling a tight feeling rise in his chest. The scars were obvious from his dressing habits.
"Therefore," Sherlock concludes, "a POW." The word echoes in his head and John stands and walks downstairs. Sherlock follows. John has had enough of this conversation, but he knows Sherlock has to pry so he lets him.
"How long?" John doesn't know, he didn't sleep much, didn't have any way to keep track, but he was told it was 16 days.
"16 days." He turns the kettle on, needing some tea. Sherlock can tell John doesn't want to talk about it but he feels his brain gnawing at him. New information!
"How long before you were shot?"
"Few days," John's voice is tense and so are his shoulders. Sherlock tilts his head.
"And the leg?" John turns to answer when the leg in question gives out on him. John reaches for a chair and both crash to the ground. Sherlock takes a step forward and hopes Mrs. Hudson doesn't wake up. John rests his head on the floor as Sherlock picks up the chair. John is trying not to cry and needs a moment. Soon after, John stands up and Sherlock offers him his good hand to get up. John takes it and leans against the counters looking down. He closes his eyes and Sherlock looks away.
I will burn you.
"Please, Sherlock, no more questions." Sherlock wants to ask if he means now or ever because Sherlock has more he wants to ask but he knows he has already asked enough so he nods and turns to make his way to the couch. Sherlock seems to be pouting until John places his mug of tea in front of him. Sherlock stands, realizing it is all okay, and grabs his violin.
They would survive Moriarty.
Sherlock watches John as he plays and sees the tension ease out from the other.
In this moment, he knows he needs to protect John from Moriarty, or else Moriarty will take John and neither of them will be able to recover.
I will burn the heart out of you.
TDS: Thoughts?