"There is nothing I can do!"
"Sherlock, we need more information. Jedi are not assassins, but perhaps with proof we can force the Watson's out…"
"Master, there is nothing we can do." Sherlock said shortly. "This planet is under the influence of the Sith, I cannot change that with evidence for the senate." The heated discussion had been going on for hours. Master Windu was not giving him an out.
There was a sigh from the other end of the hologram. "Can you take Moran prisoner?"
Sherlock hesitated. "Send Mycroft to collect John and perhaps." He said quietly. "But I doubt we can hold him for long…"
"Do you require any other assistance?" Windu asked shortly.
"No." Sherlock snapped. "They will only get in my way." He clicked off the comm with a short sigh, John would be angry with him. He clicked the comm back on. "At the end of the week. My padawan is still useful for the next few days." Again it went off.
Sherlock ran a hand through his dark hair. The same nightmare had tormented him the night previously. He had died by his own hands, too much energy had been ripped from him. He cursed.
"Master?" John peeked into the small kitchen worriedly. "You okay?"
"Yes." Sherlock said harshly. "Go work on your lessons."
"I've finished." The small boy clicked his bare feet together nervously. He had felt fear across Sherlock's half of the bond. His master was never afraid.
"Where is Mrs. Hudson?"
The child scowled as his handler was mentioned. "Out."
Sherlock sighed and pushed himself away from the table, John scampered out of his way as his master shoved his way into the hall. John gaped at him. "Sure nothing's wrong?"
Sherlock wrestled with his emotions. Part of him wanted to make the most of his time with John, especially if it was his last. The other part wanted to disregard the child entirely, divorcing himself from all emotions. John seemed to sense the worse part of him and slumped against the wall.
The child mumbled something along the lines of going outside. Sherlock waved him away. The boy gave a pitiful "yes, Master" and darted away. Sherlock pressed hands under his chin.
The boy.
He didn't want to leave the boy. John wasn't ready to be without him, he wasn't ready to be without John. Even in death he was sure he'd still ache for his padawan, but John would have to continue, where Sherlock would have simply passed.
He punched through the wall with a cry of outrage. It wasn't fair to John. It wasn't fair to him.
Sherlock had gotten on fine without Lestrade. Although they had been together fifteen years, and the boy was what kept him from going insane.
The boy.
Sherlock felt a small hand on his shoulder, he twisted around to see a very frightened John staring at him. The boy swallowed. "M-my toy is d-down…" His voice trailed away. Today he looked so small, so frail. John sniffled, then sneezed.
"Little one." Sherlock said with concern.
"Sick." He muttered. "Stupid. I took medicine for it. I'm fine."
A violent red was flushed deep into his cheeks, the child's neck was a sickly white, and as the elder pressed a hand to the smooth brow he felt the effects of a fever bursting through. He picked his padawan up carefully. "Why didn't you come to me?"
"Busy." The boy mumbled. "Good medical practice."
"How long?"
"Three days." The child was exhausted, he couldn't even properly cling to Sherlock. Three days had been the time that passed since John had saved Sarah. He lay limp in his master's arms.
Three days?
How had he not noticed?
John had been going to bed earlier, eating less, reluctant to train, was he really so blind? Sherlock laid his padawan on the couch and fetched him some water. John held the drink bowl in his hands, but didn't drink.
Sore throat.
Sherlock held it for the little boy and pressed it insistently against his lips. John drank halfheartedly. "Hurts." He said hoarsely.
"Drink." Sherlock commanded.
John obeyed, trusting that it would make him better. Sherlock cradled the child's head as he drank, John nuzzled his palm when it was finished. Sherlock dropped the bowl aimlessly on the table. John whimpered as the physical connection broke. He watched Sherlock search the flat for a blanket.
"Master, you don't hafta… I mean if you'd rather…" John broke into a coughing fit, Sherlock gave him a pained look.
"Shut up, John. I want to be here." He found the blanket at last and placed it over top the shivering mass. John pulled the corners around himself gratefully. Sherlock frowned. "Do you want me here?"
"Ah ha." The boy muttered solemnly. He tugged Sherlock's sleeve. "You're not allowed to leave."
Sherlock smiled, he pulled John's slight form onto his chest and held him. John had snot running from his nose in the most unattractive fashion. Sherlock patted his boy's back as he started towards the restroom. A bath would do John good.
Sherlock pulled the tunic and pants away from the overheated boy, but left his trousers on. Sherlock removed his own outer dress and scooped the child up. His brand lay hidden beneath his trousers. Together they lay in a bath, John buried his head under the nape of his master's neck.
"I thought you were mad that I was sick." John mumbled. "I thought you were bored with me."
"Why-?"
"You didn't talk to me for the last two days, Master." The child coughed viscously against the strong chest.
"You know how I get." His master said angrily. "Don't be…"
"Forgive me." His padawan said swiftly. Sherlock submerged the lower half of John's body into the icy water. His boy whimpered. "Shhh, you're okay. It helps…"
"With the fever." John giggled. "I know. I still want to become a healer, Master."
Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear softly. John squirmed in the elder's arms, he quieted shortly after. His sickness was lulling him into sleep. Sherlock pressed the little being closer to him, his padawan's fever became cooled by the water.
"Did you ever meet Moriarty again?" John asked, looking for a story.
"Of course I did. You don't think he'd let me go so easily, do you?" Sherlock reply shortly.
"What happened?"
"First time after that was when I was fourteen." Sherlock stroked John's back. "Lestrade and I were separated on the planet Kadavo, one of the slavers there recognized the brand and conntacted my owner via hologram."
John's nose wrinkled. "He isn't your…"
"Padawan, he is. All the paper work was legal, he paid my father, I was in all technicalities stolen by Lestrade, and my papers were never transferred. I am still…"
"You never told me you had a brand." The boy cut him off.
"All slaves bare their owner's brand, little one." Sherlock said quietly. He unconsciously pulled John closer. "Lestrade managed to get me out in time."
John felt himself being dragged out of tub, he continued to lean into his master's hold. Sherlock was putting him to bed, John reached to him. Sherlock scooted onto the mattress with his boy. "Tell me an adventure story." He yawned. "With you and Grandpa."
Lately John had been referring to Lestrade as "Grandpa" and not "Master". Somehow Sherlock doubted his master would have minded.
"Little one…"
"Did you ever save him? John asked eagerly. "I bet you did."
Sherlock had to promise to give him a dream vision before the little boy would even think of sleeping. John curled onto his chest as if refusing to let the older man leave. Sherlock's ear was nipped lightly as John fell into a welcomed sleep.
A time when he had save Lestrade, he had just the one.
oOo
Kriffing Dooku.
His plan, his kriffing plan, had back fired completely.
To be fair it had been Lestrade's fault, but Sherlock could not make himself angry at his master. The thick idiot had gotten wind of Dooku's plot to use Sherlock for bait for the Sith and even worse he had gotten wind of Sherlock's agreement. Sherlock was just about to be handed off to the slavers when Lestrade freed him, shoved him out of the quarters, and was taken prisoner himself.
The seventeen year old cursed violently.
The teen had managed to track the group of thugs without alerting them to his presences. He didn't tell Dooku of his plan, the man had already messed up enough in his life. Sherlock reached out to his master and was swiftly snubbed out. Sherlock scowled.
Master.
Go home.
Not without you. This is my fault.
You are damn right it's your fault. Go home, wait for me. Do not approach this planet, Curly.
Master I won't let…
Sherlock, I can't escape if I'm worried about my brat of a padawan. Go home.
When you're safe I will.
Sherlock shielded from his master uneasily. He didn't like to be cut off from the older man, but Lestrade would only pester him into insanity. Sherlock felt the probing of his shields as he landed his craft in a small thicket. Lestrade's mind broke into his.
GO HOME!
You will have to force me, Master. The simple reply.
Do not put that in front of me, Sherlock. I am giving you a direct order.
Master, Moriarty…
All the more reason for you to go. Sherlock in every legal sense you are still his. Please, kid. I am begging you to go home.
You don't know, Master. You don't what he'll do to you.
Listen to me, I don't care. I don't want him to…
Sherlock watched from a hillside as Lestrade was pushed roughly out of the back of the pod. His arms were bound behind him and to Sherlock's dismay there was a collar being tightened around his neck. Lestrade's captors shoved him towards the base.
Sherlock's mind raced as he slid down the hillside, dirt clinging to his pant legs as he skimmed the earthy surface. Sherlock raced to the opening, praying protocol was the same as it had been seven years previous. He pounded on the side door. Another slave with dark brown eyes slid the panel opened. He glanced Sherlock up and down with a cold glance.
"Master didn't send anyone out this morning." He said in a monotone.
"Idiot lesser rank." Sherlock hissed. He flashed his brand to the older boy. "I am helping with the prisoner, they forgot to disarm him. But if you want to be the one to tell Ma…"
The door swung open with the boy stuttering apologies and flinching terribly. It hurt Sherlock to see the older boy tremble before him, he scowled. "You are lucky I do not have time to punish you." He swept pass him swiftly, his eyes sweeping for the direction his master's captors went. His movements were rapid.
He slid into the chamber unseen, to his horror the room was recognizable.
The punishment room.
He needed to get Lestrade out and quickly.
Quietly he ducked behind a control panel designed to monitor the slave's reactions. Lestrade was being strapped onto a barbwired grate, his shirt was torn from him, and the others began hooking wires up to him. Lestrade snorted. He gave a snarky comment about bed side manner and was struck hard across the face. Sherlock snuffed out a snarl.
Lestrade chuckled. "Well now I'm only giving you three stars."
Master, please.
Sherlock waited until they finished securing thick chains around his wrists, hanging them over his head, his back still pressed into the barbwire. His master had the nerve to look completely indifferent, bored even. The last slave noticed and with a small smirk punched the older man in the stomach. Lestrade's back pressed into the jabs, at last the old man flinched. It took all of Sherlock's will power not to run to his elder. He waited until the last slave was gone.
"Master." He huffed when the captors were gone. "They could have hurt you for such comments."
"Speaking out of turn." Lestrade sighed. "Wonder where I learnt that from."
"You forget, Master. I was the impressionable one, you taught me."
"Impressionable my left nut." His master snorted. "If you ever followed anything I said the universe would surly collapse in shock. Come free your old man. I can't shake this ache in back."
Sherlock smiled until Lestrade informed how grounded he was. The teen shook his dark head as reached to undo the collar. A loud crack and the feeling of electricity shot through the young Jedi's hand. He recoiled as Lestrade strained in his bonds.
"Kid!"
"I'm okay!" Sherlock shook his hand. "Ray shields. Should have seen them. Stupid, stupid, stupid." He kicked over a small cart droid.
"Calm yourself, Curly." His master said sternly. "It's alright, go to the ship. I think I can…"
"Master, please. You have a Force inhibiter on, you can't free yourself." Sherlock sucked on his singed hand angrily. The elder raised his eyebrows.
"Do you doubt your master, brat?" He asked snidely.
Sherlock cocked his head. "Will my punishment increase if I answer truthfully, dearest Master?"
"Weeellllll I'd say you already in for the punishment of your life." A sing song voice proclaimed. "You've been very naughty, Sherlock. Very naughty indeed."
Sherlock's face crumpled as the voice grew louder and more joyful. He took several steps back, pressing his back deep into a wall. Instinctively he drew his hands behind his back and looked down. Lestrade blanched.
"Sherlock, run! Get back into the ship now!" He shouted, his wrist turned a violent red as he struggled against his bonds. Sherlock only cowered. "Please, kid. Remember, remember you've been mine for longer."
The teen glanced at him fearfully. He had been Moriarty's for six years, but Lestrade had him for seven years now. He took a deep breath and stumbled towards the controls. He glared into the brown eyes challengingly. "I am not leaving you."
"Sherlock so help me Force, leave!" His master shouted.
Sherlock ignored his mentor as he managed to bring down the ray shields. He could barely make out his name being screamed, when a hand came crashing down around his throat. The teen gasped as he was shoved deep into a wall, his owner's hand tightened around the young wind pipe.
"He's cute, Sherlock dear. I can see why you keep him around." The black eyed Sith threw Lestrade a seductive glance. The knight snarled at him heatedly. "Oh stop you. I need to discipline a run away." He glared back to Sherlock. "Dearest you have grown. Still wetting the bed at night? Or did I manage to beat that out of you?"
Sherlock struggled for breath. "Get off." He hissed.
"Oh, well you aren't being nice to your master are you?"
"Don't be stupid, I was trying to free him when you came- oof!" Pain bloomed in his stomach as the Sith punched him, Sherlock countered the attack by releasing air so as not to be winded. He glanced at Lestrade, who renewed his struggles. "'M okay, Teacher." He said softly.
Teacher, Sherlock enjoyed calling Lestrade that more than Master. It was less formal, as was referring to one's father as dad, and Sherlock liked it because it wasn't a term of ownership. Lestrade cast Moriarty a dark look, but remained silent. Begging wasn't going to help them.
"You stole from me, don't give me that rude look." Moriarty taunted as he released Sherlock. The teen slid gracelessly to the floor. The Sith sauntered over to Lestrade happily. "That was my property you took."
"For Force sake he was a little boy, not your kriffing play thing." Lestrade snarled.
"Everything on this planet is my kriffing play toy, Master Jedi." Moriarty giggled. "And right now that includes you." He slow reached for a remote that sat on the control panel. Sherlock lunged and tackled his former master beneath him, but the Sith knocked him off with a small flick of the wrist. He collided with the wall next to his master.
"Sherlock, get up." He said firmly. The padawan glanced at the master painfully.
"Yes, Teacher." He staggered to his feet, Moriarty raised an impressed eyebrow.
"So he does obey someone."
Sherlock scowled, but his master cut him off. "Don't get used to it."
Moriarty fiddled with his remote. "So it seems I've found your leash." He glared at his slave. "I warned you once what happens when you feel affection for something, did I not?"
Sherlock snarled. "Buggar off, you boring sack of po…"
Moriarty pressed down on the remote and several volts of electricity pulsed through Lestrade's body. The elder man arched his back reflexively, but did not cry out. Sherlock made a move towards him, but was stilled by a sharp glance. Moriarty cocked an eyebrow.
"Apologize."
"Ignorant sod." Sherlock snapped.
A dial was twisted slightly and the button was pushed again. Lestrade let a loud small, pained exhale, his body thrashed, but he did not scream. Sherlock glared at Moriarty.
"Stop."
Twist. Pushed.
Lestrade threw his head back into the barbwire. Blood coursed down his back.
"Stop it, damn you!"
Twist. Pushed.
Drool began to course down the elder's chin. A small groan pushed itself through his lips.
"Damn it! Stop it!"
Twi-.
"Please!" Sherlock threw himself between his mentor and his owner, as though it would save Lestrade. "Please, I'm sorry. Don't hurt him anymore, please."
Moriarty frowned. "Ah. Now you've become boring." He sighed heavily, burdened by boredom. "You'd do anything to save him I suppose? Hmm? Tell me I'm wrong."
"Leave him alone, alright? He's dull anyway." Sherlock didn't look at the elder. "Not a hint of dark in him. You would have been bored to tears with how he handles things. Nowhere near worthy of the attention of a Sith lord."
Lestrade kicked his padawan stoutly in the buttocks. Sherlock hissed.
"Well, well, perhaps we should give him a taste of what Sith powers entail, hmmm?"
"Oh very good, Sherlock. I hope this is all part of your brill-." Lestrade threw his head back as body shook and shouted in pain. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, fresh tears coursed down his cheeks. His back began smoking as the flesh sizzled with electricity. "Kriff it, that hurt." He muttered. He glanced to Sherlock's white face. "I'm okay, kid. Really."
Sherlock didn't believe him for a second.
"No dark thoughts?" Moriarty tutted. "Liar, liar." He touched Lestrade's chest, Sherlock made a frantic movement towards him, but was stopped as shadows snatched his ankles. Moriarty giggled. "You never stayed around to learn that." The darkness ran up the Sith's hand and forced its way into Lestrade's heart. The elder man's body arched with a soft groan. He slumped forward. The shadows began pulling Sherlock to his knees, he struggled viscously as Lestrade's eyes turn a sick black, Moriarty grinned.
"Your friend has known a woman, very naughty indeed, but quite the pretty thing. Oh look Sherlock dear, there is even hatred in his heart. And reserved only for me, how sweet. What else, what else? No jealousy, no he is a good boy there. Oh he's quite angry at your disobedience, especially now."
"You're wrong." Lestrade croaked.
Moriarty twisted his hand, causing the older man to blink back tears. "What did you say?"
The Jedi chuckled. "I am not mad at my padawan. Never. I made a promise, didn't I, kid? I don't want him here, I'm disappointed that he didn't listen to me, but I will never be cross with my boy."
The Sith's eyes darkened. "Love is forbidden by your own council."
"Oh don't go preaching to me, wise arse. Your side forbids it too. Only things he was allowed to feel with you was loyalty and anger. Now why don't you go fuck off, before I get really pissed."
Swearing in the basic language was taboo. Sherlock gave a sharp into of breath as Lestrade winked at him. The hand shot away from the Jedi's chest as light engulfed the black. "And I don't love my padawan, he's a proper git." Lestrade crossed his fingers when the Sith turned to resnatch his remote. Sherlock grinned until the elder screamed in pain as more volts coursed through him.
"I do have one more thing to show you, dear Jedi. If you'd be so willing."
"Well given the choice- Ack poodoo!" He shouted at the end.
"Mas…" Moriarty raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's forming sentence. There was no denying the term "master" in this Hell was meant for Moriarty. "Teacher." Sherlock felt sick.
"Give him a taste, Sherlock. Just a taste of the power a Sith has over pesky padawans. Kneel at his feet." Moriarty grinned cruelly, knowing Lestrade would never accept it. The love they shared was evident, the Jedi would never accept the act of his padawan humbling himself.
"Don't you dare." He shot his padawan a challenging look. "We've discussed this, Curly. Don't even think-."
Another cry of pain pushed through the elder as the shocks became more aggressive. Sherlock shot Moriarty a look of hatred. "Teacher…"
"Don't...padawan…don't."
Moriarty ran his finger over the button menacingly, but Sherlock stilled the Sith as he dropped to his knees before Lestrade. "Arsehole. If anyone's a proper git it's you, Teacher. You got yourself kidnapped, we had a plan." The teen kowtowed, but instead of resting his forehead on the floor he nuzzled the elder's boots.
"You stupid Gorian, quit cuddling me. You've already bloody scented me enough."
"Up yours, you senile old fart."
Moriarty's eyes narrowed, slowly he approached the bickering pair, bracing to break them apart.
"Again with the old! I'm not that old, immature brat!"
"Teacher!"
"Vatican cameos!"
The teen twisted round and stabbed the Sith deep into the knee with his boot knife, as Lestrade kicked him fully in the chest. The black eyed man fell backwards with his former padawan lunging at him. The teen buried his knife into the Sith's chest until the hilt was the only thing sticking out. The proxy drone flickered and fade. The image of Moriarty's surprised face flashed across the droid and died.
Sherlock kicked it aside.
Lestrade gaped. "How did you know…?"
"He was too nice." Sherlock muttered. He undid his master's collar swiftly, the chains unclicked themselves the minute the elder was free. He pulled Sherlock against him, ignoring the squirm of protest. Lestrade nipped his ear lightly.
"Master, am I really grounded?"
"Yes."
"Balls."