WARNING: for violence and abuse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Come and See and I Saw...

Sherlock's confidence had been hectic, liberating, exciting and very, very... misplaced.

Perhaps it was the fact that the now former Watcher had woken too soon from his Dream Status, perhaps it was the thrill of the chase that clouded his judgement, it could have been a number of things.

But John Watson knew now that they were in deep and serious shit.

Because as it were, they were locked in a penitentiary transport ship bound for the foreboding orbital spacecraft, the Aquitaine.

Home of Cardinal Magnusson, the most powerful man on earth and in space, John had thought as they flew across the stars.

The journey took six hours and there was no time for sleep, not for him at least.

Sherlock had come willingly when their- his- plan to sneak aboard a supply ship failed.

And the former Watcher had good reason to come quietly when he was informed they had something of his the Cardinal knew he held dear to him.

There had been no glorious gunfight, no throwing of any kind of fists.

A simply raise of their arms over their heads and a short walk to the ship that would take them to their fate.

They were not separated as John thought they might've been.

The two men were seated across from each other, extra tungsten carbide handcuffs for Sherlock.

John was not idle, he had counted all possible escape options. His companion however seemed to be... snoring.

John knew it was completely delusional but he almost felt like Sherlock was provoking him by just carelessly dozing as they were taken to their doom. And it was Sherlock-fucking-Holmes, yet again, who was dragging him into such terrible dangers.

With his unbound leg he kicked Sherlock in the shin and the other man hissed and groggily awoke from his slumber.

"Why in the name of god-"

"You're an asshole." John snapped.

Sherlock had the balls to actually gape at him!

"Me?"

"Yes, you, you fucking prick. A transfer, that's all I wanted and now-"

"Hey, shut up back there!" Their guard yelled from down the corridor.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, ignoring the warning they had both received.

"And all I wanted was to solve a case." Sherlock said childishly.

"Good job you did."

"Hey, I said shut up!" The guard yelled again.

The two men sat in stubborn silence, like small children fighting over a toy only for mummy to put them both in the corner.

"You don't think there were things I wanted." Sherlock said faintly, looking at the floor.

John decided he didn't care and he wouldn't listen, but that didn't mean Sherlock would stop talking. He didn't care what Sherlock wanted. The former soldier and spy wanted to sulk in his misery, he wanted to feel sorry for himself. No one else was. This wasn't about Sherlock.

Isn't everything? He thought mutely.

"I wanted things," Sherlock went on. "Stupid, small things that people like me shouldn't want or don't get to have. I wanted far away, a place that was mine. I wanted my..."

John couldn't help himself, he sighed.

"What did you want?" John asked calmly. The other man glanced up, almost embarrassed.

"There was a moment," Sherlock began. "When I was with Molly, after we had- well, I held her and all I wanted was for us to be a family. A real family, John. That's something I've never wanted with Janine. I've always detested the idea of being a father. But that sweet girl- my girl- made me yearn for something I had never in my wildest fantasies imagined."

John bit his lip as he stubbornly could empathise to everything Sherlock had said.

The words were different than what he himself would say but they still carried the same weight, the same definition, the same plight that John felt within himself every day.

A yearning, a festering feeling of longing, loneliness and the desire to belong.

It needled away at a person until they would burst into madness or rage or a simpering, whimpering fool.

"I had a woman once," John found himself saying. "A long time ago. I lost her and my whole life fell to pieces. It was my fault that she- uh- that she... died."

Sherlock listened as he felt it was respectful, appropriate and only right that he should listen when John had listened to his own confession. Because wasn't that all they had left now? Confess their sins, their darkest secrets in their last hours of life and freedom.

"She died and it was my fault. I refused to go on a mission without her, I needed her by my side and now," John paused as he broke down. "Now my side is empty because of my selfishness and she haunts me, Sherlock. I see her everywhere... I had to abandon her in that horrid place and they-"

Sherlock leaned forward as much as he could, John couldn't even wipe away his own tears.

"It's okay," Sherlock said comfortingly. "I'm here."

John took a deep breath and sobbed and hard as he might try, he couldn't stop now.

"I said shut up, damn it!" The guard yelled again but it was becoming harder and harder for John to control himself.

Sherlock tried consoling his partner but it was no use. He noticed the guard coming towards them, clad in black body armor and carrying a rather large and imposing weapon.

"Wait, wait he's just having a moment." Sherlock tried to explain but the guard just punched Sherlock across the face before turning his attention to John.

The mechanical man grimaced and groaned at the impact, he might've been half man but he could still feel pain; they hadn't replaced his head.

"Quiet, traitor!" The guard shouted at John and he kicked him hard and the soldier grunted and leaned forward towards the man's legs and began dry heaving.

"Let him be." Sherlock groaned.

Suddenly John lurched up, his hands somehow free, and propelled a knife into the guard's jugular, sending a spurt of blood across the soldier's face and painting the wall in red plasma.

Sherlock felt the blood splatter across his own face but he wasn't as covered as John.

The man gurgled on his own blood and tried reaching up to stop John but he had been too caught off guard and began sagging as the blood rushed out of him like a torrid river. Sherlock noted how John never broke eye contact with the man as he lowered him slowly to the floor, a hand over the man's mouth to keep him quiet.

When the man was dead and gone John limped over to Sherlock and unbound his hands.

"How did you-"

"I was a spy, remember?" John said.

Looking at John now, outlined in dark blood, the stars behind him and earth even further away, Sherlock realized how far he had pushed John.

The man had been looking for peace, just as he himself had been, and in return he covered his partner's hands in more blood.

I'm sorry, Sherlock wanted to say.

"Someone will notice he hasn't reported back." Sherlock said instead and John nodded and with a hand wiped the blood from his face and then wrung his hands on his jeans, the blue of the denim fading into dark crimson.

X

When Molly woke she was alone and it was dark. She wasn't in her bedroom she knew that. She was someone far away, she was floating, she was falling, she was... she heard something.

A low hum, almost soothing in a bizarre way until it wasn't.

The girl staggered to her feet and hugged her arms to herself. The floor was cold and there was so little light.

"Hello?" She asked the darkness, half expecting a foreboding voice to return her cry.

As if the darkness could talk...

Where is Mr. Holmes? Was her first thought. She had not seen him or heard of or from him since he had his... whatever happened to him.

Mrs. Hudson had rushed her out so quickly and then Captain Watson... her shame returned, her guilt.

There had been a time when she longed for Mr. Holmes to shame her with his desire and she wallowed in it wantoningly. She had drunk from his debauched cup and savored the taste.

But this was a different shame. She had betrayed him though she had made no promise to him and he had never made any such sentiments to her.

And yet there had been some quiet understanding between; a silent vow made in their intimate moments.

A look, a touch, a confidential contract they had both signed and sealed with their bodies.

Was it enough? She thought dismally.

"Hello?" She called again with no answer to soothe her.

Where am I? She thought.

The hum was unfamiliar and growing more and more frightening on a primordial scale.

An unabashed, queasy feeling of certain dread swept through her. Her brain was telling her to panic, to run and find a way out. But how could she when there was no light to guide her?

If ever there were a time she wanted to be saved it was now. She could not do it alone. How could she navigate the darkness that seemed to have swallowed her whole without a guide?

And almost naturally in these moments of confusion and terror she imagined a monster coming for her, lurking somewhere in the obsidian darkness, looming all around ready to gobble her up.

Papa, she thought sadly.

Yes, she wanted Mr. Holmes by her, with her, near her, anywhere that could give her some semblance he was still alive, some reassurance he had not died in her bed.

But it was her father's face, appearing like a knight with the flames of battle at his back and the blood of the evil dragon on his sword and shield that took shape in her mind's eye.

The comfort only a father could give.

"Don't cry my darling girl, my little Smiling Star," he had called her when her nightmares of the Dark Beast came to paralyze her with fear at night.

The way in which he held her, rocking her little body with his larger one, the way his hands had looked... so rough and pale. He had never failed to slay all her dragons. He had never failed to come home... until one day, he didn't.

"Papa." She gulped through her tears.

"You must be brave, Smiling Star. You must see the light even when all lights go out." He would say to her and then he would speak in his homeland's tongue and she would giggle and beg him to teach her the words but he would shake his head.

"Those are not words you will need to know." He said sweetly though she would be disappointed in his reply. "Remember, Smiling Star, one day you will be alone but do not fear the loneliness. For in those moments you will realize your courage."

Molly bit back the rest of her tears and swallowed her fear, though her body still shook.

I will be brave, she thought decidedly. If I cannot see in the dark I will become the dark.

X

When the penitentiary transport made contact with the Aquitaine it was successful, mostly due to John holding a gun to the head of the pilot.

Dressed in the uniforms and armor gear as the guards they assumed the helmets to their facade as they knew their faces would be recognized immediately. Both men knew eventually they would need to take them off but until then they remained securely attached.

"This is insane." John whispered through the mic to Sherlock.

The Aquitaine was a behemoth, it's open maw had swallowed the little transport ship and John had once again felt that uneasy feeling that only doom awaited them.

They approached the Captain at Arms and Sherlock handed him the manifesto.

"Six prisoners on board ready for transfer." He stated simply, altering his voice. The Captain at Arms looked over the manifesto, Sherlock read his face.

The man was in his mid forties, a lifer of the military and his face was slightly altered by his years in orbit in faux gravity. He was unmarried, former smoker, drinker and impotent.

The Captain at Arms nodded curtly.

"Very well, Lieutenant, we'll take it from here." The Captain at Arms said handing the manifesto tablet off to his adjutant. "Check in for debriefing, find something in the mess hall and get some shut eye while we refuel the ship."

Sherlock and John nodded and followed the blue line on the floor towards the locker rooms and sleeping quarters, only to make a slight and important detour onto the red line.

"They'll find the bodies in the cargo hold eventually." John reminded him but Sherlock didn't give a response.

"We need to get to the archives, anything that might tell us where the Cardinal's personal chamber is." Sherlock told him instead.

"You've never been here?" John asked him and Sherlock shook his head.

"I've avoided it my whole life. The last time I saw the Cardinal in person it was at the Ten Year Prayer feast. It... didn't end well." Sherlock said to his companion.

"I've only seen him on the Network announcements. Strange to think we're really here." John commented.

"Don't let the luxury of this place fool you, John. It's a charade, all a mask to hide what really goes on here." Sherlock said to him knowingly.

With a little stealth and very convincing acting they found their way to not actually the archives but the next best thing: an information kiosk.

It didn't give them exactly what they needed but it gave them a rough estimate and idea, it was enough for Sherlock to deduce the rest.

Sherlock deduced that the Cardinal was hold up in a section of the ship called Appledore.

"Why do you think he'll be there?" John asked him.

"It just... makes sense. It feels right." Sherlock replied.

John frowned, was Sherlock Holmes now following his intuition?

"You're going by feeling instead of logic? What kind wiring do you have?" John found himself saying jokingly and to his surprise he heard Sherlock chuckle.

"Despite my feelings towards my younger brother, he is a very good scientist."

"Do you think he's working for the Cardinal?" John asked, he had been thinking it since Sherlock told him that Rayburn had sent a drone to follow him.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No. Rayburn is many things, a voyeur is at the top of the list, but he's loyal to the family." Sherlock told him convincingly.

"Good afternoon, Aquitaine family," a female voice came on over a speaker, her voice was soft and programmed, "It is a good day to be alive. Remember the Cardinal Rules, the Cardinal is your friend. Be calm, rested, eat well and stay hydrated. And remember to watch over your fellow man. It is 12:00 PM and the Cardinal wishes you a pleasant day."

John felt an eerie chill pass over him.

The disembodied voice flitted away and went on about weather on earth, a meteor shower was expected, the moon would be full and visible on the starboard side of the ship and would be best in the public mess hall where all were welcome to view it.

Sherlock and John entered the lift that would take them to Appledore.

Inside Sherlock used a frequency in his radio to scramble the security cameras, causing them to malfunction for a few minutes, giving them time to shed their suits, retaining the lightweight but durable body armor.

"We'll encounter obstacles as soon as they realize what we left behind." Sherlock warned John as they waited for the lift doors to open, the little bell ticking down like the bell tolling for them, like Death's own little chant.

John shrugged and prepared his weapon.

"Little late to back out now." John said. "Look, Sherlock, in case we don't make it out-"

"I know, John. I forgive you." Sherlock said graciously. And this time John did truly believe him, inside and out.

"Soldiers today." John said strongly, the floors ticking closer and closer to their destination.

Sherlock straightened his back and took a deep breath.

"Soldiers.

The lift doors opened and it was then that Sherlock knew he had been right when deducing this was where the Cardinal would be and he wished he had been wrong.

The walls were not really walls... they were glass cages encased inside the walls.

John and Sherlock couldn't breathe. There were no guards, there were no security cameras (not that they could see), there was nothing except the glass cages.

And inside them made both men nearly drop their weapons in horror and disgust.

Inside each cage was a child ranging from various ages, but none could be older than eleven. And the hallway in which they lined the walls seemed to go on and on forever.

A chamber of tears.

Sherlock gritted his teeth, he had been right. He had always known he had been right but this... this was his proof. The proof in ragged, abused child flesh, in blood and bone and numb, dead eyes that stared at him.

"Sherlock," was all John could say. What else could he say?

"Come on." Sherlock said through clenched teeth, slowly moving down the narrow hallway. The children looked at the two men with their raised guns curiously.

Boys and girls, barely dressed, barely alive, gazing at them, pressing their hands to the glass.

"Now do you see?" Sherlock asked his partner, barely above a whisper. "Now do you see why I killed myself?"

John nodded and held back his emotions, his want and desire to break apart the glass.

But the children were becoming countless, a myriad of innocents crammed into a pedophile's perverted menagerie.

"How?" John asked.

"The NLD of course. The junkies sell their children to the highest bidder, even the heroic resistance sells their own children to the Cardinal; the very evil they're trying to defeat. Every cause has hypocrites and heretics. Sadly, these are the martyrs, John. These are the spoils of war." Sherlock explained cynically.

"Jesus." John gasped.

At the end of the long corridor was a white door with the sideway cross of the Cardinal; it was in red and ran horizontally across the door.

"It could be a trick." John suggested and Sherlock shook his head.

"No. He would want to be near them. He'd want to have access to them no matter what. There's a trap door inside each room for him to enter." Sherlock said and he holstered his gun, feeling the door for booby-trap or fraud.

"We could knock." John said and Sherlock shot him a glare, this was no time for jokes.

"He doesn't deserve that courtesy." Sherlock snapped.

John understood and didn't take his partner's reaction personally.

It was all very, very sensitive and emotional. He regretted saying anything at all.

Sherlock placed his hand on the doorknob, unholstering his gun once more. John took aim, both men taking a deep breath as Sherlock began to slowly turn-

"Come in, Mr. Holmes." A soft, male voice called, startling them both and causing a gasp to leap it's way out of John's mouth. Sherlock stilled, sweat forming at his hairline and brow.

John gulped and his eyes shot to Sherlock.

"Well?" John said, feeling his own perspiration sweeping down his back.

"Damn it."

"What?"

"The element of surprise is lost." Sherlock said disappointedly.

"Now is really not the time for that, remember?" John said, gesturing with his head towards the glass cages.

Sherlock nodded and opened the door.

AN: thank you all once again for your amazing reviews, it means so much to me! I hope you're enjoying this still :) To be honest, it might feel like the story is coming to an end, and though I have it planned, I don't plan on ending it any time soon. I hope you're all having a great week with work, family, school or whatever it is you love to do, I hope you're able to do it. Also! I'm going to be moving on Thursday and will most likely be without internet for an indefinite amount of time so if I'm not posting as frequently then that's why 3 feel free to follow me on Tumblr, my username is intheruinsofhislove