Hi! Chapter 32 is here.

I'll be making a jump with this one, I am not sure yet how much - approximately a week or two. Mel is Mycroft's PA now.

In the middle is a cut, there is also an Author's note. Even though I usually don't like them in the middle of a chapter, they might be necessary. Please read what I wrote. I don't want to upset you with it.

Enjoy!

The laptop-screen is bright and makes Sherlock's face look harsher, drawing deep shadows.

"Kiara, Mycroft?" He looks up to us. While we had been doing other research, he had been working on getting access to Anthea's laptop.

Both of us move to stand behind him, and watch as he opens the first document. It contains a long list of dates and names, none of which I recognize, but when I look at Mycroft, I can see his grim expression. Sherlock looks though the other documents as well, most of the containing data I can't work with, but finally he opens a video-file. It takes me a second to realise what is going on. The screen is split in four images, all showing the same room, but from different angles. A chair is in the middle, metal. In hindsight I should have known what this video is about, but I don't realise it, until Anthea and another man carry Mycroft inside. When they put him in the chair and Anthea crouches down to tie him to the chair, I can feel Mycroft stiffening even more than before next to me and then turn, fleeing the room.

Without a second thought I follow him, after I put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and push down slightly. I've got this one.

Mycroft is outside, approximately five metres down the hall, with his back to me and his head bowed slightly. I can see his clenched fists and the tense muscles in his neck immediately; the three white scars stand out even more.

"My." My voice is very quiet, so I swallow and try again, while I am walking towards him "My, are you okay?"

"Fine. Perfectly fine, Kiara." His voice is clipped and cold, obviously to scare me off, but the thing that hurts me, even if just a bit, is the fact that he thinks he has to hide his vulnerability from me, after all I have seen.

I walk around him so I can look into his eyes and then I slowly raise my hand and touch his cheek. He closes his eyes for a moment and I can see how he is desperately trying to get his usual mask back on. I wait, but don't remove my hand until he straightens and raises his head.

"You can watch the video-file. All of it, get all the information you need. But don't tell me a single word about it!" He hisses the last words and I nod, slightly worried. What happened in there to make him this emotional?

Mycroft puts his hand on my shoulder and tightens his grip for a moment, then steps out of my way.

"Go on, watch it. I'll be downstairs."

I smile sadly and nod again.

"I'll be there in two hours, My." The video won't be over then, probably, but still, I want to look after him then. He swallows and walks away.

Author's note: Here's the cut. In the next chapter I will include the basic information of what happens now. This part includes torture and blood. If you feel squeamish about it, DON'T READ FURTHER.

The next part could be rated M if you wanted to.

When I return to the room, I see that Sherlock waited for me, surprisingly. He looks at me questioningly, wondering what happened and whether we should watch on, but I only nod. He turns around and we look at the video again.

The screen is split in four images, all showing the same room, but from different angles. A chair is in the middle, metal. Anthea and another man carry Mycroft inside. After they put him in the chair and Anthea crouches down to tie him to the chair, the other man straightens and looks at her.

"Anything else, Miss?" His voice is strained, not used to talk to a woman like this. He is new, new in Anthea's command.

"That's all, you may leave now." Her voice is harsh and without the dream-like quality that was so typical for her.

While the man is leaving the basement, the thread takes a black cloth out of her pocket and pulls Holmes' head back to put it around it. I can hear Sherlock growl slightly at this, I don't think he is even aware that he is doing it, but I have half a mind to join him. Before finally leaving, she looks around the room once more, especially at the security cameras, checking whether they are still there. Then she closes the door behind her. Sherlock doesn't fast-forward the video, even though almost nothing is happening. So we have to wait about ten minutes until something changes. So far the only movement was Mycroft breathing. Now he seems to be waking up though, to a trained eye the slight head-movement indicating his oncoming awareness, but also the realisation of being captured, and then the attempt to cover it. After about fifteen seconds, the cameras behind Mycroft on the left and the right side show the movement of his fingers, carefully gathering data abound the leather-ties around his wrists. I cannot help but stare at his fingers right now. They are still whole, still working as they should. Only slightly plump, but better than bloody. How I wish now that I could somehow change everything. He stills again, and after about six minutes, Anthea comes in again. There is something over her mouth, a little microphone as well as speakers, to disguise her voice. She moves different than she used to, more cat-like, more dangerous. Walking around her prisoner a few times, she inspects him. He doesn't look bothered in the slightest, obviously he has no idea who his capturer is. Not yet, anyway. When she has seen enough, she grabs the hair of the elder Holmes and pulls his hair back, just like nearly twenty minutes ago. The man doesn't jump or show any of his surprise, not even when she presses the blade of her knife to his throat.

"Mycroft Holmes." She finally speaks, concerned only for a blink of an eye that her mouth-piece might not be working. When it does, she relaxes, if only barely.

"I didn't think I'd live to see the day when you wouldn't be in control of everything. I guess the world is full of surprises." she taunts, but Mycroft doesn't react. At this my anger grows. She worked for My for so long, does it not mean anything? Not even a bit of respect for the man who sacrifices so much to keep the country up and running? From what is visible of her face, she is slightly annoyed now. What fun is it to mock, if the victim isn't bothered?

"Okay. Where is your brother?" Mycroft doesn't answer, once again, but this time the thread reacts. She takes the knife away from her victim's throat and cuts from his right shoulder to the middle of his spine. For the first time, Mycroft does react, even if it is only his body betraying him. He tries to escape the knife, but Anthea holds him by his hair. Even without that, the leather-ties that bind his to the chair would be enough to stop him from moving to much.

"Where is your brother?" The man clenches his teeth only for a moment, but then speaks.

"He is dead," his voice shakes, almost impossible to hear, but the slight tremor is there. This is the point when I realise something. Why did Anthea ask where Sherlock was? She knew, didn't she? And even if she didn't she could have called him or just waited for us to come back, we wouldn't have doubted her at all. So why did she ask that? Just for fun? To confuse Mycroft? The only response to Mycroft's statement is a cut at the back of his left arm. This time he doesn't move at all, but clearly visible from the cameras in front of Mycroft, his face twitches a tiny bit.

We wait and watch for ten more minutes Anthea cutting the skin of her Ex-boss. Mycroft is silent and stoic, but I can see his calm mask wavering. After two more minutes, and a vicious cut to the back of his neck, the elder Holmes breaks the silence between the questions for the first time since he spoke, letting out a small moan of pain. The smile is clearly visible on the thread's face, even with her mouth-piece, and she continues.

After twenty minutes, Mycroft's breathing is harsh, and his calm mask is completely gone. The first cut to his hands had been horrible, as soon as he felt the cold metal on his wrist, he had tried to move them away. She had cut them anyway, more than once, more than twice, more than five times. After another five minutes, he just stops trying to move his hands away. His hands are curled into fists, but when she moves the knife to his palms where his fingernails dig into his skin, and continues the movement, threatening to cut his fingers, he slowly opens them, letting her cut his palms as well, his hands almost perfectly steady. Almost, the tremor is just starting.

What do you think? Please review!