"There, now, John," Jim said softly, taking John's face in gentle hands. "Was that so hard?" He leaned down and kissed John's forehead softly. "My poor darling. Still in love with Sebby after he's explicitly shown his devotion to me. I didn't think even you could be such an idiot..."

John felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye and looked away, trying to keep his breathing steady, but didn't say anything. Maybe this would be it. Maybe Jim would just think it was amusing and let it be...

Jim laughed, pulled his lips away, and swiftly brought his knee into John's groin, causing John to cry out in pain and double over, but Jim yanked him up and held him up by the shoulders, punching him in the gut. "Oh, Johnny, I just don't understand it! Why would you still be in love with him? It makes no logical sense! In the ordinary scheme of things, you should be an intelligent man...a doctor, after all, and a rather successful one too. Yet love tends to turn people into idiots, doesn't it? You saw through me, after all, didn't you? How I feel about Sebastian..."

John fell backwards as Jim talked, the wind knocked out of him. He struggled for air through the all-encompassing pain, sinking to his knees. He hoped desperately that Sebastian was asleep and couldn't hear what was going on.

Jim paced around John, who was lying in the fetal position on the floor. "I imagine you've wondered many times why I've kept you around for so long. You haven't yet bored me, John. I keep trying to study you, to see why Sebastian was interested in you in the first place, why Sherlock kept you around...now it's becoming clearer. There is far more to you than meets the eye, John Watson. Just when I think I've broken you...you fight back." He hauled John up to his feet. "And you fear me, ohhh yess, you know what I'm capable of." He cracked his neck to the side, still watching John. "Yet you still fight back..." he emphasized these last 3 words by prodding John in the chest with his finger. "I want you in my bed tonight," he said. "Sebastian's still absent, so what's a man to do?"

John stifled his sob. "Please...please no...I'm sorry—please—just let me sleep on the floor—"

Jim ignored his pleading, grabbing him by the throat and tossing him on the bed. "Don't try my patience any more tonight, babe," he said, crawling into bed. "I would hate to have to tie you up to quit you squirming."

John let out another sob—still in pain, and wanting nothing more than to run away with Sebastian. "Please...please don't do this," John begged, dropping the master pretense, too desperate to care. It'd been nearly a month since the last time Jim had touched him. He had foolishly thought he had been off the hook.

Jim smacked John hard across the face, rolling him over and grabbing a pair of handcuffs from his bedside drawer. He snapped them onto John's wrists, then hauled John's hips up so he was on his knees and ripped down his pyjamas. He stripped the pyjamas from John's legs and used them to gag John tightly. "I don't want you ruining Seb's sleep," he growled, shoving John's legs apart.

At least there was that... John's tears flowed freely now and he unabashedly cried into the gag as Jim moved him around. There wasn't any point in fighting or arguing now. Last time that had happened, it had meant Stamford's life.

Jim reached into the drawer and pulled out some lube, slicking his cock and using his fingers to push inside John, prepping him quickly.

John screwed up his face and clenched his jaw as Jim's fingers were shoved in. He let out a small whimper at the rough treatment and hoped it would be over soon.

Jim scissored his fingers, stretching open the space, then added a third finger, moving them quickly out. He breathed heavily into John's back as he lined himself up, then shoved inside and began working in John quickly and mercilessly.

John grunted and whimpered as Jim slammed into him. It had been long enough, and the preparation quick enough that it hurt. John was still in pain from Jim kneeing him in the groin, and the only upside was that he was positive he wouldn't get hard. John squeezed his hands into fists and pressed his forehead against the bed.

Luckily for John, Jim was only looking for a quick fuck and made no pretense of drawing it out, keeping up the fast, hard pace and grunting quietly until he finally came with a small gasp deep inside John. He pulled out, panting, then unlocked John's wrists and untied the gag. "Clean up, then come back to bed," he panted.

John gave a weak, silent nod and climbed from the bed. He was limping quite a bit from a mixture of Jim's punishments. He slowly made his way out the door and quietly into his room. He hoped to God that Sebastian was asleep, but he didn't look over to check. The nightstand light was on, but that didn't really mean anything. John could feel Jim's come leaking out of him and starting to run down his thigh as he moved to his wardrobe to quietly grab himself a new pair of pants and pyjama bottoms, and wiped some tears from his face.

"John?" Sebastian whispered. "Did Jim...did he?"

John let out an unsteady breath, but didn't say anything for fear that Jim would hear their conversation later. He wiped off his face again and limped towards the bathroom to clean himself off and out. He quietly shut the door behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he broke down into sobs, trying to stifle them so Sebastian wouldn't hear. He carefully lowered himself to tenderly sit on the lowered toilet lid and turned on the bathwater, hoping it would mask the sound of his crying and dropped his head into his hands. Whenever he started being okay, Jim would break him down again. Every time. At least no one had died this time, though, at least he had managed to take it more or less without protest. Still, what sort of life was that? How was he going to bear this?

Jim drummed his fingers on his pillow as he waited for John to return. "John! What's taking so long?" he called in a sing-song.

John very quickly bathed himself after the tears stopped and dried himself off. He pulled on the clean pyjamas, then slowly limped back out of the bathroom. He set his jaw, trying to put on a militant poker face. He hated Sebastian seeing him like this. He made his way around the bed and towards the door, not able to bear looking over at him.

"John..." Sebastian whispered uselessly as John left.

Jim smiled tightly as John came back in the room. "Into bed, muffin. I'm tired," he said, patting the other side of the bed.

John didn't say anything as he made his way around the bed and slipped stiffly under the covers. He curled up tighter and turned away from Jim to stare at the wall. The bed, at least, was comfortable and warm. It had been weeks since John had been in a bed of any kind.

"John, turn around and look at me," Jim snapped.

John flexed his jaw and silently did so, just barely holding back a glaring look of hatred.

"John...you still love Sebastian, you said so yourself. And what are your feelings for Sherlock? Do you still care whether he lives or dies, after all this time?"

"Of course I care!" John said incredulously. "Why the hell do you think I do anything you ask?!"

"Eventually that won't be the case. I've created some fractures, some wounds, but I haven't cracked you yet, John." Jim sounded frustrated. "I've made you want to die, but that's not challenging or elegant or...useful. When I'm through with you, really through, your heart as you know it won't be burdened by useless care for people who would never reciprocate your love. You'll have a new heart, hard and black, one that I fashion for you. Only then will be a truly productive servant for me. And it won't take long. Not long at all, John," Jim said, stroking his hand down John's face and along his chest.

John jerked away from his touch, giving Jim a disgusted look, though he truly felt terrified, because deep down, he knew Jim would be able to do it. "You're insane—" he hissed.

"Would a sane person try to destroy someone's heart and soul? Probably not. Sure is fun, though, and very interesting," Jim mused.

John swallowed thickly and scooted farther away from him, but Jim plastered himself around John, holding his throat possessively. "Sleep well tonight, pet. It's going to be your last night in a bed for a good long while, I think."

John let out an unsteady breath, his skin crawling. He was already so close to cracking that it terrified him. He didn't know what Jim had in store for him, but he was certain that he wouldn't like it.

The next morning, Jim woke John up and showed him a cupboard near the kitchen that he had cleared out entirely. It was barely big enough to lie down in, and there wasn't any light inside, not even a light bulb or a flashlight. "This is your new home," he said. "You will sleep here and eat here unless I command otherwise. If you're bad, you'll be confined here for however long I choose. You are not to have any contact with Sebastian: Visual, vocal, touch, or otherwise. When he is in the house, you will remain in your cupboard until I come and fetch you. You will ask me permission to sleep, eat, or use the toilet. When I'm not in the house you will be locked up and let out when I return. Do you understand?"

John looked at the small space. He wasn't tall, but he wouldn't be able to stand. His heart sank and his stomach churned. He felt like he was going to be sick. Never before had he ever felt such an overwhelming, crushing sense of despair. He wouldn't even be able to see Sebastian—he wouldn't be able to see at all—it would be pitch black. He wondered how long it would take for Sebastian to figure out what had happened to him. "Bu—but master, what about the cleaning? What about the cooking?" John didn't think he would ever enjoy doing his chores, but he would far rather be doing them than be trapped in here. He would be even more restrained than usual, kept in more or less a cage. He took a step backwards.

"You will earn certain privileges back, such as a sunlight, once I start seeing changes that I want to see. You will be able to cook ahead for meals in your time outside of the cupboard. I'll get you a chamber pot and a jug of water for your space, and you may take a pillow and a blanket. As for chores, you can do some of them still, but I'll hire a maid once more for the longer tasks that usually get done when I'm out working."

John choked out a sob. A chamber pot? John would hardly be able to fit in it by himself. "Please...please don't make do this—I'll do whatever you want—please!" he begged backing farther away, pressing a hand over his mouth.

"What could you possibly do that I would want?" Jim spat in disgust.

"I don't KNOW!' John cried, then in an act of desperation, dropped to his knees and clung to Jim's suit jacket. "I'll be whatever you want!" he sobbed. "I'll give you my whole heart, whatever you want, just please don't make me go in there!"

"Get off my suit," Jim's lip curled and he pried John's fingers off of him. "You won't be what I want until I've broken you properly. If you tried now you'd only be pretending. I want your heart for real. All of it, undiluted. In you go." He pointed to the dark space.

"I can't!" John sobbed, looking at the small space. "I can't!"

"Relax, Johnny, it's hardest in the beginning. You'll grow used to it before long," Jim said, then grabbed John by his neck and shoved him inside, locking the door from the outside.

John turned himself around to throw himself against the door, but it didn't budge. He tried again, his crying only getting louder and he pounded against it. "Please! PLEASE—Let me out!" he sobbed, banging against it, the darkness closing in around him and he started to hyperventilate as the cupboard seemed to close in around him. He felt like he was suffocating.

Jim rolled his eyes and went upstairs. The whiny bitch would get tired of screaming eventually. He stepped into Sebastian's room. Sebastian was gingerly putting on a shirt, dressing for the day. He froze. "Is—is that John I hear?" he asked, looking over at Jim.

Jim looked at him flatly. "Who else would it be? How're you feeling? Now that all of the big things are, for the most part taken care of, I will tend to you."

Sebastian frowned, trying to look more annoyed than what he actually felt—terrified. "Why? Is the actual doctor doing something more important now?"

"No. John won't be doing anything for quite some time. He's received new living arrangements." Jim looked around the room, his eyes landing on the picture of John and Sherlock on the bedside table. He made a disgusted face. "In fact, let's throw all this rubbish out. He won't be needing it anymore." He picked up the frame and tossed it in the small bin next to the door.