It was easy really. He had one of his old friends tag along with him, knowing the good ol' Doctor Watson wouldn't simply hand himself over. Sebastian looked over across the room where John sat tied to a chair, bruises starting to swell and bloom across his left shoulder, where he had started the first of his toying. The man was half awake, still trying to fight off the wounds that had just landed a home on his body, while also trying to be rational. Sebastian Moran laughed at his attempts and sat across from the man, running a few nails between his calloused fingertips, relishing his recent advance in the intricate game.

John sat in his plush chair, typing away on his laptop. Sherlock was out on an errand and he really had not much to do as the flat had already been cleaned. They had known they were taking risks with separating and so the great detective didn't leave until he felt they were both prepared.

The army doctor's trusted gun was tucked into the waist of his trousers, and he had a syringe handy containing a sedative that would put an elephant in a deep trance. John had cursed Sherlock for having such drugs always on hand but the argument ended as quickly as it came, only to most likely resurface in the future.

There was a slight creak from the door to the flat below, and John stopped typing. He shut the computer and laid it on the table next to him. Silence. Standing swiftly he pulled his gun out and held it up as he peered around the corner. He wanted to kick himself as that was his first mistake. He was grabbed from behind, his handgun ripped from his grip. 'Ah, there must be two. One to be the distraction and the other to get dirty. Clever.' he guessed as he fought against the arms holding him down.

When the blogger had finally adjusted to the situation he realized he was looking into the cold hard eyes of Sebastian Moran. An army man, a sniper, trained to kill. John Watson had growled when he spun out of his bonds and landed a quick kick to Moran's ribs. A hiss escaped his enemy but he didn't give up as easily John had secretly hoped. From then on they tossed each other about, punches being easily served, one after the other. John fought and fought against this man. He knew the rough villain was getting a bit winded and he mercilessly attacked Sebastian.

That was until the second crook had found the syringe and plunged it deep into John's arm. Bloodied and shocked, the strong Doctor Watson fell into a deep sleep.

Sebastian knew John would give in more if he acted tired. Would forget about his secondhand man. It was all a part of the plan and older man had simply walked into the trap that had been set for him. Now he sat, observing John as he still fought for hope, and struggled against the rope holding him back.

"Doctor Watson. I do think your attempts are worthless and stupid. You're only hurting yourself more. Then again, continue if you wish. You'll leave this room more pained than you are now, I promise." Sebastian continued with rolling the smooth nail across his fingers. Noticing the spark of fear that finally was catching in John's eyes. Oh, Sherlock would come very soon. Just on schedule, he would. He'd follow the game's path, rolling the dice until he reached his destination. Until he reached and rescued John Watson.

"Go to Hell." The doctor spat, eyes narrowing. Moran raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst, and grinned.

"I have to finish my job first. After that, well, doctor's orders! Until I finish...let's entertain ourselves shall we?" and with that he grabbed the nail and plunged it into the man's good shoulder, loving the gritty tactic and the scream that followed it, and always would.

Sherlock should've known Sebastian wouldn't take John down by himself, the blogger was too strong for that. The great detective stood up from where he was examining the footprints that had left their impression in the thin layer of dust that covered the wooden floor. One would think it was only one man that had came into the flat, as only one shoe size was revealed from observation of the tracks. Of course, if you observed more like Sherlock Holmes did, you'd discover a few sets of the prints were uneven, and lopsided. Obviously the shoes in this set were too big for the man that wore them (yes a man). The other set had been even, showing the owner of them would have no trouble squabbling with someone as they were a perfect fit. All in all, there had been two men, not one.

He looked around their flat and knew Mrs. Hudson (The woman had heard the fighting and then the explosion. She got out of the building in time to see her boys drive away to the eldest Holmes' estate. She decided she'd go visit her sister for a week, to cope with this situation, and still wasn't back yet) would be in a right state when she'd see the mess. A bit of blood spattered here and there - no doubt from John's hard punches - scuffed up floor, some pieces of broken glass. Sherlock glanced around once again before thinking to himself, 'John must've really fought hard. Of course he would.' For a few moments the detective stood there, wandering through his mind palace and swimming in his thoughts.

Suddenly the tall lanky man ran from where he stood and escaped out of the door. Once again, thanks to his mind palace, he was able to remember a very important detail. He had remembered how the first day he and John had been driven to Mycroft's mansion he had noticed a vacant flat for rent. After coming home in the same vehicle a few days later, he had seen that the house was now occupied. It was too suspicious not to notice, and with that he clung to that piece of information as he hailed a cab.

He growled the address to the startled cabbie as he hopped in. It was too easy, but of course it was. Sebastian wanted him to find John, who most likely was probably being hurt right at this moment, being toyed with. Sherlock frowned, and thought hard. He was angry at how stupid he had been, angry with how slow it was taking to get to his friend. As he sat in silence ignoring the cabbie's attempts at conversation he decided on something. He was going to get John home, and then, he was going to end Sebastian Moran.

John's throat was raw from the internal scream that had burst from him. He looked down at his shoulder where the nail was still lodged. The army doctor clenched his teeth together, trying to stifle another outburst that would no doubt give Moran the satisfaction he wanted. But then John had a thought : what would it take to give this hardened man satisfaction? His partner in crime was gone, and as much as he tortured or provoked someone...would he ever be satisfied? He shuddered and winced as the slight tremor tweaked his right shoulder. He let his chin fall to his chest as his thought about the damage to the muscles from the nail, the scars from the cuts and bruises.

"You really miss him, don't you? Don't have anyone to kill now that no one's telling you to, eh?" John prodded, feeling like he had nothing to lose.

"Keep your mouth shut or I'll drive another nail in you. And that's just the start." Sebastian retorted, eyes flaming and fists clenching.

"What do I care? Sure you can keep doing this to me but in the end it'll do you no good. You'll always be alone, Sebastian Moran." John said in a low voice. In response Sebastian yelled in frustration and left the dank room. Still tied to the chair with blood dripping down his arm, John Watson smiled. He heard the screech of tires and grinned even more. This was just another precaution they had taken, had practiced.

"John."

"Yes?"

"If you get hurt, taunt him. Distract him, do anything you can. It will slow him down so I can find you, because he'll most likely take you first." Sherlock looked at him hard, needing to know John would take his word and trust what he was told to do.

"Okay, Sherlock, I got it." The blogger replied with honesty. He understood the idea of distraction, and if he needed to, he'd use it. He watched Sherlock shoot him a grin from the door and he smiled as well. "And get some damn milk, would you?" he shouted down to the detective, who would surely forget anyways. He got no response and the door slammed shut. Sillily shaking is head he continued to type away on his computer.

He tried to relax his muscles, let the stress go because he knew that was Sherlock outside. The flatmates both knew Sebastian thought he was on top but really, he wasn't. With that last thought he just sat and listened, waiting for the pains to subside as the frustrated man let off steam in the room down the hall from his.

Okay, I know. I'm terrible, haven't updated in FOREVER. Well shoot you know I had some mean writer's block and my grandma went to the hospital and sports and final projects and tests and okay just screw it all the chapter is here now okaaay! I'm sorry! But I hope you get an email or something saying this story's been updated and you get that excited feeling in your tummy like I do with all 20 billion of the stories I'm following. I will try to update faster (I'll actually try to update with in a week this time!) and please, keep reading, share it, favorite, comment. All support is welcomed and loved! Thanks for sticking with this! I hope you like it! - C