"I'm sorry, John." Mycroft Holmes said after a moment of silence. John's nose was bleeding, and Mycroft knew it was his fault. It seemed that John believed he was innocent. The last thing he wanted is for him to change his mind. "Save it." Mycroft had to say something. And it had to persuade John that fighting with his best friend was worth it, because it meant protecting the innocent. "No, I'm not alright." he admitted. John turned to look to him. "I'm sorry?" "When you came here, you asked me if I'm alright. I said I am. I lied." John started walking to the door. He was too cranky to listen to Mycroft complain. "They're starving me, John!" he called. John froze. "They let me eat one slice of bread a day, and provide me with one glass of water. All I have to do is to read the same five books – over and over again. I already know them by heart. I need your help. And if you can't get me out, kill me. I've already considered killing myself, but there's nothing I can use in order to do so." The doctor turned back to look at his best friend's older brother. He looked ill and desperate. For the first time, he didn't even try to look strong or immune. He was too tired to do so. Lestrade wasn't kidding when he mentioned Mycroft is being tortured. "They're planning to torture you for a little longer, and then to tell you that it'll all be over if you'll admit everything." "I know." "If you'll admit it, you will lose Sherlock. Forever." "I know." he said heavily. "I'll try to get you some food." The doctor promised, and then left before he'll regret what he'd just said.