Silent tears poured down John's face, not even noticing Sebastian had disappeared. All he knew was that the rape was over, and it gave him just smallest, minimal amount of relief. He lay limply against the bed, his erection having gone long ago. He could feel blood and semen oozing out of him. Jim had laughed. Of course he had. John didn't know what he had expected. In fact Jim was still chuckling as he lay beside John, spent.
"Ohhh, Johnny...the fun we'll have for you. We'll have to let you heal up before next time though—I think we tore something in there," he laughed, smacking John's arse. "I've never tried to that before. God, that was...incredible. When you've healed up, maybe we can give Sebastian a go? He's just begging for a fuck. I don't imagine you've ever fucked Seb before, have you? It's a treat."
John didn't reply. He couldn't.
"You're suicidal, John," Jim observed, sliding a hand up and down John's back. "Obviously. That wouldn't be the productive thing to do, however. That would be idiotic. This is the most painful part. After this, there's no more pain, because your heart will be gone. I'll keep it safe where it'll never feel anything again. No pain, none of that cumbersome love. I'm freeing you, John. Through slavery." He stroked John's hair.
The door crashed open as Sebastian burst in, gun in hand. Jim blinked at him dully. "Ooh, Sebby, a bit dramatic, isn't it? A gun? Really?"
Stonily, Sebastian held the gun to his own head. "Leave John alone."
"Kitten, if I do that, he'll kill himself."
"I'll do the job for him, if he wants."
"That's very accommodating, Seb, but if you go on a blood spree now, then John's friends and family still die. Is that what you want, Johnny?" He leaned down to whisper in John's ear.
Sebastian's hand trembled, still holding the gun to his temple.
"...No..." John breathed quietly. He hadn't even looked at Sebastian, but he had gathered what was happening. Jim's offer was starting to sound better. No feeling. Not having to care or love or be hurt. "Please don't, Sebastian," he mumbled against the pillow.
"I think you should sleep with us tonight, John. For your own protection," Jim said.
"Us?" Sebastian growled. Jim nodded complacently. "There's plenty of room, Seb. John, you'll sleep in the middle. I warn you, I'm a light sleeper."
"I won't move." John's dead eyes stared ahead at nothing as the tears slowly started to cease.
"Good, then." Jim began untying John's wrists. "Sebastian, take John to be showered off, and clean yourself off as well. I'll be waiting here. If you're not both back in ten minutes I'll slice the soles of your feet and make you crawl around like a dog."
Sebastian swallowed and helped John to his feet after he was untied, supporting his weight as John limped. He finally couldn't bear it and, once out of eyesight from Jim, scooped John into his arms and carried him the rest of the way to the bathroom. He set him down gently. "John," he murmured quietly and urgently as he began wiping off John's tears with a wet washcloth. "John, listen to me. You have no reason to trust me, but think about this. Why would I tell you I loved you? Why would I spend so long getting to know you just to torture you? John, I don't think I can ever mend this, but I love you. I will always love you. Jim can't ever ever ever know that you know, that I told you. I would—I would kill you if I could, John. If that would fix things." He began sobbing, his hands shaking too much to hold the washcloth anymore. He turned away from John and collapsed to the floor, biting his fist hard to keep inhuman noises of sorrow leak out. "I would do anything to make you happy. I would carry you away from all of this if I could find a way how. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" he sobbed into the tile. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
Again, John just let Sebastian pick him up and move him around. He slumped down as Sebastian placed him on the floor. He was in his own world. His own world of no thinking, no hearing, no feeling. He blinked slowly at the floor. He could hear Sebastian talking but it didn't register. What pulled him from his comatose state was a heaved sob which, to his surprise, didn't come from him. His glazed eyes slowly slid upwards. Having missed everything Sebastian had said, he didn't know what was going on. There was only one thing on his mind. "Please...don't kill anyone I love...I'll do whatever you want...I promise...just please," he begged softly.
Sebastian pulled himself up and cupped John's face in his large hands. "John, I'm not going to hurt anyone you love." Unless Jim orders me to, of course, he thought bleakly. What would he do if that happened? Could he defy Jim? "What I want and what I have to do are two very different things." He picked up the washcloth, wiping his eyes on his arms, and very carefully began cleaning John's backside, which was smeared with blood. He winced for John, who must be in so much pain right now. "We'll get you painkillers," he promised.
John just nodded weakly, a few more tears sliding down his face. He slumped sideways against the bathtub, eventually just falling to his side and staring emptily at the base of the toilet as Sebastian cleaned him off.
"Jim'll be waiting," Sebastian said, pulling John as gently as he could to his feet, then lifted him into his arms so he wouldn't have to walk. John's lack of reaction deeply disturbed him. Would John ever be right again, even if he could free him? Had he made the wrong choice? Would it have been better to have let John die? He brought John back into the bedroom and laid him gently on the bed next to Jim.
John continued his blank stare as Jim grabbed a pair of soft, leather handcuffs that he attached around John's abused wrists and then connected a rope to the chain links. He tied the cuffs firmly to the headboard, giving John enough room to turn over if he wanted, and hold his arms in front of his chest, which he did.
"My boys..." Jim hummed, placing a kiss on John's cheek and ran a hand down over his hip before he grabbed the covers and pulled them up over them. "Night, Johnny, sleep tight! Tomorrow is the first day of your freedom. I'll take care of you now," he murmured, running a hand through John's hair. "Good night, Sebastian, be a good boy tonight."
Sebastian lay awake for a long time, and he knew that John was awake too, although John refused to look at him. Of course he would. He shivered underneath the warm blanket, then hesitantly moved a foot over to touch John's, sliding over it once.
John stiffened slightly at Sebastian's touch, but still didn't look up to meet his eye or turn over. He was their slave now. They could do whatever they wanted to him. John was fairly certain that if he had had anything to eat that night, he would've thrown it up, right there and then.
Sebastian felt John's foot twitch as he touched it, and quickly withdrew, inching as far to the edge of the bed as he could, turning his back to John. He wanted nothing more than to hold John right now, to comfort him. It was torment knowing that any touch from him would send John into utter revulsion.
John didn't know how long he lay awake, staring without seeing at Sebastian's back, but when sleep finally came, by the grace of God, it was dreamless and heavy.
When Sebastian awoke, he could feel a warm weight against him. John was curled beside him, snuggling close in his sleep. Some subconscious part of his brain must have remembered sleeping next to Sebastian. Wouldn't he be horrified when he awoke. Sebastian tried to get out of bed without waking John to spare him of the embarrassment and shame.
It didn't work, though; the bed moved as Sebastian climbed off. That and the instant cold woke John immediately and he cringed backwards in humiliation and horror. "Sorry!" he muttered, cheeks reddening. The cuffs jingled lightly as he moved backwards, closer to Jim.
Jim stretched and rolled toward John as he awoke. "Mmmm, morning," he sighed, then rolled over to press a long, crushing kiss into John's mouth.
John shrunk in on himself. He opened his mouth just slightly for Jim, but made no mood to reciprocate the kiss.
"He needs some pain killers," Sebastian said harshly from the other side of the room, where he was yanking on his trousers.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Then go fetch them, Sebastian. We also need to prepare you a script for Sherlock and quitting your job as well, John. I'll set to work on those."
Sebastian glanced at John, still chained to the bed, then followed Jim out of the bedroom. "Don't you have other work to do?" he snarled. "Is this really your big scheme right now? Emotionally torturing some nobody just because I cared about him once?"
Jim looked at him flatly. "Oh Sebastian, don't be so full of yourself. It isn't just because you liked him. And I think you're underestimating what an asset a slave will be for us. Now fetch those painkillers. I want to see that my new pet is taken care of and ready to serve as soon as possible."
Sebastian uncuffed John and helped him dress. He administered some painkillers, then Jim forced John to prepare them both breakfast, and Sebastian had to watch uncomfortably as John limped and fumbled around the unfamiliar kitchen, trying to scrap something together with his limited cooking skills. Jim slid a script over to John. "This is how you'll say goodbye to Sherlock. You will be wired and there will be a sniper ready at an undisclosed location, ready to shoot Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock on command. We'll have your room prepared by tomorrow, so you'll have one final night at Baker Street before you come here. You'll need to give your two weeks' notice at the clinic today, as well."
John gave a small nod. He pushed two Spanish omelets onto plates for Sebastian and Jim to eat before he hobbled away with the piece of paper to sit in the living room, finally by himself, and read through it, a few more silent tears dripping down his face. It was a very good, convincing script, but John didn't know if Sherlock would believe it. The man knew something was going on with him, but had thankfully been giving John his space. This, however, might raise concerns, and John didn't know if he should be glad about that or not. Could Sherlock save him? He couldn't help hoping, but he could see no escape for his situation.
John trudged to the flat and gave the most convincing performance he could as he delivered the story of how he was moving to Manchester as a career move. He ignored Sherlock's many questions and stuck to what Jim had told him, then began packing up his things.
After he'd gone up to bed for his final night in the flat, Sherlock mulled all of this over. It was so unnatural—he had known there was something going on with John for a while, but the fact that John hadn't wanted him to know gave him red flags. If John needed help, he would have asked for it. …Unless asking for help had undesirable consequences. He needed to start digging deeper.
Meanwhile, Sebastian watched as a keypad entry system was installed in front of what had used to be Sebastian's bedroom. Jim explained that the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom would now be John's. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" Sebastian asked. "In there with him?" He did his best to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. If he and John were roommates, he might get the chance to speak to John in private.
"As if I trust you," Jim snorted. "You'll sleep in my room. If I want the bed to myself, you'll sleep on the floor, and if I want to be alone entirely, you'll sleep in your gun room. Understood?"
Sebastian nodded curtly. He was going to have to gain Jim's trust if he was ever going to help John. He would have to show utter devotion to Jim, to the point of being jealous when Jim spent too much attention on John. Although that might encourage him more. It was difficult to predict. Everything about Jim was difficult to predict.
John showed up at Jim's that evening with two suitcases and four boxes. It wasn't really all that much, but he didn't even know if Jim would let him keep any of it. To his surprise, Jim had shrugged it off and said that he could keep his things for an incentive for being good. John couldn't even explain was a relief it was and was horrified that he felt the urge to drop to his knees and thank Moriarty profusely. It was sick, being this happy about not having to throw all of his belongings away. As John wasn't able to carry much with his limp, Jim told Sebastian to help him carry up his things. John noted the keypad on his door with a dull throbbing in his stomach, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he started to silently unpack his things, save for a very small "thank you" to Sebastian for helping carry them up.
Sebastian murmured a "you're welcome" and opened a box full of John's jumpers. He ran his hand over the knitted wool, wanting to steal one and bury his nose into John's smell, but he drew his hand away. "Sorry. I'll let you unpack. I don't imagine you want me touching your things," he said. John might never forgive him, but if he was as considerate as he could be when Jim's rules didn't make him do horrible things, perhaps John might come to trust him a little once more. It was a slender hope.
John paused for a moment as he looked down into the box he was unloading. The item on top was the only good picture he had of him and Sherlock. It was right after their case in Dartmoor. John swallowed thickly and glanced over before saying softly, "You can do whatever you want..." Carefully, he took out the picture of the two of them and set it on his nightstand, gently running his fingers over the top of the frame, knowing he would never see his best friend again.
Sebastian glanced at the picture. John probably wanted time alone. He realized with a twinge how lonely John would be from here on out. There was nobody left he could trust or turn to. He left and tromped downstairs to where Jim was working at his desk. "Well, he's settling. As much as he can do, anyway," Sebastian said. "If you treat your toys like you did last night, Jim, they'll wear out fast," he said, keeping his tone light, but rage surging just below the surface.
Jim didn't bother looking up as he typed out an email. "Fascinating insight, Sebby. I should hire you," he said sarcastically.
"You hired me to be your bodyguard, to be your sniper. Not to torture my former boyfriends," Sebastian pointed out.
"I hired you to do whatever the fuck I tell you to," Jim said, looking up.
"So why do you need another slave, if you already have one?" Sebastian asked through clenched teeth, then swallowed. He had to keep this light. As if he didn't care about John. As if it was his own pride being wounded. "Honestly, boss, it makes me think you don't appreciate all that I do for you. Am I not good enough for you anymore?"
Jim rolled his eyes and turned back to his email. 'You don't pay slaves, Sebastian, and last time I checked, you're getting quite the hefty sum. Now run along and go kill something." He waved vaguely at the door.
"Kill what, Jim?" Sebastian asked, refusing to move. "Honestly, it's like you never even pay attention to me anymore."
Jim looked up at him incredulously. "Wha—are you jealous, Sebastian?' Jim asked, unsure if he was reading this correctly.
"No! Why would I be jealous?' Sebastian asked, intentionally getting flustered. "I'm just—I'm underappreciated! You treat me like shit, and I do everything you ask me to. I feel like I'm being shoved aside because you found a new favorite thing to play with, and it's unfair." He sounded a bit like a whiney child. Good.
Jim looked at him, eyebrows raised, then he snorted. "Right. Okay, then. Is this because I gave up your bedroom?"
"It's the bedroom, it's, 'Let's fuck Johnny,' it's you telling me to run off and kill someone. When was the last time you kissed me, Jim?" Maybe he was pushing it too far. He hoped Jim would buy it.
Jim scowled. "Oh shut up! Don't act like you actually enjoy anything I do to you in bed. Yes, I can make you scream like a bitch in heat, but have you ever actually wanted me to? This is solely about your fucking bedroom isn't it? Keep this up and I'll give you a dog bed on the floor to sleep in. Now piss off, I'm busy!" Jim growled, eyeing him.
Sebastian glared at Jim, then finally asked, "Who are my assignments today?"
Jim grabbed a piece of paper from his printer and handed it to him. 'That's all. I've got meetings for the rest of the day. Don't get into any trouble, dear.' Jim stood and straightened his suit, pulling out his phone. "And don't do something foolish enough to get John's friends killed." With that, he left.