Okay, the majority has spoken, and no one cares really about the warning thing. Now, since one of you actually said that the warnings tell them whether or not they can read the story, and that's much more important to me than the spoiler risk, I'mma keep it up. Thanks for your input, and of course for all your reviews.

Disclaimer: See chapter one and Chapter Nine for the song.

Warnings: Well, if you read the last chapter, you'll know what will happen, so...

Chapter Ten: ... turned into a really sticky situation

They came for him the next morning. Jim had been awaiting them. It had dawned on him later, after a bottle of really cold water that felt like heaven on earth, that he had completely banned it from his head. The comment Matthew had made. Of course, Jim had understood the underlying threat. But with pain all over his body and trouble to breath and coughing up, he hadn't been able to control his face, and, for a split second only, had shown fear. When he had realized it, later, that his eyes had given him away, and that Matthew must have noticed it, he knew they would come for him. He had time though, time to prepare. Well, as much as you could prepare. Which was surprisingly little. The only thing he could do was decide on what he would do. There were three possibilities he could think of. Number One, spare himself from this act of degradation and give them the information. But, no, that was definitely out of the question. He wouldn't do that. He wanted Mycroft Holmes. Number Two, he had a black belt. He could defend himself. He could go down fighting. The problem was, he would go down, and if he angered them too much it would only fall back on him, and they would hurt him. More than they would anyways. The third option was to do what he had done every time so far: just take it. With a smile, if he could. He wished Sebastian was here. Nobody would come past Sebastian. But he wasn't here, and he would be surprised if Sebastian had started looking for him; after all, Jim had made sure he wouldn't. Or, done his best to make sure. What went on in Sebastian's stubborn head was a different thing, but he knew Seb wouldn't find him here, much less burst in and save him at the last minute. This wasn't Sex and the City after all, where Mr Big had threatened to slap the Russian, had taken Carrie home and they had lived happily ever after… why did he know such things? He got up from the floor and paced through the room, trying to brace himself for what was awaiting him. Tried to think of anything that could get him out of this situation.

But when the door opened, and he saw them entering, he put on his bravest smile and said, "Now, ladies, one at a time, please."

They left him on the floor when they were done. Not once had he screamed out, not once had he shown he was bothered, no tears had run down his cheeks. The only traces of what had happened were the sperm all over his body and the blood on the floor. Come to think about, he had done rather well. Being borderline insane- or in his case, borderline sane- had some advantages after all. There were enough thoughts and torture methods swirling through his head so that he could blank out the abuse that was taking place. He only had to focus when they wanted him to do something, and, well, he had done what was asked of him. Not showing any emotions. He would have time to deal with later, when he was out, with Sebastian close, the only man who would understand him and take revenge in a way those bastards wouldn't even dream of. Right now, he had to put on a brave face. And as he was lying there, smelling like other men, he knew Sebastian would avenge him. And oh, did he look forward to witnessing it. It would be the first thing, after healing, of course, he would do once he was out. Send Sebastian. But right now, he had to focus, forget this… inconvenience, and focus. He still wanted to get to Mycroft. And he needed to. This could not have been in vain. All this pain and humiliation, it just had to lead to something.

The door opened. It was Nancy. She was carrying the usual tray, stodge and no spoon. She put it down at his feet and looked at him, scanning his body. "No sex talk today? Funny though. I remember the first time I was here, you told me you could stick your cock between my legs, thrust up to four times, and I would have a hard time getting over it. Well, I think the tables have been turned now, haven't they? How long will it take you to get over this? Being violated by five men… No, no, STOP!"

Jim, like a cat, had jumped onto her, ignoring the pain in his lower regions and had wrestled her down within seconds, "You think I am broken? Well, forget that, lady. I can still get it up, and believe me, you will feel that now." He had no intention of doing it. Still not. But he could at least, until someone came in, give her a good fright, pay them back for what they had done to him. He ripped her blouse open, breaking her necklace in the process, and hissed, "I hope you will enjoy it just as much as I will."

The door flung open again and he was pulled off her, received a few punches in the face and was slammedhard against the wall, before Christian help Nancy stand up and guided the sobbing woman outside.

Jim chuckled; now, that brave face had dropped quite fast. He looked down at the floor and picked up one of the diamonds from the destroyed necklace. Wow, there was somebody who loved her! This diamond, even to Jim's tired eyes, was absolute perfection. He smiled. If he could hide that one, he would offer it to Sebastian. Or Sherlock, maybe. Sherlock… He looked at the diamond in his hand, then at the mirror. And his smile came back. Oh, he would get Mycroft. It would have been worth it. He got up and limped over to the mirror. Or, he tried to. His legs were giving in, and he had to steady himself on the wall. Well, the wall would do. For starters. He held the diamond between his index and thumb and started scratching the wall. He was an idiot. Mrs York had worn the necklace on the first day she had entered the cell. He could have ended this much sooner. But it would end now. He had hit rock bottom. And from there, there was only one direction in which he could go. Back up.

Mycroft was sitting in his favourite chair at the Diogenes Club when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He was hoping for an answer from Sherlock. Apparently his younger brother had managed to sneak into Baskerville, with his ID. Lord knew how he had done that, but Mycroft had learned early enough that the door that could stop Sherlock had yet to be invented. Actually Mycroft was planning on inventing it. But this text didn't come from Sherlock. It was from Joel.

Situation. You need to come. – JJ

Mycroft knew it was something serious. Joel, or any other of the guys for that matter, would never tell him to come unless it was absolutely necessary. If they had killed Moriarty now… He grinded his teeth and got up.

Within half an hour, he arrived. Joel was waiting for him, "Sir, we…"

"What happened? Did he die?"

"No, sir, he's fine. He… he did something. When Nancy entered yesterday, with the food, he attacked her. Don't worry, she's fine. Shaken, a bit, I'm sure, but she's tough. She'll get over it. Well, during the fight her diamond necklace broke. She only noticed when she was at home that it was gone. Moriarty has apparently used one of the diamonds to… scratch something on the walls of his cell."

"What did he scratch, then?" Mycroft was impatient.

"Sherlock." Joel responded. "All over the cell. On the mirror."

Mycroft's face remained calm as he said, "Get him to the showers. Give him something good to eat. Something to drink. Tell him I will meet him in two hours. Prepare the room." He then dismissed Joel and went into the room he used to watch Jim from. Joel hadn't overreacted when he had said 'all over the cell'. His brother's name flashed at Mycroft from every possible angle. The most catching though was the one Moriarty had apparently scratched into the mirror- mirror writing even, so that Mycroft could read it. It wasn't so much something Moriarty had done to pass time; he was calling Mycroft. He could as well have scribbled his phone number on the mirror with the words CALL ME and a smiley face; it would have had the same effect. Well, no. Mycroft didn't react to smiley faces. But he reacted to this. This was a threat at Sherlock. Moriarty was not a 14-year-old girl writing Justin Bieber's name all over the walls of her bedroom. Moriarty was a criminal, and apparently he was obsessed with Sherlock, which was as good as a threat. Mycroft had been okay with it so far; after all, his brother was a grown-up, and he could defend himself. Plus, he had John, and while Mycroft still wasn't too sure about the status of his brother's relationship to John, he was dead sure that John could and would watch over Sherlock. He was quite bad-ass. Well, it had been the case until now, because, until now, James Moriarty was just some criminal who happened to like giving Sherlock some extra work. But now… Mycroft ran his fingers over the letters. James Moriarty seemed to harbour a rather unhealthy obsession with the two brothers. And if there was one thing Mycroft didn't like, it was people having an obsession with his brother and a magic key code. Although, he really did not need that code to enter Baker Street. Mycroft turned away from the mirror and sat down. He felt a migraine coming. The second this month. The first had come when Moriarty had written him the Bond Air text. And now, he was in for the second, again caused by Moriarty. He should really get rid of this man.

Now, he watched as Joel entered the cell and spoke to Moriarty. Moriarty got up and walked… no limped, towards the door. Limping. He's hurt. Why would he be hurt? He doesn't accept Joel's hand, yet he's limping. Something has happened here. Mycroft moaned and messaged his temples. He hated not being informed on things that happened here. Or, asked for permission. He was not an idiot; he knew what had happened to Moriarty, and he didn't like it the least bit. That was just something you didn't do to other people. He knew it happened in prison on a daily basis, but this was not prison, and he didn't want things like these to happen here. He would have to talk to Joel and Matthew. Oh God, this day was getting worse by the minute. He needed vacation. He checked his watch. One hour and 52 minutes till the interview. He needed to get prepared.

I actually didn't want to go down that route, it has been done before by people who are much better writers than I am, but you all waited for Jim to break, and, well, I guess this is the one thing that would bring him closest. Hope I didn't disappoint anyone. And, this chapter has not been BETA'ed, so any mistakes are mine. :)