Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I didn't make you wait long did I.
Thank you guys for the 82 reviews, I would have never continued this story without your support.
Peace&Love
"Hello Johnny Boy." The man sings.
John stills urgently, he would recognise that Irish accent anywhere, the sing-song voice that sometimes plagues the doctor's dreams.
"Moriarty." John acknowledges, nodding his head slowly. John sends a huge wave of panic into the detective, trying to convey the seriousness.
"John, what is going on?" John senses Sherlock reacting from the panic, his thoughts jumbled and disbanded. John backs off with the emotion and lets the detective think. John wishes he could talk to Sherlock, he wishes he could tell him that Moriarty is here.
The mastermind kneels before him, his suit expensive and clean. His eyebrows slightly raised with Admiration? Amusement? Deliberation? Moriarty looks like he is trying to solve a puzzle, the scrutiny unnerves the doctor but he doesn't break eye contact.
Suddenly, another wave of blood wrinkles the doctor's nose. John doesn't know if it's coming from Moriarty or the dead man beside him, and John really doesn't want to find out. The doctor is suddenly and irrationally apprehensive of opening up a connection with the evil man in front of him.
The two of them stare at each for minutes, Moriarty with his intense gaze and John stubbornness refusing to back down, all the while sending emotions to Sherlock, anxiety, fear, confusion, panic, with waves of contentment to tell the detective that he isn't hurt, well not hurt severely. He can feel the drying blood sticking to the side of his face and his head smarts.
"John."
It's John who breaks the silence first. "You are much shorter than I would have thought." The words are out before John can stop them and he instantly regrets it.
The doctor closes his eyes and braces himself for pain, instead Moriarty's high pitched laugh reverberates throughout the small room.
The laugh startles the soldier. John opens his eyes to see Moriarty standing up straight, moving around the room with no clear destination.
"You really do have a nasty bark, don't you?" is all Moriarty remarks, the laugh still evident in his voice. The Irishman finally settles for leaning against the wall opposite the restrained doctor. His arms are crossed, his whole body tense with nervousness? Why would the man be nervous, he isn't the one tied to a chair. John gazes at the criminal mastermind and realises something.
Moriarty isn't nervous, he is excited. His body is practically twitching with it and now John feels anxious.
"Why are you here?" John asks breathing through his mouth as the blood smell permeates through the room, enveloping the telepath. "John"
"I came to see you, Johnny. Although it is a shame about Joseph, he was a good employee." Moriarty answers with mock sadness, his eyes briefly flashing to the dead man on the floor.
"Why did you kill him?" John tenses as he asks, stalling for time really. The images of hallways in Sherlock's head seem familiar but then again the whole warehouse looks the same everywhere.
"He got greedy." Moriarty says definitively, his tone unapproachable and John doesn't ask anymore questions.
Once again the two sit in silence and John is actually growing bored. John almost snorts, Moriarty, the world's most dangerous criminal is standing in front of him in all his menacing glory and John is bored.
"I really have to stop being around Sherlock." John thinks to himself.
Unwilling to break the silence, John decides to connect with Moriarty again, this time he gags through the onslaught of blood. Moriarty's mind only has one sense, and it's blood, the evil man smells like blood, he taste like blood, and John almost pulls out. The doctor has never come across someone with such an unappealing sense. John refuses to back down, even though blood fills his mind and various images, (the doctor's own) swirl around his head. Images of triage from the war, bleeding soldiers that John couldn't save. Pictures of Sherlock in all his post-case bleeding glory. Red fills the doctor's mind as he sees Sherlock, tied to the sofa bleeding as John watches helpless from the floor.
John shakes his head to try and dispel the images, but he doesn't break the connection, he probes deeper trying to forget his own memories flooding back painfully.
John pushes past the blood, even though it lingers unpleasantly through the doctor's mind and finds where his memories should be. Moriarty's mind is blank, as if the man is devoid of all thought.
John panics, he can't hear the mastermind, no memories, no thoughts meet the doctor, all John sees is red and smells the red substance, as his own thoughts fight for surface. John tries to send deep calm into the criminal mastermind. He stares at the evil man as the deep feelings of calm should wash over Moriarty, expecting to see Moriarty fall still and asleep. Instead, Moriarty just smiles, a devilish curl of the lips that causes John to reel the connection back.
Why can't he hear Moriarty? John literally tries to spit out the metallic taste that has invaded his mouth. The cooper smell still lingering unpleasantly.
"John."
John doesn't know what to do, he can't hear Moriarty, he can't send the man to sleep. John is genuinely panicking now. All thoughts of trying to get out of this situation are slowly becoming unreachable dreams.
"Why?" John asks himself over an over as he tries to communicate panic and confusion with Sherlock.
"Hang on, I'm almost there." John sighs with relief, and action that doesn't go unnoticed by Moriarty.
"Sherlock on his way then?" Moriarty asks confidently, John fights for control, fights for his face to remain neutral and not give anything away. Does Moriarty know?
John just stares at the criminal mastermind with his believable, yet false confusion. Moriarty's eyes knit for a second before his eyes shine bright with determination.
"Seb!" The shrill voice calls and John is confused for real this time. The door creaks open and a tall, very military, and very scary man saunters in. His stance straight and obedient.
"Johnny, meet Sebastian Moran." Moriarty says, the man looks like he is trying to hold in jumping for joy. John just stares at Moriarty and then at Moran in disgust.
Neither men say anything, John just stares at the ex-military man.
"Where were you stationed?" John asks, genuinely curious and attempts to convey how the situation isn't affecting him.
"Oooo, Sherlock is wearing off on you. Lucky pet." Moriarty exclaims and clasps his hands together. "Unfortunately, we don't really have time for chit chat. Seb?" Moriarty states and looks over at Moran, a definite unspoken command passes between them. John's body tenses with anxiety.
Moran moves closer to John and out of nowhere a fist connects with John's cheek. The doctor lists to one side, the force of the impact almost sending the ex-soldier out of the chair.
He can feel the bruise smarting but the images that Moran left behind are causing the worst pain. The connection is so instantaneous and gone so quickly that John doesn't have time to condition himself with the connection. The link breaks abruptly and John head burns with pain.
John tries to remember the last time a connection broke so painfully and before he can recall a time, as he is sure it had been months, another blow to his head interrupts him.
John actually moans in protest, flashes of bodies and even flashes of Moriarty himself enter the doctor's brain, causing the connection to become powerful before it breaks painfully.
The doctor's head is in confusion, his emotions are free and he can barely register anything other than pain.
"John. Hang on." Sherlock's thoughts offer comfort but John still winces at the intrusion. Another fist hits him hard and John has to brace himself so he doesn't fall out of the chair. Images of blood invade the telepath, bodies everywhere, image of gun, cleaned, the owner takes pride in the weapon and cleans it out of adoration.
"Stop." John hears Moriarty say and just as quickly as the connection started, it's gone. John is vaguely aware of Moran backing away but the doctor's mind remains distant, trying to pick up the painful pieces.
The doctor attempts to communicate feelings with Sherlock but everything hurts. He lets the lilac/honey comfort him even if it does make his head throb.
A shadow falls over John and he tries to open his eyes that he didn't know he had closed.
"Johnny Boy, you are a soldier. Surely a couple punches can't incapacitate you this much." Moriarty says, his tone with mock confusion and a hint of wicked amusement. The evil man stands, his body directly in front of John's blurred vision. "Unless..."Moriarty's sings, his voice high and piercing through John's already tender brain.
John doesn't even see it coming, his mind too focused on maintaining the pain level and attempting to communicate with Sherlock, nothing prepares him for what happens next.
A hand gently cups his cheek.
John's head explodes, the connection is strong and powerful, nothing like John has ever experienced. He expects painful images to find him, but nothing comes, no thoughts or memories, just blood. John actually screams, the sound loud and piercing. His head goes ballistic as the crimson flows around his brain, causing his own thoughts to come to the forefront. Painful memories from deep within the doctor flood his mind, the blood swims through, intertwining with each memory.
John feels the hot hand on his cheek, but the pain paralyzes him, John is still, his teeth and fists are clenched with fury, anger and pain.
Images of the war, bodies in the sand litter the doctor. The memory of getting shot comes to the forefront and his shoulder aches with the same intensity it did back in the sands of Afghanistan.
All the images are painful and unhappy, images of Sherlock being hurt, painful memories of death and blood capture the doctor's attention as his eyes unfocus and he becomes merciless to his own mind.
An unmeasurable amount of time passes, John's voice is almost hoarse from the screams and the pain is coursing through his body. The images are vibrant and torturous. John can feel the blackness coming, he can feel blood dripping down his nose.
Suddenly the hand is gone and John can breathe again. The blood lingers and so does John's painful memories. John's head lolls on his chest, everything in his body spasms with weakness. His muscles shake violently and his brain feels like mush.
Even the lilac/honey is gone.
"Excellent." is all Moriarty says, and at this moment, John is too fuzzy with pain that he doesn't even register what this all means. That Moriarty knows about John.
"I've got to go Johnny. We will definitely see each other another time." The words filter through the doctor's ears faintly, as does the door creaking open and close.
John doesn't do anything, he remains motionless, his mind reeling in confusion and pain. He tries to find Sherlock, the pain severe. Eventually he finds the lilac/honey. He must have cut the connection at some point. Through his painful haze and weakness, John latches onto the detective.
"Hang On John. I'm almost there." John sends his pain into Sherlock, very briefly. John doesn't stop, or reign in his emotions, the pain has severed his self-control. He lets everything he is feeling flow into Sherlock. His fear, guilt, anger, despair, pain, lots of pain and even his own cowardliness. His stupidity, to think he could beat Moriarty with his mind, his lack of bravery at being proactive in stopping the man.
"John." Sherlock's tone is heart wrenching.
Eventually, the pain becomes too much and John has to break the connection, just as the black spots fill his vision completely and John blacks out.