John sat up trying to wrap his mind around the last thing Trevor had just said, "Yeah?" he said neutrally. "Why is that?"
"Your boyfriend, Fuckcroft sent this up, dinnt he? What's he offering, then?"
John felt he should stand for this part and moved to get up off the floor. Trevor wasn't stupid. He'd seen right through their ploy. He placed a steadying hand on the bunk over Trevor's head and took a deep breath. All of Mycroft's master plan boiled down to this moment. He had to convince Trevor to give up Moran's location. If he couldn't pull this off, the whole thing would crash like a boulder thrown through rotting floorboards.
John ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face. He felt stubble and two days worth of sweat and dust gathered on his cheeks and chin as he did so and wanted nothing more than a cool shower and a good breakfast. But, before he got any of that, he had to accomplish this first.
"Look Trevor," he began. "I've only been here a day and I can't believe how bad it is. It's uncomfortable, brutal, terrifying and I'm sure staying here much longer would kill me in a very short time. I am very impressed you've managed to survive for as long as you have. You're strong, Trev, hellishly strong but I don't think you've got it in you to last much longer here."
Trevor stared at him. He said nothing, he didn't nod or look away, he simply looked at John.
John cleared his throat. I heard you breathing last night, mate. You've got something in your lungs. Without an x-ray and some tests, I can't say for sure but it means you've got to get some real treatment if you'd like to be around much longer."
"You've got a solution for that, do ya?" Trevor asked evenly. John couldn't read him. He didn't appear angry or even excited. It must be a survival technique he'd perfected not to get his hopes up. For a man like Trevor, holding out hope for something was an easy way to die. He lived by his own wits, and he got by on what he provided for himself. John was going to have show Trevor a way he could extract himself from this prison without endangering himself.
"Look, bottom line is you will not last another year in here much less your full sentence. You're still a relatively young man. Hell, you're only a few years older than me. I can get you out now but there needs to be an exchange."
"An eye for an eye, so to speak?" Trevor answered him. "I give you what you want and I get to leave?"
"Yes. If you know why I'm here, then you know what I want in exchange for getting you out."
"I can't cross him, Doc," Trevor said and got off his bunk. "Moriarty or Moran, doesn't matter they are one and the same. If I give either of them up, I'd be dead the minute I got out."
Trevor made his wobbly way over to the corner and used o the chamber pot while John tried to look the other way. He remembered that he'd always felt at ease around Trevor. They had a relaxed way between them even when they served together. Trevor's betrayal two years ago had been a real punch to the gut for John and he'd never reconciled the trustworthy Trevor he'd served in the army with the man that had turned soulless mercenary. They used to be such good mates. He missed having real friends.
Suddenly, a memory resurfaced of him and Sherlock chasing the golem through the underground tunnels of London. They'd stopped to catch their breath after seeing his massive shadow and they'd locked eyes for a moment. Total trust and understanding flooded through them. John had his gun and Sherlock has his wits, and together they knew they could take the monstrous man. John could see perfect understanding written in the set of their shoulders, their quiet determination to get their man and their unfettered appreciation for one another. John couldn't remember really admiring anyone else as much as he admired Sherlock. They had been best mates, the best he'd ever had. He realized that he wanted that back. He wanted someone he could trust and be in perfect sync with. If only he could trust Sherlock ever again.
But before he could ever happen, he had to put his life back on course. The only way to do that was to get out from under Moriatry's reach. "I can offer you a suspended sentence for time served if you give us his location. You'd be out of here in a couple of days. I'm also authorized to offer you transportation to any country in the world except the UK. You've been given a lifetime ban from the United Kingdom but you can still go to Canada and Australia. Hell, you can even go to the states. I've been living there and I quite liked it."
"Lifetime ban," Trevor muttered under his breath absorbing that. He turned back to John. "I don't ever get to go back home?" he asked a little plaintively. "Guessed that for myself. But even so, that's quite generous, Doc."
"Trevor, look," John said getting the feeling he might be losing the man. "You'd be given 50,000 dollars to start over, and a new identity. You can get treatment. If your intel is good, you get to start over. We'll get to take down Moriarty's network and you'll get live your life free of being of either Moriarty's or Mycr…. Uh, you-know-who's shadow." John finished gamely. He fought the impulse to giggle at the Voldemort reference as he often thought of Mycroft as a dark, bloated menace the last few years.
"This is nothing," Trevor said beating his chest with a bravado John didn't believe at all. "I won't die of a cough…" and here Trevor laughed until he began coughing. He coughed so hard he bent nearly double. He finished finally but John noticed he put a hand up to his chest and his face looked full of pain. He managed a weak smile, "You were saying, Doc?"
"You sound like you've got an infection along with other issues. Trevor, even as a doctor, I can't do much without equipment and medicine here, but I can treat you on the outside. Hell, I'll be your personal physician if you give me the intel I need." And, John meant it. He'd make sure the man got what he needed to fight whatever he had going on in his lungs. He hoped it wasn't serious but he wouldn't know until he had access to medical equipment.
Trevor leaned near enough so that John could feel his warm, liquor soaked breath on his face and said, "I'll give it some thought. Until then, you're gonna have to enjoy a little more of St. Pete's hospitality. I'll let you know by sundown today what I'll do." He broke away and opened the cell door. Taking a deep breath, he marched out into the hallway with John following at his heels.
John hoped he could hold out another ten hours in his miserable place.