Sherlock story

Deleted Memories, Chapter 50 More-Graphic

Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy

***Author note: I both was asked, and felt that it was necessary to explore what Sherlock went through during his abduction. This is that attempt. ***

For this chapter there is a less intense version available click on the next chapter marked Less-GRAPHIC CHAPTER 50.

Thanks for commenting it lets me know how I am doing.

WARNING: Some of the following chapters have descriptions of captivity and, torture and all things not nice. If you are a younger reader, or sensitive, Please skip or click on the next chapter for a T rated version.

Alternate chapter 50 available

****For a less graphic chapter 50, skip this chapter and click on the alternate chapter marked, LESS-GRAPHIC CHAPTER 50. This chapter offer similar information in a less-graphic way. Remember it will still be a T rated, and Sherlock is still in captivity.

Choose which version of the chapter is best for you. Thank and LoL.

**Rating temporarily M**

If you're going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill

Deleted Memories of Abduction

The next day, he heard heavy steps approaching. There was urgency to their steps. Something was different. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, preparing. "Phase-two," he whispered to the air while reopening his eyes

It was a blitz attack. Two fast punches to the abdomen in quick succession. He lost the little bit of food and water he managed to consume on someone's boot. Serves them right, he thought before the offended individual punched him in anger.

He heard Novák laughing at the other guard. Sherlock then felt another cut open up on his cheek to add to his collection.

While he was gasping for breath and choking on vomit, his head was roughly retched back. He felt a searing pain as an unknown substance was injected into his neck. His body slumped barely able to move.

Sherlock's senses were assaulted while his world tumbled and spun. Everything intensified, and not in a good way. Every sound was perfectly clear but too loud. Every sight was perfectly clear and focused but felt overwhelming and too bright. Sherlock was disoriented and unable to discern simple direction such as up or down. Worse, Sherlock's body was hypersensitive to pain.

The slightest touch felt like a stab, a punch like he was being disemboweled. The pain from his collection of cuts and every bruise intensified greatly.

He opened his mouth to groan, but no discernible sound came, only strangling, choking noises and grunts.

The worst part was that his eyes were fully opened, he was fully alert and fully aware of everything that was happening.

He was roughly dragged from his room to another place.

The sound of his body impacting cement broke the relative silence.

The guards allowed Sherlock to fall roughly to the ground. His body was paralyzed so he could not cushion himself from the fall. Ripples of pain shot through his body from the impact.

With difficulty, Sherlock tried to push the pain aside and take in his surroundings. He processed a few things.

First, he was in a room he had never been in before. The room had a large open area with ceiling hooks. There was an autopsy table, modified with restraints. The room also had various equipments, and a table with various small knives, whips, ankle cuffs, and other small devices he had no desire to think about.

There was also some sort of small, square cement pool with some sort of drain. It had cement stairs that one could climb to get in and out of, to access the pool.

Apparently, his captors were giving Sherlock enough time to process everything, to take it all in.

For the first time since being there, Sherlock felt true fear.

Sherlock noticed that they had not bothered to use blindfolds, blinding light, or any disguise.

Someone spoke; female.

He saw her shoes first. She roughly jerked his head up by his hair to look in her eyes. The movement felt like someone was slowly peeling back his scalp.

She waited for his breathing to calm, as she looked him over from head to toe.

In any other situation, he would have described her as attractive, dressed in a dark brown designer suit. She had hazel eyes and light brown hair that was pulled neatly back into a long ponytail. A lab jacket completed the picture.

Of course, Sherlock thought, would not want to get blood on such a nice suit.

She looked like some scientist in a laboratory until you looked into her eyes.

They were void of all compassion, of any humanity. They were calculating. You could almost see death.

He deduced that she in fact was a scientist, however disgraced. She was originally from the Czech Republic although some time was spent in the States. He deduced that she was in fact a brilliant psychopath with homicidal tendencies. In other words, she was both crazy and deadly.

She spoke perfect English with a thick Czech accent.

"Do you like my cocktail? I'm quite proud of it."

She bent down to unbuttoned his shirt rubbing the material between her fingers, "Nice shirt," she said conversationally, "you can always tell quality."

"Too bad it's ruined… so hard to get blood out." She nodded, walked to a table and removed something. Then she walked back.

In the meantime, two sets of hands quickly removed the unbuttoned shirt, next his belt and his trousers came off. Sherlock was relieved that they left his boxers on. This relief was short lived when those too was removed.

Step one take away control. Step two humiliate and throw off balance, Sherlock's alert mind noted.

His body reacted badly to the drug. Sweat poured out of him causing him to be chilled as the air hit exposed flesh. The next minute, waves of unbearable heat would ripple through his body. This vicious cycle repeated itself. Sherlock's body shivered and convulsed as waves of pain tore through him. It was unbearable. The sensation of nausea washed over him.

His moans of pain were trapped in his throat and came out as, strangled noises.

Step three pain. Step four escalate pain. Sherlock mind analyzed while desperately trying to focus away from the pain.

The men who had undressed him roughly dragged him up right now. His clear mind willed his body to fight back, to resist.

It could not obey.

Sherlock's paralyzed body could not give help, nor could it offer any resistance. Sherlock noticed one of the guards were Novák who seem to be completely enjoying his humiliation.

His hands were re-cuffed and he was dragged, lifted and was put on an overhead hook. His head hung down, his feet did not quite touch the floor. He felt as if someone was using a dull knife, cutting to disconnect his arms from his shoulders.

Pain hovered over Sherlock, ascending and descending on his mind and body.

She peeled back two jelly-like pads and put them on opposite sides of his chest. Two more were peeled. One was put on his lower back. One on Sherlock's lower abdomen. She looked in Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock knew what they were, his breathing picked up.

When she saw recognition in his eyes, she smiled and ran her fingernail callously down the middle of his bare chest leaving an angry, long, red scratch mark. Pain rippled through his chest. Wherever Sherlock's skin was touched, there was a sensation of being burned.

She spoke again as if they were friends having a casual conversation over lunch.

"The cocktail blocks the part of your brain responsible for voluntary movement. The part of your brain responsible for involuntary movement is not affected so the heart still beats, lungs pull in air, and eyes blink."

She nodded and was handed a pair of thick cream-colored gloves. "It inflamed the nerves temporarily that are responsible for sensation. In short it intensifies pain… greatly."

She attached four metal clips with two long intertwined bundles that ran to a machine that was off to the corner.

"I'm still working the bugs out…," she frowned and for one brief moment looked almost… innocent. Like a child that had a broken toy and was trying to fix it, "… its effect does not last long. Also, some of my customers prefer the ability of their guests to scream." She shrugged slightly as though apologizing.

She nodded and someone in the background pulled a switch. A loud hum filled the room.

Sherlock's breathing quickened.

She continued the monolog.

"The last effect was unexpected; it seems to pull up every unpleasant memory or fear."

"Is there anything you fear, anything you'd rather forget?"

Sherlock shivered… this time he wondered if it was from the pain.

She kissed him almost tenderly on the lips. "You really are quite beautiful. See I am kind, I'm doing you a favor, the pads will keep your skin from blistering or burning. Sorry they also intensify the pain."

Sherlock's heart hammered in his chest.

She kissed him again, roughly this time forcing her tongue into his mouth as her hands invaded his body.

Her touch burned.

She then said, "My employer has asked you politely some questions, you really have been uncooperative. I know your mind is clear and fully active so take this time to think about it. No reason to keep you when you answer, you'll be let go."

They both knew it was a lie.

Without warning, she hit him hard enough to snap his head back with a leather whip. Pain exploded with flashes of light, he could not even groan.

Gagging noises were all that he could produce. He felt a sticky wetness flow down his temple. Sherlock mouth had the coppery taste of blood mixed with saliva; some ran down the side of his mouth.

She moved toward him again. Sherlock wanted to move away but was paralyzed. Only his eyes could see her. Sherlock tried to prepare himself but she did not strike him again. Instead, she tenderly wiped the blood away from his mouth. She then kissed him gently, almost passionately.

Strangled protest died in Sherlock's throat.

She caressed his cheeks gently saying, "A nyní začínáme". (And now we begin)

She stepped back.

She locked eyes with his.

She smiled.

Another switch was pulled and Sherlock's body jerked, seizure, and contracted. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his heart hammered as if it would explode in his chest. He made barely audible gagging noises.

Sherlock's world was pain; nothing existed outside of that world. He tried to escape to his mind, his palace; but the pain would always drag him back.

In his mind, he railed, and shouted curses; but it never made it past his lips. Finally, he screamed, repeatedly, long, blood-curdling screams.

Sherlock's only consolation was that no one could hear.

***Author's note: This is my first torture scene. I hope I did not compromise on the experiences of Sherlock's character, balanced by not going too far. What do you think?

By the way, any death threats and hate letters I receive will be burned; well, except for the really interesting ones. Lots of Love . ***