Author's Note:
I have always been a fan of a darker Sherlock and so I'm rather proud of this particular chapter. Thank you to all the reviewers!
Doctor Diefendorf was brought into the interrogation room, looking forward with a bored expression and occasionally giving a testing tug at the handcuffs around his wrists. This entire situation was ridiculous to him.
Sherlock powered down his phone and for awhile, he stood on the other side of the glass watching the doctor in chains. He studied the other man, to glean any extra information he could off of him. He had left the file in the car, having memorized everything from it. He finally walked in. "Doctor Hans Grutten. Sorry, Fritz Diefendorf is what you are calling yourself now isn't it? Whichever, it doesn't really matter to me what you call yourself. Either way you are disgrace to the medical profession." He stood in front of the restrained man, arms crossed over his chest. There was a chair for sitting, but he had decided he wouldn't use it.
Fritz glanced up at Sherlock with a small smirk. "I don't know what you are talking about." He shrugged and wiggled his hands. "Misunderstanding really. One patient dies and suddenly I am being connected with some madman." His green eyes lifted to Sherlock with a gleam. "Who is this Hans you speak of?" Playing it cool. It was the only thing the doctor could do.
"Hans is parasite of a man. Leeching off the lives of those around. He has a sister. Money is deposited into her account weekly. The transfer is out of London. She is pregnant with her first child. Huh." Sherlock paused for effect, a smirk on his lips. "Wouldn't it be shame, if there was a misunderstanding during her child birth? What can you do? Things just happen sometimes. Although, I doubt the infant would be lucky enough to live in this case. Hans wouldn't have any family left. His older sister and unborn nephew taken from him. Good thing you aren't this other fellow. This guy owes his sister everything. She took care of him growing up when their parents died tragically. She stood by him, when he was stripped of his medical license. But what do you care? Well, have a nice day Doctor Diefendorf. Sorry for any inconvenience." He turned to leave. "Oh, just one other thing. Sarah Sawyer, she was poisoned. So, things aren't looking very good for you anyway. Although, I doubt you will the inside of a real prison. I'll make sure they keep you snug in some Government hell hole."
There it was. Exactly what Sherlock had expected and waiting for. Despite the anger that washed over him, he smirked. It was far friendly. "I have many contacts everywhere and I can pretty much get to anyone." His eyes gleamed dangerously and he spoke once more, "You're a doctor right? How long do you think a pregnant woman can last under the duress of torture? It would probably induce premature labor. This early on, the infant would never make it. When she asks why things are happening, I'll tell her because her brother failed to save her. He was too worried about himself. The psychological torture would of course continue. And maybe, just maybe when I get bored I might give her quick death but probably not. I'll be sure to send you a video of it, but since you aren't Hans then you don't have shit to worry about."
"You wouldn't!" The man shot to his feet, hands clinched into fists before he went pale in realization. He had just given himself away. Fritz fell back into his chair. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was promised that everything would go smoothly, that the Sawyer woman and the child would die. That John Watson would disappear and he would be given money. And now a man was here threatening his existence. Everything. "Helen hasn't done anything. Don't touch her. If you do they will come after you, too. I am sure of it. You are just a scared bastard worried about your husband who fucks anything with legs. Why save him? What has he ever done for you?"
"Don't be naive doctor. I would and I will, if you don't start talking. You think the guys who hired you care about you or your family?" Sherlock shook his head with a humorlessly laugh. "If they cared about you at all, you would have been protected. But here we are. Taking the fall for it all. Murder, attempted murder, treason, kidnapping, accessory after the fact, and a bunch of other things I'm sure I could pin on you. If your information doesn't pan out, I have heard Germany is very nice this time of year. I would take a nice long vacation." It was hard to stay so in control. He wanted to beat this man endlessly, but it wouldn't get the consulting detective anywhere.
Fritz narrowed his eyes and smirked, cocky and sure. "Talk about what? I tried to save a child from a reckless man and his slut of a fiancé. She deserves better. So do you. John Watson doesn't love you. You are a quick fuck. Always there. Easier than a woman from Tesco or his hand. With Sarah gone he only has you." His face was locked in trained calm. "So, please, tell me more about how much you love him."
Sherlock smirked dangerously. "For someone who is about to lose everything, you sure are worried about me. I guess this was just a waste of time. I'll give your regards to your sister. Maybe she knows something. Hell, by the time I finish with her she will agree to anything to make it all stop." He turned, opened the door and left. He managed not to slam the door behind him.
No. That wasn't supposed to happen. Fritz shot up from his chair and looked at the door. "Wait! No, please. No." His chest heaved as he pleaded desperately. "Fine. Fine. What do you want to know? It was all to get at you but then... then your Dad had those plans and gave them to Captain Watson. We figured we could go after him. Get you and him get something we needed." He slumped back into a chair and dropped his head. "Please."
Sherlock had been waiting just outside the door, a smirk upon his lips. Now, it was time to make the son of a bitch sweat. "No one goes in or out without my say so." He growled to some desk jockey. He walked away, bummed a cigarette, went outside, sat down and took his time smoking. He needed time to regroup and clear his head. To try and stay detached.
Fritz kept his eyes trained on the door. That man couldn't just leave. He had shared some information. Granted it wasn't everything but he couldn't just spill all of the secrets he had. "I told you!" He shouted, slamming his hands down on the table with a growl. "That bitch deserved it! They all deserve it!" He shoved at the table, watching as it fell over and taking several deep breaths. His face was red, his hazel eyes wide as he glanced around. "Come back!"
The cigarette helped calm him down. Sherlock got up and walked back toward the room, took out his cell phone and had a nonexistent conversation as he walked back into the doctor's room. "All right. Keep me updated." He flipped the phone close and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Sorry to keep you waiting Doc. We just picked up another one of your members in this ridiculously elaborate operation you are running. I didn't even get to them yet and they are already talking. Some people are just weak willed I guess. So, if your information doesn't coincide with theirs go ahead and count your sister as good as dead." He smiled without mirth, leaning lazily on the wall. His fingers rested under his chin as he stared at the other man thoughtfully.
Fritz kept his eyes locked on the pocket that held Sherlock's cell phone, slowly raising his gaze before shaking his head. "I had one job. That was it. I was to kill Sarah Sawyer and that bastard of a child to break Captain Watson down. I don't know what else you want me to tell you," he snapped. He knew he wasn't in the position to start playing games but it was all he could do with some of the information he had received from other parts of the operation. "Probably the best. I hear he was screwing a soldier in Afghanistan, a pretty little blonde. Gave him a blowjob on patrol once in the back of car. Been sleeping together ever since. Good on him, she was the only female in Bastion." If this Sherlock character wanted to play dirty then he was prepared enough.
"Oh you mean Alyona Zukov? You see, Moriarty already used her to get to John once. Sloppy of you to use her again if you ask me. John knows exactly who she is, so if he was sleeping with her like you claim then he was just doing it to extract information. People tend to let their guard down after being intimate with someone else. Captain Watson was just doing his job. Who am I to hold it against him?" Sherlock replied coolly and gave an off handed shrug. "I don't think you realize just how much I know already. Consider this a test. Lie to me and well you know the consequences already. Continue to give me the run around instead of straight answers, and I walk out that door and I don't come back. Really, I don't need you anymore but I like being thorough just in case. Are you done with games then? Because honestly, the games are quite boring and predictable. I have had more intelligent conversations with a skull. You know for a doctor, you sure are an idiot."
"They are sleeping together," Fritz commented softly before shrugging again. "I told you everything. Sarah was in the way and a great way to break the Captain. Take away his future daughter and his little slut and we were thinking we would get information. It didn't work as planned, obviously. Kidnapping him was the next best way," he smirked. "They managed to catch him in the act with Alyona, actually. Bit upset he didn't get to finish. They ended up shooting her. Can't have somebody being attached to your little whore." There was a pause and he kept his eyes locked firmly on Sherlock. "So now you are stuck with that kid and you can't go anywhere because you need to take care of her while John Watson is somewhere in Afghanistan, probably dead by now."
Sherlock sighed dramatically and leaned up off the wall. "And the lies continue I see. That is a shame. Oh well. All my anger and frustration I have for you will be released soon enough. I'll send you a postcard from Germany while I'm there. Assuming Shevchenko doesn't have you killed before you receive it. " He shrugged and then left the room without another word.
"What else do you want me to say?" Fritz shouted. "I told you the truth, I told you what I know!" He was desperate now, worried for his sister and the child. This couldn't be happening. "I know where he is!" There was a long silence, a moment of awareness at what he had just said. "I know where they are holding him."
The door swung open quickly, slamming against the wall. Sherlock got directly in the doctor's face with a sneer. "Told me the truth did you? Just a moment ago you said he was dead and now you know where he is being held. So, which is it? They can't both be true now can they? And know that if the location you give me is not where John is found then I'll make sure you get front row seats to your sister's demise. Now, you sniveling little weasel of a man give me the coordinates." His had gripped the other man's shirt, his lips curled in a snarl. Everything he had been holding back clear as day now.
Fritz tensed and placed his hands on Sherlock's chest. "L-Last time I knew he was in Sangin, alright? They might have moved him after the first few murders. Obviously they don't want to get caught so moving is their safest option." He pushed feebly at Sherlock's chest in an attempt to get away. "H-He's injured. They have called in a doctor."
With a murderous look he released the man's shirt. Sherlock turned, as if to walk away but then spun around again and punched the prone man in the chest. He had intended to only hit the man once, but once he started he couldn't stop himself. All he could see was a red and white haze, completely blinded by rage. His fists pounded anything they could find. It took four men in suits to drag the consulting detective off the doctor. He spit on the man's face in disgust since his arms were pinned behind his back roughly. Once out of the room he growled he was fine, absently brushed off his clothes and stalked out of the building. He turned his cell phone back on, checking to see if any messages of any kind were awaiting, despite his instructions on to not be disturbed. He slumped into the waiting black car, his body finally registering the pain in his feet now that he wasn't on them.
Fritz had tried to fight back but with handcuffs on he couldn't manage much. By the time Sherlock was pulled off of him he was spitting blood on the ground and struggling to breathe.
Mycroft had sat and stared at the message in his inbox for several minutes before deciding to text his younger brother.
New video. When will you be back? –MH
A text from his older brother. Sherlock wasn't surprised in the least.
Soon. I got a possible location on John. Sangin. Probably gone by now but a team should be sent just in case. If gone, I would like a digital tour of the scene. –SH
With a sigh, he leaned his head into the seat. That damn doctor's words were haunting him. Had John really cheated on him again? No. He wouldn't. Not again. The prisoner had just been trying to get in his head. He had to tell himself that. He wasn't sure he could handle a second betrayal from the army doctor. Once the car came to a stop he went inside and up the stairs immediately. Time for another video. Great.
Mycroft was pale, his eyes lifting slowly to Sherlock. None of what he had witnessed was good. Nothing. The people who had John were dragging this out as long as possible. "We might have a problem." He whispered, turning the computer so it faced his younger brother and hitting play.
"So, Amy Sandoval?" The masked man was crouched next to John who was on his knees, head dropped. "Did your stupid little lover name her? Quite an odd name. Should have expected something stupid from a man named Sherlock." He laughed and held a picture up. "Look at her. The little girl is the product of a slut and a whore." The picture was discarded and John's silence was obviously not being taken well. A second man appeared from off screen and kneed the man in the stomach.
A new man was brought into view, forced to kneel. "You've got a family. A little girl and your future husband. So does he. A daughter, a son, and a wife," the man paused with a smirk. "Maria, Stephen and Lucy, if I recall correctly. So, Captain, what's his name?" A pause, the two soldiers exchanging looks. "Name!" No reply. A gunshot echoed from the speakers and the man fell forward with a shout, screaming several times. "Now! A name!"
"Kevin Aryka," John whispered softly. Another gun shot. John's bare chest was splattered with blood but he kept his face forward, eyes calm.
"How does that make you feel, Captain?" The assault rifle was pointed at him.
"Burn in Hell," John spat.
The masked man lifted the assault rifle to poke at John's right shoulder. "Left shoulder last time, right?" The screen went black right as a gun shot rang out.
"Sherlock, they've moved. Different location for that video," Mycroft whispered.
"Right, I was expecting that. John will be though. They brought in a doctor apparently." Calm. He needed to stay calm. To believe his own words. "What time did you pick up Hans…Fritz…whatever you want to call him? He had contact right before this video was sent. Go through every e-mail, text, phone log, everything." Sherlock began replaying the video once more, ready to go over it multiple times. It wasn't so bad, because he usually muted the main volume and concentrated on other things like background noise and the scenery surrounding the action.
"Sometime yesterday evening. We had him before I ended up going to bed last night," Mycroft commented softly as he pulled his phone out. He called somebody and left the room for a long moment, entering again with a small frown. "Shevchenko informed him. We have a phone call." he glanced up. "Out of Sangin," he muttered with a small shrug. "That's it. Just a call." He took a deep breath and jumped slightly when a soft cry started to come out of Sherlock's room. "Not now," he groaned, moving to turn but stopping when Mrs. Hudson came into the flat and instantly moved to Sherlock's room. "Sherlock, we had a starting point but they've moved. What now? We have just got a bunch of confusing Russian names and a seriously injured Army Captain."
Distracted would be the best way to describe Sherlock at the moment. Amy crying didn't even register and he only vaguely listened to what his older brother had to say. Without glancing up from the screen he asked, "When will they be set up to livestream the last known location of John's whereabouts to me?" Focused. Just another case. He took a breath and hit play on the latest video again to start it from the beginning once more. Beating the chained doctor had given him a brief outlet of emotions but they were already coming back and threatening to overwhelm him.
"Livestream? Sherlock, it's Afghanistan. Sangin is small. We can't do that," Mycroft stated calmly. His phone went off and he tensed, pulling it out and sighing. "New location. Konjak. They are moving... South?" He looked up at his younger brother with furrowed brows. "So, closer to Bastion. Which makes no sense. Have you heard anything from Dad recently?" In his intense worry about Sherlock and his future husband he'd completely forgotten about their Father and his situation.
Sherlock let out a growl of frustration. "Fine. Have whoever is there take pictures of every square inch of the place and then have them e-mailed to you…me…whatever is convenient. And why would he contact me? You are his golden boy. If he contacts anyone, it will be you." The entire time he stared at the screen in front of him, brows furrowed intently. He kept watching the same frame over and over again, muttering to himself.
Mycroft narrowed his eyes and fell into John's chair as Amy's cries slowly quieted. "Because he is helping you," he replied with a hiss. Sherlock was being difficult and while the situation wasn't ideal, he didn't really need to deal with any of his younger brother's attitude. "What place do you want pictures of? Konjak? They have already been e-mailed to me if you bothered to look instead of watching John get shot over and over again." He pushed himself violently out of the chair and started pacing the living room.
"Sangin, obviously but both would be useful. What happened to 'just another case' hmm Mycroft? Settle down. Your pacing is annoying and distracting." Sherlock finally stopped watching the video and went to inspect his older brother's inbox. He narrowed his eyes at a message from an unnamed recipient. He scanned it for viruses and then opened it curiously. "You were just asking about Dad. I think he sent us an encrypted message." He nodded his head at the screen and began to scrutinize the contents and trying to decipher the message.
Mycroft moved to glare at his brother but when Sherlock spoke he moved forward. "What?" He dropped down next to Sherlock, glancing at the contents. It was almost impossible to read. Mycroft prided himself on being able to make deductions like his younger brother but when it came to this, as much as he hated to admit it, Sherlock had the upper hand. "That means he got out, I guess." He smirked at that. Those poor bastards didn't even know who they were dealing with. "Any idea what it says?"