Sebastian's stomach plummeted as he wondered what Jim had done with John. He forced himself to stay calm. "Where did you move him to?"
Jim snorted, 'I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. Just know he won't be around to bother you anymore. I've decided that I will be the only one he sees. He needs to learn that he is mine—it's time that I break him once and for all. So how's your hand?" Jim asked reaching out to tenderly take it and look it over.
Sebastian's stomach felt like ice, but he could think of no way to convince Jim not to do this without making it sound like he still had feelings for John. He was going to need to meet with Sherlock very soon. He'd been texting him through his bedridden days, but he needed a personal meeting once more.
John continued his desperate banging for another ten minutes or so, although it felt closer to an hour to him, before he eventually slumped down and cried softly to himself, his voice raw. He could hear a muffled meowing and the soft scrape of paws against the other side of the door. John put his hand against it, wishing he could go out to see the small kitten and hold her. Mrs. Buttons was his only comfort most of the time and now he didn't even have her. After a couple of minutes, he heard Jim come downstairs. He seemed to be talking on the phone.
"You fucking IDIOT! You'll be lucky if I only decide to skin you alive! The fact that I have to come out there at all—! Sebastian!" Jim called up the stairs. "I'll be out for an hour. You're going to have to take care of yourself—fucking ingrates," he mumbled to himself as he stormed from the room. John heard the sound of the door slamming a moment later. It wasn't any comfort that Jim was gone. He still couldn't talk to Sebastian or see him. He couldn't even write him messages on the mirror now. He bit back another sob and heard Mrs. Buttons pawing gently at the cupboard door, mewling again.
Sebastian limped downstairs to get some food, and found Mrs. Buttons mewling and pawing at the door. "Hullo, little fuzzball, what's in there that you want, hmm?" Sebastian said, picking up the cat to pet.
Mrs. Buttons meowed and pawed at Sebastian and looked back towards the door. John wanted to cry out to Sebastian, but he knew it would only make things worse. He couldn't however, hold back a miserable sniffle as he curled in on himself, tears still leaking from his eyes. He shifted his hand on the door. Sebastian was so close...
"What's in there?" Sebastian asked the cat again, then tried to the door handle and found it locked. He rattled and tugged on it—the cupboard had never been locked before. He sighed and headed into the kitchen, looking in the fridge, then finally gave up and called for some Chinese to be delivered. He wondered where John was. He kept expecting to see him around the corner, cleaning or scrubbing or organizing, but he was nowhere to be found. He sighed, read the newspaper, and organized a new meeting time with Sherlock. He had to fix this, before John broke down completely. Wherever he was, Sebastian was sure it wasn't pleasant. His skin crawled at the thought, and then crawled some more at the thought that he was going to have to pretend to be in love with the man who was psychologically torturing the one he really loved.
John heard Sebastian move around the kitchen and house, completely unawares of where he was. He didn't know if that was better or worse, Sebastian not knowing. Better, he supposed. A while later, Mrs. Buttons returned and started pawing at the door again, meowing desperately for John, who couldn't escape. Jim hadn't told him he couldn't talk to Mrs. Buttons, he realized, only Sebastian. Not knowing where Sebastian was in the house, having lost track, he held his hand to the door again, where the thought the kitten was. "I'm here Mrs. Buttons," he said softly, "I'm here, don't worry." The absurdity that he was trying to comfort a cat while locked in a closet was lost on him. He just felt sick, waiting in the darkness, wanting to die.
It felt far longer than an hour before Jim finally returned. When Sebastian had gone upstairs to rest some more, Jim unlocked the door and let John out. John rushed into the dying light of the living room, so grateful for the light and space of the place. He felt almost happy to see Jim. As much as he loathed him, seeing him was better than being alone in the dark.
Jim ordered John to cook him dinner and commanded him to make enough for himself as well. He talked about his day and, John was shocked to find, had a civil conversation with John. It was almost pleasant. Jim then ordered him to clean up the kitchen, wash himself in the shower, and then he locked him back in his closet.
Jim returned to John's room and told Sebastian that he was well enough to sleep with Jim again, and to move back in. Sebastian obeyed, beginning to suspect that John was being kept in the cupboard downstairs. The thought made his stomach turn. He came to bed and crawled in next to Jim, gingerly due to his still healing body. Jim, content just having Sebastian in the room with him for the night, rolled over and immediately went to sleep, claiming an exhausting day full of idiots.
Downstairs, though, John couldn't sleep. He was miserable and didn't have the blanket or pillow Jim had promised. He felt a strange mixture of cold and stuffyness, curling in on himself, and before long, John was struggling for air in the stuffy cupboard. He pushed on the door hard enough that there was a small crack that let in a small amount of air, then he practically plastered his mouth to it, gasping for fresh air. He felt like the walls were closing in on him and he hated it. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. He had no way to tell how time was passing, save for the occasional meow from Mrs. Buttons, who had curled up outside the door to sleep. It hadn't even been 24 hours and John could already feel himself breaking. Another day like this and he wouldn't be able to stand it anymore.
The next few days went on much the same—John was let out in the morning to do some chores and cook breakfast, then he was locked back in his room before Sebastian was up and moving, and kept in there until Jim returned at night, where he was let out and cooked dinner. Each night Jim brought him a little treat—the promised pillow and blanket, for one. One night it was the newspaper, the next it was a cold beer, the next it was a flashlight. "You've been very good, Johnny. You deserve a little bit of light," he said, handing it over and patting John's cheek
The days were pushing Sebastian to his limit nearly as a hard. He was positive now that John was being kept in the closet, but if he so much as lingered in front of the door for too long, Jim would grow suspicious. And Jim wasn't raping John anymore, so he had no call to pretend to be jealous. It was torment. He was meeting with Sherlock nearly every day now after work, and Sherlock had become his only outlet to talk about what he was feeling. He could tell by the detective's expression that he wasn't comfortable being a sounding board, but he never told Sebastian to stop and Sebastian couldn't help himself.
When Jim gave John the flashlight, John broke down into tears, sobbing, "Thank you, thank you master—" over and over again, unable to stop himself. He was so relieved, he could hardly even stand it. John felt himself slipping away, waiting desperately each day for Jim's return, which meant presents and getting some escape from the dark, if only for a little while. He had hated that he longed for Jim to come home, and that he was happy to see him. He hated it at first, anyway. Over the first two weeks, his hatred for his situation slowly started to ebb, and he was left with nothing but being relieved and happy when Jim came home. Jim had been right, the hardest part was the beginning, but soon it had become the norm. John hadn't seen Sebastian in nearly fifteen days, and it barely even bothered him anymore. Jim was the only one that could make things better for him, and so John's mind slowly start to turn so that it was solely on him.
A week later, Jim came home and let John out as usual, accepting the hug that John gave him, stroking his hair. "Hi, darling. Miss me?"
John gave a weak nod and clung to him, not wanting to go back into the cupboard.
Jim held John, knowing that John was otherwise starved for any human contact. "I brought home a movie, darling. Make us some popcorn and we'll watch it. Seb's working late tonight." He pulled out the film Thelma and Louise, grinning.
"Yes, master," John said, then hurried so set about preparing the popcorn, "Would you like anything to drink, master?" he asked as he scurried about.
"Gin and tonic, Johnny," Jim smirked, kicking off his shoes and settling on the couch after popping the movie in.
A few minutes later, John came over carrying the bowl of popcorn and a gin and tonic, and set them before Jim. "Can I have a glass of water, master?"
Jim lolled his head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, Johnny, can you?" he said playfully.
John faltered, not wanting to displease Jim. "I...m-may I, master?"
"Yes, of course. You've been so good and helpful. Get yourself a glass and then come join me," Jim said, clicking through the adverts before the disc menu
John smiled at the praise, then disappeared and came back a moment later with the water and curled up next to Jim, grabbing a blanket and spreading it over both of them.
Jim started the film and let John curl next to him, stretching an arm behind John to begin massaging the back of his neck with his fingers and thumb.
John melted against Jim. He needed human contact and Jim was the only one who could provide it.
"How was your day, Johnny?" Jim muttered, reaching for the popcorn.
"Fine, master,' he mumbled, snuggling his cheek against Jim's shoulder. Mrs. Buttons walked over, and John, scooped her up, the only other thing he was allowed to have contact with, and set her in his lap to absent-mindedly stroke her.
Jim smiled to himself. It was working beautifully. Before long John would absolutely crack. "You're doing very well, John. I think before long you'll be able to do chores while I'm away, so long as you go directly to your closet if Sebastian returns. He doesn't want to be bothered with the sight of you. Does that sound reasonable?" he said, still stroking John's neck.
John nodded eagerly, 'Yes—yes, thank you, master!" John almost cried with gratitude. Less time in the dark!
"You please me, John, very much so," Jim said, and watched in triumph as John glowed from the praise. Yes, he was becoming very close to becoming John's entire world. Perfect. He leaned over and kissed the back of John's neck, just behind his ear. "This is my favorite part of you, Johnny," he murmured, licking and sucking delicately at the skin. "I couldn't tell you why..."
John sighed, a soft smile on his face and closed his eyes, scooting even closer to Jim, content for the time being.
Jim wrapped his arm around John and they watched the rest of the movie. Jim laughed when Thelma and Louise drove off the cliff at the end. "Idiots," he said, clicking the movie off. He stroked John's shoulder. "Time for bed, Johnny. See you in the morning.
John nodded, thanked Jim again, then hurried to his cupboard and closed himself in. He closed the door, turned on his flashlight and got comfortable for a minute, then flicked it off, his eyes drooping. He realized Jim hadn't come by to lock his cupboard, so he pushed the door open just a bit to let Mrs. Buttons hop into it with him, then closed it again and went to sleep as the kitten curled next to him on the pillow. "Good night, Mrs. Buttons," he murmured as he began to drift off, feeling much better than he had a week ago.
In the morning, Jim opened the door and tapped his foot, waiting for John to come out. "Did I tell you could take the cat in with you to sleep?" he asked patiently.
John's heart squeezed in fear, "N-no, master," he mumbled as he crawled out, "I'm sorry—I didn't...I...I thought it would be okay," he pleaded, looking up at him.
"Yes, I'm sure you will be sorry, Johnny," Jim said. "Caring for the cat is fine, but it should never trump my orders. That's what concerns me so." He handed John a fresh jug of water. "I won't be needing you today. Back in your closet until I fetch you." He pushed John inside and locked the door from the outside, making his own breakfast and leaving for work.
Once John heard Jim leave, he started to cry, feeling horrible that he'd done something so foolish. He didn't want Jim to be mad at him, and he didn't want to be in the cupboard all day. Even though Jim wasn't there to hear him, he started sobbing over and over again that he was sorry, into his pillow while Mrs. Buttons pawed at the door.
John heard Jim come home, but Jim didn't let him out. He heard he and Sebastian conversing out the door, but he never unlocked the door. Jim had ordered Sebastian to bring home takeaway.
"Are you sure John's still around, or are you just making that up?" Sebastian joked, though his insides were turning over and over. He was exhausted and utterly depressed, not having been able to sleep well over the past week. Every plan he'd thought of for communicating with John—notes under the door, talking to him—would be spotted on the audio and visual surveillance.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Of course he's around. And turning out wonderfully. I pet. I reckon his heart and anything he was before is nearly gone now." Jim sighed happily to himself, thinking proudly of his psychological handiwork.
Sebastian stared, open-mouthed in horror, unable to speak. "W-what exactly are you doing to make him...like that?" he finally stuttered out.
Jim grinned and winked. "I can't give away all of my secrets now, can I? Got to keep some of the mystery, Sebby." Jim patted his cheek and turned, striding into the kitchen. "Maybe in another week or so, I'll let him freely roam the house again—
hm. Actually, he should probably check on your wounds...see that they're healing properly." Jim wrestled with his brain for a moment. He wasn't sure how John would react to seeing Sebastian, but he guessed that by now John would be skittish around other people. And anyway, he needed John to take a look at Sebastian's healing progress. "Maybe I'll have him take a look after dinner."
Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, that's likely a good idea. As much as I've enjoyed not being bothered by him, that might be best." He tried not to wolf down dinner so that Jim would let John out.
Once Jim finished, he took him time going about other things, checking his email, sending off a few, making a call here or there before he called Sebastian back into the kitchen. "Sebby! The doctor's in!" Jim yelled as he made his way over to John's cupboard, dusting off his hands. He unlocked the cupboard. "John, you're going to tend to Sebastian, make sure he's healing up all right. He's in the kitchen."
John blinked up at him in surprise. "Will...will you be with me, master?"
Jim smirked. "Of course, John, sweetheart. Come on." He guided John into the kitchen. "I put your med bag on the counter."
"I'm sorry about this morning. I only wanted Mrs. Buttons to be okay—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, master," John pleaded, desperately wanting Jim's forgiveness.
"It's all right, it's all right, honey," Jim said, stroking John's hair. "Now go do your job."
Sebastian stared in horror at how John clung to Jim, how he seemed to be scared of even making eye contact with Sebastian. "What would you like me to do, John?" he asked, sitting up.
John just looked fearfully up at Jim, who nodded at him. "You may speak to him, John."
John gave a little nod and inched towards Sebastian. It was strange. He remembered the feelings he had for Sebastian, but they seemed hollow. He felt like if Sebastian really cared about him, he would've done something when John needed him. Now though, he almost just didn't care. He didn't need Sebastian, he had Jim. Jim gave him everything he needed. "Can...can you please give me your hand, sir?" John asked, glancing over at Jim, wondering if he was allowed to touch, and waiting for permission.
"You may touch him," Jim said. Sebastian wanted to throw up. He wanted to hold John's head in his hands, to kiss him and remind him of their perfect conversations, their perfect nights together. Now John looked at him like a stranger. Sebastian stared at the floor, an enormous lump in his throat. He was trying his best not to care. Sentiment was idiotic, he thought bitterly. Love was for chumps. He closed his eyes as John's hand brushed over his, business-like, no tenderness to be felt.
John carefully unwrapped Sebastian's hand to prod mechanically at the bones. They were healing properly, which was good. John wound it back up, then checked Sebastian's ribs to check on the bruises, and then the whip marks on his back before he gave a small nod and retreated to Jim's side, standing closer to him than necessary, as if he was some sort of protection from Sebastian. "He's healing properly, master...is that all?" John asked, looking up at him.
"That will be all for now, thank you, Johnny. Clean the kitchen, shower, get yourself a glass of water, then back in the cupboard," he said.
Sebastian stood up, disgusted. "I'm going to bed," he growled.