When John Watson woke the next morning he was relieved to see he was still alone. He knew it wouldn't last but for now he had time to think. He had no idea what this maniac wanted or why he was doing this except that it obviously had something to do with his brother and maybe Mycroft but those thoughts weren't going to help him anyway. I could try talking to him about his brother it might distract him he thought. He decided to give it a try although he didn't really hold out much hope of it working.
What he really needed to do was to find a way out of here although that seemed highly unlikely. There was no way of breaking his restraints the straps were too strong. There was no way of moving the chair it was bolted to the floor. So his only hope was to catch his attacker off guard. But how? He never touched the restraints or the chair so what chance was he going to have to even lay a finger on this mad man.
As John was processing these thoughts he heard the door creak open. He looked and saw the man entering with a small bag in his hand. John watched him carefully as he went over to the table. He couldn't see what was going on or what was in the bag but he dreaded to think what it might be. He took a breath and decided to try talking.
"So what happened to your brother?" John asked.
The man turned around and laughed. "So you think getting me talking will save you do you? Well I hate to disappoint you but it won't. I will tell you what happened to my brother but not just yet. I can't have you giving any clues to Sherlock now can I? He needs to work this out for himself. After all it's the only way he's going to find your body." He laughed again and then turned back to the table.
John was taken aback. This was it then. He was going to die here in an old, factory building. All the time, through all the pain he'd believed that Sherlock would get to him in time but now it seemed that wasn't going to happen. Now John had to think again. He knew Sherlock would find him but if he was dead what good would it do? This man was careful, his face was never on tape, he always wore gloves so no finger prints to tie him to the warehouse. The plan had changed then. The plan was not to escape, he knew he'd never manage that. The plan was leaving enough evidence for Lestrade to lock up this bastard and throw away the key.
John watched as the man finished what he was doing and went over to the camera and set it to record. As he walked over to John he could see a needle in his hand. John started to feel a panic inside him, what was that? What was he going to do to him?
The man noticed the change in John's expression and laughed. He turned to face the camera. "See your friend here, he's just seen this" he held up the needle to the camera "and he doesn't even know what's going to happen yet. So I'll explain. This is going to cause his death and you Sherlock will be searching for a body."
The man knelt down beside John and pulled at the sleeve on his right arm but he couldn't move it as it was held down by the straps that restrained him. John watched him place the needle on the floor so he could loosen the strap. This was his chance John thought, to get Lestrade the evidence he was going to need. He knew this was going to hurt and that his broken fingers were going to make it difficult but he had to try. He was certain that DNA evidence was the only way they would make a case against this man stick.
John waited patiently until he felt the straps loosen enough for him to put his plan into action. With one quick, sharp movement he pulled his right arm free and went straight for the man's neck, the only bare skin available to him. As he dragged his fingers nails along the man's skin John cried out from the pain caused by his broken bones but he was pleased to see a small spot of blood on the man's neck meaning he'd achieved what he'd set out to do. Under his nails would be the evidence that was needed, all he had to do now was hope that the man was too shocked to think about it.
Evidence wasn't what the man was thinking about right now, he was furious at John's attack and grabbed his broken fingers and squeezed with all his might. John let out a cry like a wounded animal, he felt tears well up in his eyes from the pain. The man yanked John's sleeve up his arm, slammed his hand back down on the chair and then pulled the strap as tight as he could around John's wrist before securing it.
With John once again secure in the chair the man took a deep breath. He picked up the needle from the floor. "Well Sherlock, it seems I underestimated your little friend here. He still has a bit of fight left in him, not that it will do him any good. Once I inject him with this it will be all over in a few hours. So John if you want to say goodbye now's your time."
Once again John heard that cruel laugh. There was so much he wanted to say but he was struggling to think and besides anything he said to his friend now would just be more ammunition for this man to taunt Sherlock with so he remained silent. He hoped that Sherlock already knew how much he meant to him. How he'd given him his life back when they'd first met. He hoped that Sherlock wouldn't think his silence meant he didn't care.
The man looked at the camera. "Well it seems he has nothing to say to you Sherlock. Oh well let's get on with it then shall we?" With that the man placed the needle into John's arm and John watched as the liquid was pushed into his vein. This really was it, his time was up. As John watched the man continued to speak "Well this has been an exciting operation but now it's time for me to leave. You really should have taught your friend here to be more careful when it comes to personal safety." The man removed the needle from John's arm and stood up. "Well Sherlock you have all the clues you need now to figure this out. If you hurry you might be able to say a personal farewell to Dr Watson here. But you'll have to be quick, he hasn't got much time left you know." And with a final laugh the man made his way over to the camera and turned it off.
When the camera was turned off and everything dismantled ready for him to take away the man walked over and stood looking down at John. "I did promise you I'd tell you about my brother didn't I? So I guess I should. My brother worked in a laboratory that was commissioned by the British Government to manufacture an untraceable poison. When some of it went missing a certain Mycroft Holmes got his little brother to take the case. Sherlock traced the poison to my brother. You see my brother was being threatened and that's why he stole it. The Holmes brothers didn't bother with such details though. Once they knew where the exchange was going to take place Mycroft sent in a team to get his poison back and my brother was killed in the crossfire. In this very room in fact. It's seems very apt that you should die here too don't you think? You see Sherlock will never be able to live with the fact that he couldn't solve this quick enough to save you and he will certainly never forgive Mycroft when he knows it was his poison that killed you. So they both loose people they care about in one way or another. Perfect isn't it?"
With that he turned, picked up his things and left John to die alone.