Sherlock story

Deleted Memories, Chapter 62

Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy

*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.

Mature themes, thanks.

"It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion." ~Horace

Present day

Sherlock heard John's steps behind his back as John walked from the kitchen back to the sitting room.

"You heard everything," Sherlock commented. It was not a question.

"Most I think, sorry I wasn't trying to hear." John replied honestly.

Sherlock shuddered slightly as he swallowed hard, "John…," Sherlock looked at John and bit his lips.

"One minute." John interrupted and walked away, he returned with two fresh cups of tea. He sat opposites Sherlock and waited.

Sherlock brushed imaginary lint from his pant leg again, "How does one do this. I could start with a chronological sequel of events, or perhaps the least to most traumatic events would be better…"

John interrupted.

"Sherlock, just… speak from your heart, and don't say something asinine like you don't have one, it's too late, I know you do." John took another sip of his tea before saying, "Let's try again shall we."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow then nodded. He looked John in the eyes, smiling sadly as a tear escape.

Sherlock took a deep breath and began.

"Toward the end John I was terrified, of course I didn't show it. We both know the only thing as immense as my massive intellect is my pride." Sherlock smile faded now. "I would be deposited back in my room at the end of my… talks every day, with the exception of a three day period."

"Someone came up with the inspired thought that three days of round the clock tortured was a good idea. At some point they miscalculated, my heart stopped. They had to resuscitate me, serves them right." Sherlock smirked briefly.

"They were afraid their boss Ayyad would find out that they nearly killed me without the information he required. They were so terrified they threw me back in my room, and left me alone for three days."

"Relatively."

"I did have a daily visitor but just a little knocking about."

Sherlock paused briefly.

"Did I tell you I drowned John? There was a female scientist there, who made me her pet. She thought of different imaginative ways to bring one close to death without going pass the line. Well, she did cross the line once, but that's another conversation. She was effective in the ways of torturing a man. Some were complicated and involved instruments. Some were quite simple."

"John, there was a square cement pool with a drain. The water at least was pleasantly warm. I was almost always handcuffed. They'd learned that it was not wise to let me have my hands free. This time they chained my feet as well. It really wasn't that deep, just six feet or so…"

Sherlock's breathing increased as he swallowed and closed his eyes while trying to remember to breathe. In and out, Sherlock thought. How hard can it be to just breathe? Sherlock after a few minutes regulated his breathing.

Sherlock heard John asking him if he was all right, relative term he thought. Sherlock nodded and after a moment continued.

"When I was thrown into the water, they did not interfere. I am a relatively tall person. I thought that if I could somehow manage to get my feet under me, despite having my hands handcuffed behind me, and my feet shackled; I would be able to push my head above the water. I was already weak from blood loss, being electrocuted, and torture in very imaginative ways for days so the point was; I was weak, very weak."

Sherlock paused.

Keep talking; keep breathing, Sherlock reminded himself. He began again.

"At first I managed to somehow maneuver the cuffs and chains so that I could push my body up. However, after about an hour with no rest I could not do it any longer, I drowned. They pumped the water out of my lungs, and waited for me to become conscious. They then carried me to the top of the pool and threw me in again. Simple but quite clever."

Sherlock closed his eyes and regulated his breathing again. Just breathe, he thought. Why is it so hard to breathe?

Sherlock began again, his breathing was slow but so deep, it was audible.

Sherlock spoke.

"Another notable event was the joyful day I was left alone with my guard for a substantial length of time. He… approached me. I had a feeling he was acting without orders. It started as usual, just a little knocking about, at least at first."

"Then things changed; the other guards were called off somewhere…" Sherlock look away and shuddered he seemed lost for a moment.

"Sherlock," John began but had to take a breath and swallowed bile before trying again.

"Sherlock, is that when he…"

Sherlock was still for a moment. He swallowed. His breathing the only sound in the room.

Sherlock took a deep breath and then answered quietly. "Not at that time."

John was aware of the implications of Sherlock's statement.

Both men noticed John did not ask if but instead said when.

John had discretely taken care of Sherlock the first week, he was a doctor, and he was his friend. His suspicions were now confirmed as he looked into Sherlock's eyes. There was somehow an instant unspoken agreement between the two men to stop pretending.

Sherlock after a moment of silence spoke.

"The first time I was left alone with him, let's just say I came as close as a person can come without…when he was about to… well... Novák, that was his name, made a mistake and loosen his grip enough that I was able to head butt him. He of course was not amused. When he picked me up to slam me on the wall. I managed to kick him in the groin, hard. Let us just say that certain body parts were useless for days and he had a distinctive limp. Of course, he beat me into unconsciousness. Hard to defend oneself handcuffed."

John looked horrified but did not say a word only looked in Sherlock's eyes offering support.

Sherlock looked at John now.

"I had a concussion. He was reprimanded. They could not risk brain damage when they needed my brain for information. Unconsciousness was the lesser of two evils." Sherlock shrugged.

"My two most bothersome memories invoked the same guard, Novák the day of my escape and the same female scientist the last day we were together. John, she was actually quite brilliant yet quite mad. She said she hurt me because she was in love with me, John."

"I've always told you that love was the most dangerous of emotions," Sherlock half smiled and tried to joke. He tried.

Sherlock turned away having long ago stopped trying to control his emotions. Sherlock turned to the wall a tear silently escaped pass closed eyelids as waves of shudders rolled through his body. His audible breathing was still heard in the room.

John put his tea down and did not try to fight the tears that escaped out of his own eyes. He hesitated for only a moment before he moved from the chair opposite Sherlock, and seated himself in the chair right next to Sherlock, the one Mycroft had occupied moments earlier.

John slowly put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock flinched briefly then relaxed realizing that it was only John.

John had no intention despite the flinch of letting go of Sherlock's shoulder.

John knew from personal experience that a simple touch could be very useful and give strength when one was trying to fight ones personal demons.

A touch seems to remind us that we are not alone.

Sherlock's voice was low but determined in its strength. John's sentimental gesture was appreciated and strangely comforting. Sherlock cleared his throat and began again, speaking the first of many words, for what would be a long, but healing night.

"John you were right… the devil does exist…, and she wears Prada…."