Sorry I took so long to update! I've been busy... not really. I will try to update every couple of days though, from now on. No promises though. ;)
Drip. Drip. Drip. Lara watched each drop as it fell, and she envied them. The drop would fall, splat! And die, easily, and with no pain. Life had not been so kind to her. She knew it would end, though. Her agony would end. She could not bleed forever, and one day soon, she would simply breathe out, and never breathe in again. She longed for that moment. She didn't believe in God, heaven and hell, or any kind of after life. But she was still sure that ceasing to exist was much better than suffering. Her leg still bled slowly, and a dull throb persisted in her head.
Footsteps echoed through the room, and Lara guessed there were a few people. Maybe she could reason with them, convince them to simply slit her throat once they were done this time. No, they will keep me alive until there is no space left on my body for them to destroy. Her vision was blurry from her loss of blood, so she couldn't see from a distance who they were. She hung her head and tried to prepare herself for the misery to come.
Moriarty walked up to her, she could tell it was him by his expensive Italian shoes. He crouched and lifted her head up, so she was forced to look him in the eye. His face was expressionless, and she noticed that he was flanked by two men: her father, and one of her father's old friends.
"Sherlock isn't coming for you, if you were wondering." He looked smug. "Even if he knew where we are, he wouldn't care enough to come pick you up." He let go of her chin, and her head dropped back to her chest. She dared not make a sound as he stood and turned towards the other two men. His phone beeped and he said, "I'm done with her for today, but if you two have anything you want to do, I don't care." He walked away quickly as he took out his mobile.
Lara's father walked up to her, knife already in hand. She spoke before he had the chance, "Really, the knife, again? Ah, well. You never were one for change." She used the last bit of her energy to appear strong, and his face turned red. He motioned for his friend to come over.
"Hold her down," he said. The friend did as he was told, and smiled as Lara's father dragged the knife slowly across her stomach. Lara gritted her teeth so as not to scream again.
"You know, it's funny, really," Lara spat as soon as she got over the pain.
"What?" The smile her father had worn was gone.
"I'm going to die soon, and you can't hurt me then, no matter how hard you try." She smirked.
"Oh, we still have quite a bit of time before I let you die." The men laughed, but Lara ignored them, knowing that they were wrong.
John looked hesitantly at the building. It was new, with a tent-like design and a cool vibe to it. Unfortunately, the construction had been poor and the business using the building never took off. He looked towards Sherlock, then withdrew his gun, urging him to do the same. When they were both armed, Sherlock nodded at him, then at the building. "Let's go," he said, already walking towards the main doors.
The doors were locked, but the windows weren't. Sherlock climbed in first, and immediately went off in search of Lara, not even waiting for his partner. John scurried inside and tried to keep up with Sherlock.
"We'll find her faster if we split up," he said, and John nodded blankly. He was worried about Sherlock, but then again, he always was.
John had just started down his third hallway when he heard Sherlock softly calling his name.
"John! John, I found the entrance to the basement!" They both peered down the dark staircase, wondering whether or not they wanted to find Lara down there.
Lara was alone, and glad of it. Her tormentors had left her only minutes before, and only because their boss was going out. She was dizzy, she couldn't even focus on the water dripping anymore. She hadn't eaten since Moriarty had kidnapped her, and the hunger worked alongside her lack of blood to play tricks on her mind. Pain ripped through her body everywhere, and she felt as though she might pass out, like she did during Moriarty's phone call with Sherlock. She wished she could sleep for a bit, if the eternal sleep wouldn't come for her.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she could've sworn it'd been only minutes since she had been left alone. She knew it was time to ask. As soon the footsteps got closer, she called out with a voice weak from screaming, "Please, please kill me. Please just let me die, you've got me, you've broken me, or whatever, let me die now." Tears spilled from her eyes, and the footsteps got quicker, they were running to her, but why?
A hand lifted her face up, but the grip was gentle, unlike her captors'. She opened her eyes and saw Sherlock, but she didn't believe it was him, she had told him to stay away. She closed her eyes and opened them again. He was still there.
"Lara, it's me, Sherlock Holmes, remember? It's me, okay? John and I are here. We're going to get you help." Sherlock looked at her with soft eyes as she said it, and her tears started coming faster. She shook her head no.
"Leave me," she whispered.
"Never," he replied. He looked around for a key to unlock the shackles, but couldn't find one. He raised his gun and shot the chains that held her to the wall. Lara's arms fell limp, and she nearly fell over onto her side before Sherlock caught her and picked her up.
"John, cover us," Sherlock rose to his feet with Lara in his arms, and made his way to the stairs.
John followed, gun raised, watching the high-functioning sociopath as he carried a young girl to safety.