It began the very next day. Sherlock arrived at the designated location, which was in a small town just east of Bristol. After being debriefed, he now stood beside Dr Soong in one of the laboratories. Various machines, including heart monitors, IVs, and some others which even Sherlock couldn't identify. All with tubes and cables, and a metal table in the midst of it. It looked like something out of a bad horror film, really. "You know, it's not too late to change your mind." The doctor offered. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course."

"You have to understand, the process it still... imperfect. There could still be side effects." He flipped through some documents on his clipboard, making sure everything was in order.

Sherlock's reply was simple. "But will it save him? Will I be able to save John?" A nod, a simple "Yes". So Sherlock looked around at the equipment. The equipment which would change his life, the very fabric of what he was. And he took a step closer to the table. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He felt like some child's Biology experiment. Strapped down on the table, at least forty cords attached to his body, along with an IV in each arm. "Now, I can't say that it won't be painful. But in the end, it will be worth it." Sherlock nodded as best he could. "I'm starting it in three... two... one." The warning didn't help much. Sherlock's breath caught in his throat for a second as a fire coursed through his veins. No, worse than fire. It felt like acid. Finally, he squeezed his wide eyes shut as he let out a scream, the sound of which he hadn't the faintest idea his voice could manage. He could feel every cell in his body being affected, being twisted and contorted into something new. He was thrashing against his bonds, wishing in this moment for the sweet relief of death. Oh, what he would have given for it all to end, right then and there. The heart monitor was running wild. And he was certain that he wouldn't survive. He would surely go into cardiac arrest, his heart would give out in him. But it persisted, continued beating faster and harder as seemingly distant encouragements of "You're doing well, Mr Holmes" and "Sherlock, stay with me" reached his ears.

And then it stopped. And his world plunged into darkness.

Sound. That was what he first became aware of. Sounds like a hospital. But too loud, too clear for just waking up. Sitting bolt upright, he half expected it all to have been a dream. But when Sherlock opened his eyes, he could see dozens of sleeping forms resting in beds around him. Some sort of medical ward, definitely.

But the real revelation came when he stood. He appeared to have been dressed in a pair of black trousers- Not his own, and no shirt- while he'd been unconscious. And when he looked down at himself, he no longer saw the thin, under fed frame which he'd become accustomed to. He had always been strong, of course, but now one could actually tell by looking at him. He must have gone up one- No, two suit sizes. And he could manage only one thought.

It worked. It bloody worked.

"Mr Holmes!" Sherlock's attention moved to the doorway, where Dr Soong was once more looking over information on his clipboard. "Didn't expect you to be awake yet."

Having to force the shock out of his mind, Sherlock didn't waste a second. "Where is he? How can I get to him?"

"You can't go just yet." There was a touch of hesitance in his voice. And in the end, Sherlock reacted just as he assumed he would.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Shouting, a rage materializing in his core unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His hand slammed against the metal wall, realising just before the impact that it probably wasn't his best idea.

The wall dented.

There was the shock again. His gaze moved from Dr Soong, to his hand, back again. Sherlock's expression, which he didn't bother to try and disguise, was that of confusion, of near terror. "This is what I mean. You haven't learned to control your strength yet. If I let you go off on your own now, you could end up doing more harm than good. You might even end up killing Dr Watson while you're trying to help him."

Oh. He hadn't thought of that. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, which he now discovered had been cut short. "How long have I been unconscious? Three days? I've waited too long already. John could be being tortured right now, maybe dead. You want me to go through some sort of training? Fine. But how long will it take?" It was clear that Sherlock had no intention of losing this argument. That Dr Soong shouldn't even bother to try.

"Four days, three if you continue doing as well as you have been."

"I'll do it in two." That arrogant tone coming forth again. "Two days of training. That's the most I'll allow. After that, you will tell me where John is and how I can save him. Do I make myself clear?" There was an unsettling malice in his voice which he did not recognise. Dangerous. Perhaps deadly.

Though he had not expected it, Dr Soong nodded in agreement. "Two days. But you have to understand, you no longer need food nor sleep. If you insist on doing this in such a short time frame, you'll be working almost nonstop."

He'd be damned if he disagreed.

The two days passed quickly. Even with Sherlock never having a moment to himself. And just as it had been predicted, he was adjusting extremely well. His already superior mind was only an added advantage. The procedure hadn't affected that aspect of him. And that engine which had always been running out of control, which had caused for so much taunting and isolation in his lifetime, was finally being managed. And he'd never felt more at ease with it.

"He'll be here." Dr Soong had a map laid out on the desk in his office. "I would anticipate at least fifty guards. Dr Watson won't be the only prisoner there. Get them all out if you can, but remember that he's the main focus. You won't be able to use your real name. We'll have to give you an alias." He removed his reading glasses, looking him over for a moment.

Sherlock only rolled his eyes. This was sounding far too James Bond for his liking. "And I assume you have that picked out, as well." He shook his head, regaining that near perfect posture he'd so recently acquired.

Rolling up the map, which Sherlock had surely committed to memory by this point, Dr Soong placed a supportive hand on the taller man's shoulder. "I wish you all the best of luck," And then, his codename.

"Khan."