I do not own BBC Sherlock
.o0Sherlock0o.
I grunted, rolling on my side in agony. Moriarty called off the men, leaving me bloodied and crumpled on the floor. My hands where bound securely behind my back, a blind fold blocked out any vision. I was surrounded by darkness, constantly.
"You see Johnny boy, all I want is a little information. Who is that little girl, she's adorable." Moriarty's voice snaked into my ears. He was crouched beside my body. I jerked, breathing heavily.
"My daughter, her mother was a woman I had a tryst with a few years back. She died and Scarlett showed up on my doorstep." I gasped for air, my ribs where bruised and maybe even broken. I felt blood seep from my mouth onto the cold concrete beneath my cheek.
"I want to believe you, I really do. But you see, according to this file the little runt happened to be living in Paris with her father for a few years. Ring any bells? I kept an eye on you, John. You weren't in Paris." Moriarty was grinning as he pulled off my blind fold, his dark eyes lethal. the room was small with one door and completely made of concrete.
"But I know someone who was." He sang, pinching my cheek. I spat on his suit and his eyes narrowed.
"I was so curious who the brat belonged too. Those eyes were just so familiar! You must understand my interest here, they where practically twins! I just had to reunite the family, Irene was in the way." Moriarty stood, turning on his heel flamboyantly.
"You killed Irene Adler." I whispered. He'd killed Irene so that Scarlett would be sent to her true father, she'd been led right to Sherlock. The entire thing was a set up. I dropped my forehead on the concrete with a sob.
"Of course, I did. She didn't want to give me the girl." Moriarty said, inspecting his nail beds. I felt my entire body tense.
"Why would you ever think that she'd give you her daughter?" I grounded out, something was off. I was missing something. It was times like these I wished I was Sherlock, he would have known. Moriarty tsked, lifting me up by the ragged edge of my shirt. He leaned me back on the wall, his hand trailing my chest.
"You're so dull. Think, John. Irene Adler, the only woman in the world who could ever get close to our little Sherlock. I had her practically rape him, and he loved it. You should have heard him moan Johnny boy, I watched it all on DVD. Would you like to see?" Moriarty laughed as I snarled, lurching forward only to fall on my face. Struggling up to my knees, I'd never felt so much hatred for someone in my life.
"I created Scarlett, Irene would never do something so boring as to get pregnant accidentally. The plan was for her to spawn the Holmes child. I'd been hoping for a boy, but hey 'you win some you loose some'. The twerp was supposed to be raised by me, the perfect weapon against the Holmes brothers. Irene had to go all soft and run away to Paris with my creation." Moriarty sighed, I was yelling obscenities. Things I didn't even realize I was saying. But Moriarty kept speaking, his eyes smoldering with delight.
"But that's okay. I had plenty of time, once she becomes my little pet she'll help me to bring the world to it's knees. You have to admit she is sharp, with a little TLC she may even outwit the Holmes brothers. Irene did have some cunning in her weak, pitiful body." Moriarty speculated. I thrashed on the floor, the rage hurt. It hurt so much to be helpless like this.
"You're a monster!" I roared, clawing at my restraints. Moriarty made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat.
"So I've been told." He commented, slithering out of the concrete room.
Days morphed into weeks. Weeks into months. I couldn't tell if I'd been in the room for a month or a year. The walls blocked out any sort of natural light. I had a single light bulb dangling in front of me. Moriarty visited rarely. Only to taunt me, never for any purpose. I was always secured when he entered the room, but released afterwards. I had a small cot they drug in the corner of the room, and a pot to go to the bathroom. Food was brought to be regularly. It was hell. The only thought that kept me go was that it was for Scarlett. Imagining the little girl in my place, crying, begging for me or Sherlock was enough to silence and misgivings I had for days.
"Dinner." A man's gruff voice called. I looked up dazedly, lost in my thoughts. The only thing I had in this hell hole. The beatings had stopped, but if I pissed off the guards they made sure to teach me a lesson. I still had a black eye from the last time I'd tried to make a run for it. I blinked up at this guard, like the rest he was wearing a mask and all black. Moriarty kept his goons well covered up because he knew he could never reuse them if I saw their faces even once.
"You're new." I muttered under my breath, taking the tray. The man looked down at me and I dropped the tray.
"Be quiet." Sherlock whispered, leaning out the door for a moment.
"Bastard bite me! I'll be out in a minute, after I knock his teeth in!" Sherlock's voice was so different. The guard outside chuckled and shut the door. Sherlock turned around wrapping and arm around me. I sobbed, kissing frantically at his mouth.
"Sherlock!" I gasped over and over again between kissing him. I was sure I smelt terrible and hadn't brushed my teeth on anything other than a napkin. But I was beyond embarrassment. Sherlock kissed me tenderly, resting his forehead against mine, my entire body trembled beneath his steady hands.
"You're okay, John? Say you're okay." His eyes, usually so calculated and sure where damp. He was worried about me. I offered a shaky smile as his large, pale hands fluttered up and down my arms, checking for superficial injuries.
"I'm okay." I answered, tucking my head beneath his chin. I pulled him into a hug, just hearing him breath was enough.
"I have to hit you." He said suddenly, and I flinched back, confused.
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. His eyes had hardened back into place, Sherlock Holmes never could reveal his emotions for long.
"I told the guard I could beat you, something superficial on your face should be enough." He commented, cradling my cheek. I was shaking again, but not from happiness this time.
"You're leaving me." I whispered, and Sherlock's body tensed. He gave a curt nod.
"I have too, I'm calling Mycroft to help me infiltrate this base. You don't know how hard it's been to find you John." Sherlock said, brushing my hair from my forehead. It was nearly an inch longer than I usually kept it.
"How long?" I asked in a desperate squeak. He dropped his head, kissing me so gently my nerves stilled. I was a solider, I could handle this.
"A day, two at most." He answered, he rested his forehead against mine.
"You won't abandon me." I said, more to myself than to him. His eyes narrowed at the words.
"Never."
I slept the first day, and true to his word the second I heard panic in the hallways. People where screaming, and then silence. The rescue team had gone right passed my cell. The door opened at that thought, a disgruntled Moriarty stood.
"Get up!" He shouted, ripping me from the floor. I gasped as he pressed the gun into my back. He drug me up a stair well. The roof. I tried fighting back, but he dug the gun deeper.
"Me and you, Johnny. Till the end." He chuckled into my ear. We stood on the roof, I guessed he was waiting for a helicopter.
"I always wondered how you managed to pull off that stunt when we were last on a rooftop. You seem to be quite the accomplished magician." Sherlock's voice rung out. He'd removed the mask, standing in an outfit that reminded me of a uniform the SWAT team might wear in the states. All black armor made his pale skin stand out even more. Moriarty's grip tightened around my waist. He hooked his chin on my shoulder from behind. I saw Sherlock's shoulders stiffen and his jaw clench.
"I'll tell as soon as you spill about how you managed to survive a jump from; what eighty feet? Impressive, even for you Sherlock." Moriarty taunted. Sherlock gave him a tight lipped smile, I could hear a chopper approaching.
"Let him go." Sherlock said, all amusement vanishing from his face when he heard the helicopters approach. If I got on that helicopter, I wouldn't see Sherlock for a very long time, maybe even never.
"I don't think so. I thought he was being a little sure o himself when he said he was your lover, but that's not quite right is it. He's more than that, you love him." Moriarty grinned. I felt vomit rise in my throat as he groped my hips. He rolled his groin into my bottom, and I looked down in shame. This was humiliating. I gritted my teeth, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill. Moriarty tossed his head back with a cheap moan from behind me.
"So firm! Maybe on the chopper ride, I can get a checkup. How does that sound, Doctor-" I whirled around, punching him in the face. He stumbled back, and I knocked the gun from his hand. Scrambling to go get it, I heard Sherlock fire off a few shots. The helicopter was already back in the sky when I picked up the gun.
"He got away!" I spat, almost throwing the gun on the ground but quickly realizing how dangerous that would be.
"John, it's okay-"
"No it's not! It's not okay! I was tortured Sherlock!" I screamed, running my hands through my greasy hair. I was in a frenzy. I hysterically choked back another cry, and pulled at my hair.
He got away, I wasn't safe. He got away, I wasn't safe. He got away, I wasn't -
"John." Sherlock breathed, pulling me into a gentle hug. I collapsed into his arms, crying on his shoulder.
I was safe.
"How long was I ... held?" I asked, waking up on the groggy flight home. Moriarty had taken me to Germany. I'd fallen asleep on Sherlock, freshly showered with clothes that weren't soiled. I'd never remembered feeling so good, so happy. I rested my forehead on Sherlock's shoulder and he didn't complain.
"Four months, five days, seven hours." He answered. I winced.
"I missed Scarlett's birthday." I frowned. He snorted a chuckle, shaking his head.
"You would think of something like that as important." He tried to insult, but it came out more affectionate than I think he intended. I gripped his hand greedily, he allowed me too, looking straight forward quietly. I nuzzled in his hair, smelling the aroma that belonged only to him.
"I was terrified." Sherlock whispered. I looked up at his emotionless face. I felt my throat tighten.
"So was I." I slide my fingers between his and he finally moved his gaze to meet mine.
"I thought-I'm so sorry." He apologized. I wasn't sure what it was for but I didn't reject it, sitting up I kissed his, letting out lips barely skim over each other. He was trembling now, his hand came up to hold the back of my head.
"Scarlett is staying with Mycroft for the weekend, while you get settled." Sherlock said, his eyes focused on me as I used my clipped to crop my hair short again. Sherlock gathered my hair, bagging it for one of his experiments. I laughed out loud at the other idea that popped into my head. Maybe he had a shrine of me.
"What's so funny?" He asked, I rubbed my hand over my head. Nearly completely gray now, I sighed.
"Nothing. I'm getting old." I said, frowning at my reflection. Freshly shaven and just having another shower felt amazing. Sherlock approached behind me from behind. I was suddenly aware I was shirtless.
"Gray hair suits you. The color makes your eyes more vivid, and show off the your tan skin." He said, his fingers slide over my wrist. I arched back against him. Sherlock didn't have a gray hair on in his boucy raven curls. I blew out a puff of air.
"Well, as long as you like it." I said sarcastically, turning my head slightly. The kiss he dragged me in was nearly earth shattering. I was turned around and lifted onto the sink in a fluid motion. I gasped as Sherlock slide between my thighs. The warmth of him surrounded me and I shivered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His hands slide down the thick roped muscles of my back. I groaned into his mouth, rutting against him like a horny teenager.
"You worked out while you where held." He commented. Of course he would know. Rolling my eyes I nodded. With nothing else to do I'd done my military exercises repeatedly. The sweat helped to keep me sane.
"Yeah." I answered, kissing down his pale throat. He tried to move back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him into place. I thrusted against him mercilessly and he was just as recuperating.
"My pants." He gasped, releasing him from the leg lock he dropped his expensive blacks suit pants. I shivered at the contact of his through my thin pajama pants. He was hard, really hard. He took over, kissing my throat along with biting and licking. I should have been much more embarrassed by the wet stain that began appearing on the front of my pants than I was.
"John," He kissed the bruised flesh on my throat. His voice was thick with lust, deep and throaty as he spoke in my ear.
"Bend over." He ordered. I never could disobey a direct order. I slide off the sink and bent over it, flushing as I saw my reflection. Sherlock smirked over my shoulder, grinding into my backside I cried out. My mouth opened, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
"What do you want, John?" Sherlock asked, he rubbed his fingers through my newly cut hair. Gripping a handful he yanked my head back, I moaned. In the mirror their was no hiding my obvious lust. Even my untouched nipples where standing on end.
"Fuck me." I rasped. I needed this. I needed to be as close to Sherlock as I could. He kissed my exposed throat. My pants suddenly disappeared.
"Lube, we need lube!" I gasped, his warm fingers touching me. Sherlock looked up, I shivered.
"I didn't buy any ..." He said. Opening the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, I looked for something, anything. Vaseline, that could work. Dipping my fingers in it, I worked myself open. Sherlock was watching, his eyes burning, my erection accidentally bumped the cold porcelain of the skin and I cried out, spasming against my fingers.
"John-" Sherlock growled, gripping my hips so tightly they'd bruise. His erection rubbed impatiently against my probing fingers, and I moaned. He kissed hot trails up my spine, kneading my hot flesh. He bent down behind me, knocking my fingers away. I cried out as I felt his much longer finger slide into me. He was relentless, even as I clung to the sink, forehead resting against my own reflection, he didn't stop.
"Sherlock!" I rasped, two fingers. Twisting, I nearly came when his fingers brushed my prostate.
"Now!" I begged, and with a last swirl he stood. He coated himself with the vaseline before pressing at my entrance. His breath was ragged on my neck, his hands sliding up and down my chest.
"Ready?" He asked, his silver eyes amused at my slutty appearance in the mirror. A thin trail of drool was seeping from my gaping mouth. My arms strained, pawing at the mirror helplessly.
"Just do it!" I snapped, and he chuckled. We both cursed in unison when he jerked his hips forward. Immediately Sherlock was pounding into me, lost in the pleasure. I cried out, having to reach back and still him.
"Sherlock wait, give me a second to adjust." I panted heavily, fogging up my image in the reflection. Sherlock's eyes where dazed over in the mirror, primal need causing him to shake as he nodded stiffly. Groaning I rotated my hips slowly, trying to speed up the stretching process. Sherlock twitched forward and I dropped my head on the glass.
"Sherlock wait!" I cried, and he growled into my neck. His hips stilled, but he was throbbing so steadily in me. I reached back, knitting my fingers into the ones he had firmly grasping my hips. After a few more moments, I was ready. Rocking back to test it, I didn't have a choice after that. It was too much for Sherlock. He fucked me, hard. His hips darting forward so deeply, and swiftly I was clawing at the mirror, begging him to slow down to allow me to catch up with these feelings.
It was so much, too much. I realized that this was Sherlock coping when I saw his face in the mirror. He had been terrified I would never return to him, he was confirming my existence beneath him. The slight pain vanished for mind rippling pleasure. I cursed as he gripped my thigh in his hand, squeezing the softness before lifting it to rest on the sink. The new angle made it so every time his narrow hips slammed into mine, his blunt tip was grinding into my prostate. I went as tight as a bow string, gripping the edges of the sink until my knuckles went white.
"I'm gonna-" I felt Sherlock tightening behind me too. When one of us acted, the other reacted. He reached down between my legs, his hands still slick as he gripped me. With a few synchronized jerks and thrust I was over the edge. White hot lights sparkled and cracked in front of my eyes. My stomach coiled tight before snapping and breaking, allowing a flood to seep over Sherlock's hands. Behind me I saw the moment Sherlock felt my warmth in his palms, his own orgasm was ripped from him. His neck strained and his eyes clamped shut as he filled me with his thick, hot seed. Slumping against the mirror, he rested against my back. I felt him soften inside me, and his arms came to wrap around torso. Both of our breathing was short and fast. I looked over my shoulder, shaking my head slowly.
"That-That was brilliant, fantastic, phenomenal-" I listed. Sherlock gave a weary chuckle against my shoulder blade, kissing the tanned flesh their.
"You are aware you're rambling." He murmured, kissing the nape of my neck lazily.
"Sorry." I hummed. Whatever weight I'd felt on my chest had been lifted. With Sherlock holding me tightly, everything felt perfect.
"It's fine." He smiled, kissing me finally on the lips.