A/N- You'll notice in this that Sebby's my comic relief. The more I write him, the more I love him! And he's going to be a major part in it.
John woke with a pounding headache. "Where… am I?" he muttered to himself, upset when his words slurred together. Oh, of course. That lady drugged me, and Moriarty- Moriarty! Where's Sherlock?
"Ah, awake, dear?" Moriarty's singsong voice drifted into John's mind.
The doctor looked up painfully and saw the psychopath standing over him. Huh, I'm shorter than usual compared with him… Right. I must be tied up somehow. Yes, I can't move my hands. Chained to the wall. Oh, god, my head hurts.
"A bit groggy, are we?" Moriarty said snidely, kneeling next to the doctor.
"Sherlock," John replied. In his cluttered and drugged mind, it was a perfectly reasonable response. I have to know where he is. Do you have him somewhere? Can I see him?
"Ah, talks of his lover," Moriarty sang, standing up and spinning around.
"We're not-"
"I know, I know," Moriarty said. "Now, where were you? You miss him?"
John sighed, trying to clear his head. He propped himself up to a sitting position. "Uh… why me?"
"Forgotten already?" Moriarty gasped in mock surprise. "Well, you were pretty heavily drugged, I suppose. I need you to lure Sherlock to me."
"No!" John's voice cracked. I said that louder than I should have, didn't I? "No, that's a really bad idea. He-he doesn't care about me, see?" John quickly tried to convince Moriarty not to take Sherlock. "He won't even show up, so how about you untie me and let me go, huh?"
"Hmmm. Methinks not," Moriarty said with a smile. "And you're wrong, he does care about you." He pulled out his phone and tapped in a message, then showed it to John. It was sent to Sherlock.
I heard you've lost your pet. I've got him, if you want him back.
"No…" John breathed.
In moments, Sherlock had responded.
Where the hell have you got him? If you dare touch him, I shall kill you slowly.
"Touching, isn't it?" Moriarty grinned.
John gritted his teeth. Lunatic. "Yeah, lovely."
"Now, shall I tell him where we are?" asked Moriarty.
"No, no, no, please don't… It'll be all my fault if he shows up and you just…" John's voice trailed off. "This is a complicated trap."
"Hm, indeed," Moriarty replied. "Now, you want Sherlock to stay away? You'll sacrifice whatever I want to keep him safe?"
"Yeah. Yes, I will," John said firmly.
Moriarty smirked. "Let's see if you still feel that way once Sebby's done with you. Oh, Sebastian!" he called.
The blonde gunman peeked around the door. "Huh?" In his hand was a cup of coffee. "Oh, he's come around!"
"Yes, I have," John spat. "Where am I, and what are you going to do with me?"
"Feisty," Sebastian commented.
"Seb! Keep on task," Moriarty commanded.
"Right," Seb said, lowering his voice slightly. "We're in a Jim-place… I think it's the Abbey of Saint Clair, but not the new one, the old dusty one…"
"Continue," John said.
"And… Jim, what am I gonna do with him?" Seb asked, turning to Moriarty.
"Oh," Moriarty said. "Just something with your knife."
"Uh, which one?" Seb asked. "I have, like, eighty thousand, you know."
"Any of them!" Moriarty exclaimed, annoyed with Sebastian.
The gunman stepped out of the room momentarily.
John sighed. "You're going to stab me?"
"No," Moriarty said, kneeling down again. "More like… Seb, scratch that. You don't need a knife."
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Seriously? But I just got-" He held up a long Bowie knife. He sighed, and disappeared around the door again.
"John, have you heard of pressure points?" asked Moriarty.
"Yes, of course I have," John said mechanically, his medical side kicking in. "I'm a doctor. They're areas packed with nerves used for healing in old Japanese and other East Asian customs and also… Oh."
Realization hit John like a bullet.
Moriarty smiled. "Go on, it was such a lovely description."
John felt sick. "And also used to induce extreme pain if manipulated the right way."
A maniacal grin was now decorating Moriarty's face. "Exactly, darling, exactly."
The doctor took a deep breath in. He will not break me, he told himself. Stay strong, John. Just like Afghanistan.
But it wasn't just like Afghanistan, because this time, John was contending with one Jim Moriarty, thus it would be much, much worse.