Author's note- Thanks for the continued support everyone! Please leave just a little review if you like it. Wow, I wrote a lot more than usual for the last chapter.

There's a warning for violence and stuff like that in here.

Disclaimer- I own nothing as previously stated, and if you haven't realised that by now then I will have to call you Anderson for being so inevitably stupid.

Chapter 14

For once, the police officers were quiet as they listened to Sherlock's brief but informative account of the past few hours' events. While they kept their faces composed, John couldn't help the flashes of pain and guilt that crept onto his usually calm expression.

"We expect that they escaped by boat on the river opposite," Sherlock ended, "After all, Mycroft's cars didn't see anyone exit the grounds." With a frown, the younger man turned to his brother: "Speaking of which, why on earth didn't your cameras pick up anything?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the elder Holmes' started with a sigh, "The cameras all around had two brief moments of blackout. First of all, when we expect they entered the building, and second when they took Lucy. The screens that were being observed went static before losing signal for several moments before being restored again as though nothing happened." He looked down at his umbrella as though it was incredibly interesting.

"Right," Lestrade shouted to his team, "We need half of you to search the river, get a speedboat if necessary, we don't know how far they would have travelled. Some stay on land. Everyone else search the warehouse grounds for any clues; footprints etcetera."

Just as the police were about to set off to work, Sherlock's phone went off with a message. Everyone hesitated as he took out his phone. With a tight voice the consulting detective read it out loud:

"Don't bother looking. I'll be done with her very shortly." Sherlock winced.

"What could he mean by that?" John asked quietly.

"Well it depends on what he will be 'done' with," Mycroft muttered, leaning on his umbrella.

"What if she gets raped?" Sherlock suddenly murmured, going through all the possibilities in his mind as to what Moriarty could mean.

"Sherlock," John warned gently, "It's unlikely he'd do that."

"But it's a possibility," he countered, unintentionally snapping at his friend. The police team were motionless, watching the exchange. They jumped as Sherlock's phone beeped again. There was a pause, "It's a video of some sort." Sherlock told them, not wanting to see what the video contained but needing to see it anyway.

"Play it," Greg said, "It could be of some use to finding her."

"But he said that there was no point in looking," Sherlock sighed, "Presumably we won't find her until he lets her go."

"Play it anyway Sherlock," Mycroft ordered, earning himself a withering look. Regardless, everyone (including the police force) crowded around Sherlock's mobile phone to get a look at what had been sent. John placed his hand in an attempted comforting action on his flatmates arm; his friend didn't shrug it off, but instead gave him a rare half smile of genuine gratefulness. It worried John a lot by how affected Sherlock seemed to be- but then again, he would react the same if it were John. With a tentative touch, he pressed the button for the video to play.

A room, concrete by the looks of it appeared on the small phone screen. Its colours were a dull, repetitive gray; and in essence it was entirely unfriendly looking. But never mind the room itself with its one window covered with bars letting through little light; what was in the centre of the room facing the camera was what was upsetting. Lucy was sitting alone, tied to an uncomfortable wooden chair by her legs and arms. Her mouth was no longer gagged though, but the state she was in was pretty awful. The teenager looked terrified, her face was pale and her eyes were darting nervously around the room.

Sherlock stared emotionlessly at the video, but inside, he knew it hurt. John had clenched his fists by now and gritted his teeth to avoid shouting in rage.

Suddenly a voice emitted from the mobile's speakers.

"Smile for the camera," Jim Moriarty sang as he entered the room, still hiding in the shadows. Lucy's head turned at a fast pace to look at the man now entering the light beside her.

Sherlock, John and Mycroft grimaced at the face they knew so well. The police force –especially Lestrade- knew who Moriarty was, but with professionalism they maintained their mask- showing little emotion for now.

Moriarty grinned and gave a sarcastic wave to the camera positioned in the room. But he turned sharply to the frightened girl:

"Don't think of uttering a single word or I'll make this worse for you." But then his smile came back, "They can see you, you know. Your little friends are watching this as we speak."

"It's a live stream," Sherlock growled to the police force.

"Right everyone off now!" Lestrade yelled at the gathered officers, "Do the work I told you to do and find her!" They all left quickly and Lestrade once again turned his full attention to the live stream.

"Enjoy the show!" Jim said cheerfully to the camera before patting Lucy on the head like a dog and taking his leave.

Not a moment later, an unnamed man entered the room, stalking towards the teenager in the chair with a threatening stance.

"That's Seb." John whispered.

The man- Sebastian Moran- stared at the shaking girl with a wild ferocity in his malice filled eyes. Silent, but deadly, he came up behind her and said (just loud enough for the audience to hear back at the warehouses):

"The boss wants you to suffer; embarrassment, guilt. Your secret will be revealed for your little friends to see." Sebastian withdrew a pair of scissors- presumably from his pocket and began to cut away at Lucy's long sleeved top. With horror, Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade watched on. Her flatmates knew what was coming but even they found it hurt the same each time they saw it. First, Seb started with the arms, one after the other, the sleeves were cut off and fell into a pile on the floor exposing her skin. He paused at the bandages underneath before mercilessly ripping them off. Then, surprising the consulting detective and his blogger, and cut away the stomach part of the clothing- so it now looked very much like a crop top.

Cuts were exposed to the four people watching the phone. Many were red, others were scars. Not only were they littered all over her arms- but on her flat stomach too. Together they traced an unexplainable pattern on her skin- a story almost. Lucy audibly whimpered- doing her best to avoid protesting so that she didn't make things worse for herself.

"Jesus." Lestrade murmured, looking sadly at the live stream.

"Did you know about this?" Mycroft asked both his brother and John.

"We did," John answered for them, his voice quiet and sad.

"How have your 'people' not found her yet Mycroft?" Sherlock suddenly shouted.

"They're doing their best," his brother assured him.

"They aren't trying hard enough." The younger Holmes' said bitterly.

Lucy tried to keep her breathing even in an attempt to control her anxiety and the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm her. She hated knowing that they were watching her, staring at the scars on her marred skin. Chances are it wasn't just her flatmates watching either. She winced, watching with scared eyes as a man named 'Seb' walked around her. The footsteps suddenly stopped. There was a pause in which Lucy tensed her whole body.

The wait was unbearable.

"Aaahh!" Lucy screamed out in absolute agony as a metal pipe whacked into the skin of her arms- opening up the healing cuts, making beads of blood come to the surface, trailing down her white skin. Her eyes widened at her mistake.

"I thought my boss told you not to talk!" Seb snarled before striking her legs. Lucy bit back another scream- but it turned out to be more of a choked sob. Cringing at the thought that her friends were having to watch this, she glanced at her arms and assessed the damage. It wasn't too bad, it had opened up all fresh or scabbed cuts, and would most likely leave a bruise (the same for her legs) but nothing was broken... luckily. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and cheek hard as a way to endure the following hits on her arms and legs. Each was as painful as the last- if not more. It felt like hours she had been sat there getting beaten, but only a few minutes later she opened her eyes as it stopped. Lucy's arms were red and stinging; her legs were undoubtedly the same. She let out a breath which almost sounded like a mixture of a whimper and a hiss.

"Did you enjoy that?" Seb taunted.

"Fuck off." She retaliated, but groaned as she slipped up yet again. Seb glared at her and muttered something that sounded like 'cocky bitch' before walking into the shadows and picking up something that scraped against the concrete floor. As he came back into sight, Lucy noted, with horror, that he now held a jagged edged knife in his hands- not unlike the one found in the kitchen of her old house.

"You have two options," Seb started, his voice gruff and menacing, "Either you cut yourself or I cut you. You can speak."

"Not much of a choice," she snapped. "I'm hardly going to do it myself am I?" Seb raised an eyebrow.

"You fucking emo freak," he muttered. But nonetheless he untied her hands, "One wrong move and your dead." Holding out her arm he pressed the edge of the knife on the topside- away from the big veins. Lucy sucked in a deep breath as he jabbed the knife in, dragging it across with agonising slowness. He seemed to sickly relish the torture. Lucy cried out as he drew it up and out with a flick. "Shut up," he growled. This time, he flipped her arm over, so that the pale underside was facing upwards. The blue veins were just visible, and it gave him a sadistic smirk. A little below the wrist, he repeated the action.

"Ah stop!" Lucy cried out, unable to control her screaming any longer.

"No, you should be used to it after all." Seb said, smirking. No trace of compassion in his cold voice. At this, she flinched and cried out as it caused the knife to go deeper. Blood was freely flowing down her arms as he chucked away the knife, satisfied with his two cuts.

"Why are you doing this?" She moaned.

"The boss wanted entertainment for this evening, and to hurt your pathetic friends." Suddenly his eyes went bright, "Looks like it's time for the video. Don't think of moving." He laughed maniacally before taking his leave. In front of Lucy, projected on the wall was a video. She briefly wondered how everyone else would be able to see this, but then realised that there was most likely another camera angled to get a look at it.

Lucy felt the tears flow down her cheeks as he parents appeared on the screen. She fought back the dizziness and the darkness, determined to get through this. The angle of the camera that was fixed on her parents gave the impression of a hidden one, but even so, it had a good shot of the two.

"She's in the way." Her father- David- muttered to her mother- Lily. "She's holding us back. He said we could do great things if she wasn't here."

"And you believe everything Jim says?" Lily asked critically.

"Lucy is a hindrance." He snapped, "Having to look after her means we can't get the money we need." Lily's eyes widened in realisation, and her hand flew to her face.

"You idiot! You were the one that stole from Jim!" She gasped, "We're going to be killed."

"I'd rather kill Lucy," he mumbled, uncaringly, "If it weren't for her I wouldn't have had to."

"You don't love her?"

"Of course I don't." He yelled. David's eyes narrowed, "Don't tell me you are letting sentiment and love for that thing get in the way."

"I feel the same as you," she murmured, after a painful pause. Although it appeared she regretted the words, she shrugged and smiled. David noticeably sighed in relief before walking out.

The video flickered before turning off. All that could be heard were Lucy's broken sobs as they wracked her body, the tears failing to cease trailing down her pale cheeks. Everything she had known... was a lie. Her heart and stomach had dropped. It was like her body wasn't even hers. The world was spinning. Lucy's captors never wanted to do much physical damage- but it was the emotional damage that they truly wanted to inflict...

And they had won.

She couldn't breathe. The surreal feeling of the situation made it seem light a horrid dream. Black clouds started to obscure her vision. Not that it mattered anymore. She just wanted to fade away. To feel nothing. She was numb all over.

The teen was aware of someone entering the room and the voice of Jim Moriarty said:

"Let her go." Before someone- presumably Seb- picked something up.

A sickening thud sounded and there was a blinding pain in her head before Lucy welcomed the darkness of unconsciousness with a surge of gratefulness.

No one knew what to say. Not Sherlock, not John, not Mycroft, not Lestrade. No-one. It was deathly silent. And to make matters worse, still no-one had found the location of her; and for that matter, the forensic team hadn't found anything either. There were reports of a boat leaving the warehouses, but no-one had seen or heard anything else. What was there to say? They all felt anger, outrage... and sadness. How would she cope? This was going to break her. All the four could do was stare at the now blank phone. They were like that for a good five minutes.

"Where do you think they've taken her now?" Greg asked, his voice tight.

"They'd have let her go," Sherlock said softly as he pocketed the phone. He took a step back running his hands through his hair and letting out a big breath.

"She'll need to go to the hospital," Mycroft informed them, saying something they already knew but wanting to break the silence before it inevitably happened.

"No." Sherlock shook his head firmly, "She would hate that."

"I'll look after her," John spoke up, wiping a stray tear from his face, "I have plenty of stuff at home."

"Are you sure?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows. John nodded determinedly, so the elder Holmes' nodded his agreement. But he turned to his brother, "Since when did you care about anyone?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"Since I got myself two friends- John and Lucy." Sherlock said, trying to smile but failing as it turned into a grimace.

"Thanks," Lestrade muttered sarcastically, attempting to lighten the mood. Sherlock glared at him.

"And an... ally on the police force," He added as an afterthought, feeling the need to show the DI that he did hold some sort of liking for him. Greg smiled in surprise, but Sherlock quickly said: "That's enough emotion for one year, let's go do Anderson's work for him."

When Lucy awoke, it was still dark. She was laying on the floor in the middle of a secluded alleyway, most likely in London. Everything felt sore and stiff. She'd taken a nasty blow to the head, so she had to close her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Tentatively, and very slowly, she stretched her aching limbs. Nothing was broken thankfully, but she's lost a bit of blood. However, the cuts had stopped bleeding a while ago, so that was a bit of luck. She wouldn't die. After a few minutes she stood up, letting the dizzy feeling fade before she started to get out of the alley. A glance at her phone in her pocket that had miraculously remained intact, told her that she had been unconscious for roughly forty minutes.

Once out on the street, she was relieved to note that she was only a few streets away from the warehouses. It was lucky she paid attention to the route the cabbie took them. So, on shaky legs, she set off to the warehouse grounds where she prayed the police were still working. It took her only a few minutes to get to the last street before the buildings, she was doing her best to hurry after all. Lucy wanted nothing more than to see the faces of her two only friends, and to go home. With a deep breath she rounded the corner.

Numerous police cars were stationed by the grounds. Mycroft's cars had gone, but there was a single black car further down the street- which probably meant that he was with the police and her flatmates. Limping over, she kept her breathing even. The young teenager refused to think of the events the previous hour had held. She refused to even consider thinking about the video. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

She almost started crying with joy when she saw Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock, John and some forensic officers outside warehouse thirteen. They hadn't yet noticed her so she continued to move towards them. The searing pain caused her to wince, but she didn't care, she just wanted her friends. Once she was close enough to hear the consulting detective arguing with someone she recognised as Anderson, she called out:

"Sherlock!" She called his name, her voice was hoarse and her tone gave the impression that she would break down any second. Their heads whipped around to look at her as she approached.

"Lucy!" They all said her name in relief as they rushed over. She felt herself collapse in the arms of John and Sherlock.

"Lucy, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, worried.

"Are you okay?" John murmured even though he knew she wasn't.

"Sherlock... John..." She could barely get out their names as the tears began falling once again. In their arms she broke down.

"Mycroft, we need to get back to 221B," Sherlock said.

"I'll go with you, my car is parked opposite," Mycroft said.

"We'll wrap up here," Lestrade told them, he turned to where Lucy was held in John's arms, "Good to see you're here." He smiled gently, unsure what else to say. Lucy managed a smile of gratitude for the kind DI officer. Mycroft nodded to Greg as he led the way to his car. After a few steps, Lucy's legs collapsed beneath her in exhaustion and from pain. Without even thinking, Sherlock caught her and picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the black vehicle.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured to her.

"It's not your fault," she mumbled tearfully.

"I should have protected you like I've been able to protect John."

"It's not your job."

"I'm your friend," Sherlock whispered, "John and I should take care of you."

"Friends shouldn't do that." Lucy disagreed.

"Family should," John joined in.

"You guys are my family," Lucy wiped away tears, "I never had any real family it seems." Her voice choked before she started sobbing.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said his brother's name as he opened the door- gesturing for him to get himself and Lucy in.

Once safely in the car, John began looking at her wounds. But much to Sherlock's shock, he got a text. With a fire in his eyes that he had never felt before, he read the words on the screen:

I enjoyed that. Better catch the killer though, they might strike again. Xx –JM

Why are you doing this? –SH

I like to watch people break –JM

Tomorrow, I suggest you check the warehouses thoroughly, Lucy might find a little treasure she likes xx –JM

Sherlock glared at his phone as though his look alone with kill Moriarty. But for now he would have to play along with his game, and attempt to avoid hurting Lucy even further.