Thanks for all your reviews, guys. Feel free to continue ;)

Disclaimer: See chapter one plus, title of this chapter from Eminem's Mockingbird.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, violence, torture.

Chapter Four: And if that mockingbird don't sing….

They had turned the lights off at some point. Jim had remained on his knees, despite the pain. God, this was brutal. His legs were stinging. He actually felt a bit of sympathy for all the people he had bound like this throughout his career. He shifted a bit, but really, it didn't make much difference. He wondered what Sebastian was doing now. And Sherlock, of course. He wondered if Sherlock knew that his brother had him in custody. Or was he still trying to figure out where Adler had gone? Lord knew what it was about the chick that made man and women equally long for her. Yes, she was beautiful, sexy, tough, and a manipulative bitch, and Jim had enjoyed working with her, if only to keep Sherlock busy. But that was it. Okay, okay, she was quite good in bed. She knew all the things men liked, and she wasn't afraid to use them. Okay, maybe Jim knew why she was so popular. Of course, Sherlock hadn't fallen for her. He was an idiot. He didn't know what he missed out on. He smiled, thinking of his night with Irene. In contrast to Sherlock, Jim thoroughly enjoyed sex, if only as a distraction from the usual boredom. Of course, most of the women who fluttered their eyelashes at him were boring as well. Adler had been different, which was probably why he had enjoyed that night. Two powerful people enjoying themselves. Jim had had lots of women; somehow, they dug him. He had never really understood why; he wasn't particularly tall, not especially good-looking, at least by the standards of society that favoured tall, blonde people. Sebastian had once told him that it didn't matter that Jim didn't look like a Calvin Klein model; it was that certain something he had that drew women towards him. And Jim could play every role he wanted, he still attracted the girls. "Jim-from-IT" was the best example; he had played the gay part so convincingly and still Molly had been head-over-heels for him, ignoring the "obvious".

He was interrupted in his thoughts when he heard a crack and a humming. Speakers. How predictable. Loud music. Hopefully something classy. Please, no gangsta rap. It's an insult to people like me if those pansies in baggies call themselves gangstas. There was indeed music, though not at a really high volume. Jim knew the song. A lullaby. Now hush little baby don't say word…. What the heck? Then he heard a muttered voice, "No, please, no." And then screams. "NOOOOOOOOOO…." Oh, I get it. They're playing me tapes of other people they have interrogated. He listened with keen interest, trying to figure out what was happening to the poor sod. He heard the tale-telling sounds of a bare hand hitting flesh. Slaps. How boring. The sound soon changed slightly. Fists now. Still boring. The man screamed out like a girl, though, begging them to stop. And there was always this other guy screaming, "WHERE IS IT?" "I don't know what you mean…" The captive whimpered. "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" Another hit. Jim faked a yawn. Boring. If that's everything they got, I really don't have to worry. There was now silence, apart from the song that still played and the sobbing man. Then suddenly, there was another crack, followed by a loud scream. Aha. They've broken a bone. He actually flinched a bit. He was definitely no sissy, but the cracking of bones had always bothered him. Mostly, he had left the room when Sebastian had decided it was time for bones to be broken, just because of the sound and the image of distorted body parts. Sebastian had often joked about it. What did he know? Another crack, another scream. Probably fingers. The man now apparently wept freely, judging by the lame jokes the man made. The song was still playing, but apparently they took a short break from trying to get information out of their victim. Jim listened to their mundane conversation about school uniforms and grilled chicken and the Queen. This continued for quite a long time, until the man had calmed down. Then they asked questions again, in a gentle tone. He just stuttered, that he really didn't know what they were talking about, and, please let me go, I have a family. Jim rolled his eyes. As if they cared. They didn't, they only resumed where they had left of. At least five fingers had been broken by now. He doubted the other five would follow and curse himself. He had eaten with his left hand earlier –or did that happen already yesterday? They knew now that he was left-handed, so, if their plan was to do to him what they did to the man on the tape, they would go for his left hand, most likely. He shrugged and hissed immediately as the handcuffs tore into the already raw skin of his wrists. His shins were raw as well. And the screaming continued. Swishing noises and then cracks. Oh please. A whip? How predictable. He chuckled and wondered if the whip would feel any different from Adler's riding crop. Oh, that had been fun. The woman knew how she could tame men. And yes, it had been as much fun to use it on her as it had been the other way round. Maybe he could get that bad-ass woman who had brought him the food to whip him, so at least both of them would enjoy it… He shook his head at the thoughts. Oh Jim, you're reaching a new level of insanity here. You really shouldn't like that idea so much. They continued with their whip session for about… oh hell, long enough to make the poor man scream utter nonsense and beg for his mummy. He sighed; he was bothered. Not so much because of the violence, but because this man disgusted him. Weakness had always disgusted him. He had witnessed a lot of... sessions Sebastian had held, and he always had found that men who begged for mercy betrayed the image of a gentleman. Sebastian had felt the same, and had developed a charming tendency to hurt those the most that screamed the loudest. Jim thought for a second that Sebastian would have had his fun with this one. The soundtrack would have been better, though. He breathed out and decided that he could as well take a little nap. After all, he was sure that there was nothing on this tape that could possibly keep him remotely interested or, even better, scare him. After the whip, they had totally lost his respect. So he let his head sink on his chest and dozed away.

He woke up when he landed on the floor. The lights were still out, only a dim light bulb from the floor spread some light into the cell. It was enough though so that Jim could see that the men who had just entered were, to say the very least, huge. One of them had knocked him over.

The other one said, "Wakey wakey. Eggs and bakey. Did you enjoy the show?"

Jim only smirked, "What, you mean the little torture session? Booooring."

The man laughed, "Maybe it will stop being boring if you are on the receiving end, what do you think?"

"You think I've never been whipped before? Please, what kind of sex do you have at home?" He was being pulled up roughly. Two man linked arms with him and dragged him out of the cell.

The man who had laughed only murmured, "Oh, how I will enjoy it to wipe that smirk off your ugly face, you little Irish shit."

Joel Johnson, Harry Cooper, Matthew Durkan, Joshua Taylor and Christian Carlisle. Mycroft's best men. He leaned back in his chair, clearly not satisfied. He had hoped to avoid this. He wasn't particularly fond of violence, not that early in the game at least. But James Moriarty was a special case. He hadn't reacted the slightest to the tape, apart from a few smiles every now and then. Smiles. Who the hell smiled at other people being tortured? They had to take a different road with Moriarty. Normally, he would try to scare him so much that they wouldn't even have to resort to violence to get what they wanted. He had seen people cave in and tell them everything when they heard the tape. The cruel images that had played before their eyes had made them confess to everything. It was easy with the ordinary people: fuck with their mind and they would do anything to protect their body. But James Moriarty was different. His mind was unaffected till now, despite the humiliation he had suffered from the hands of Carter and Nancy. Mycroft had spent a sleepless night over the matter, and had decided to change track. Try to break the hard shell first and then use the more psychological manners of interrogation. With his body broken, Moriarty might be more susceptible to being degraded. And these five men were just the right people for the job.

Oh oh.