I AM ON A ROLL. It's that my collab, THE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING SHERLOCKED-WITH-LOKI, AND I HAVE WRITTEN FARTHER THEN WHAT I'VE UPDATED SO I'M BASICALLY CATCHING UP D:
BEWARE. FEELS IMBOUND.
John, your presence is required immediately. I've sent a car. MH
John tilts his head at the text then looks up at a black car streaking towards him. The door swings open and he's bundled in. He's gotten used to the harsh secretiveness of the club but still doesn't understand why fully.
For once, Mycroft is in the car, not able to wait for John to arrive.
"It would seem that my brother has cracked far faster and far deeper than even Moriarty expected," he says, icy facade showing a faint crack of concern- both for his brother and for the nation. If this is indeed happening, things are going to get very, very complicated.
"What do you mean cracked?"
"My people found Lestrade in an alleyway near the yard, along with two other blond men. The two have been identified as Sebastian and Severin Moran. All three have been taken to Bart's Hospital. Together they might be able to shed some light on our current predicament."
"I thought Sebastian Moran was Britain's Most Wanted?"
"He is, apart from Moriarty of course, but I am willing to wipe records if it means getting Sherlock out alive."
Mycroft already has a basic idea what's going on, but it is only an idea. A hypothesis. Nothing positive, as of yet.
"What did you tell my brother, when you last saw him?" he asks, looking over at John. If it's anything like what he thinks, he'll have to share the file that Sherlock had asked him to keep from John.
"I didn't have a chance to say much. The second I woke up I was tied up with Moran's gun aimed at my head."
Mycroft shoots him a look.
"Did you say anything pertaining to him, then?"
John shakes his head.
Security video comes up on the screen, from Moriarty. Before the beating. Mycroft makes a point of turning up the volume.
John makes perfectly clear, as he has his own gun raised in desperation, that he doesn't care. A desperate bluff, but in Sherlock's vulnerable state, he looks unsure. Hurt.
"That...it was a bluff. Surely he would have figured that out. I didn't mean it!" John was trying to justify what they were watching. He hadn't meant anything that he'd said. He'd been trying to escape. "What have I done?"
Mycroft switches the feed to the most recent video he had received from Moriarty. Sherlock, down in the basement with a broken cheek and bleeding. Moriarty offering him a job. Sherlock grinning and accepting. "That.""He...works for Moriarty now?" It was suddenly too hot in the car and John feels like he's going to faint.
"It would appear so, I'm afraid." The video is clearly the reason that the politician's usually stoic facade has cracked slightly. He looks almost nervous. "What did Sherlock tell you about his time in and immediately after University? Did he ever mention Victor Trevor?" "Briefly. He mentioned that he was a dear friend of his." John shrugs. "Nothing much." Mycroft scoffs slightly. "Of course. He helped fund my brother's drug addiction. But yes, I suppose he was the only person other than you that could have been classified as a 'friend.'" "What's he got to do with this?" Mycroft sighs. "According to my Intel, he currently works for James Moriarty. Considering what you'd said to him and Sherlock's previous relationship with Victor, if they meet each other again, there is a great possibility that we will lose Sherlock on our side permanently."John rubbed his head and sighed.
"So where are we going now, Bart's?"
Mycroft nodded.
"Lestrade might be able to tell us of Sherlock's current condition and the two Moran's can tell us how to get into the facility."
"And if they don't?"
"Sebastian will. Judging by past events between him and Sherlock, I think he'd help us help him."
John looks confused so Mycroft taps the laptop a few times and a new video began to play. Sherlock kissing Sebastian.
John's eyes flick to the screen at the sudden change, and his posture tenses at the scene. It's clear that Sherlock is enjoying it. John feels sick. Hurt.
Anyone, it would seem- even the two most wanted criminals- is more attractive, to Sherlock, than him.
He feels his chest twist slightly, and looks away with a taut jaw. He clearly doesn't mean a damned thing to Sherlock, other than half of the rent and an expert opinion on corpses.
Fuck, he was such an idiot to think anything else.
Mycroft looked at John sternly. "I told you caring isn't an advantage John." John nods. He gets that now. The car stopped outside the hospital and the doors were opened for them. John climbs out, posture stiff. Militaristic. Cold. He waits for Mycroft to get out before walking into the hospital, where an anxious Molly is waiting. "Oh! John. Greg is awake already, so maybe you should talk to him first," she says, twisting her fingers. Living people aren't her expertise, but she'd come up from the morgue when she heard that Lestrade was here in critical. John nods and walks into the hospital. He got directions from the receptionist and made his way to Greg's room. The inspector was sat up and in obvious pain. Greg immediately looks up when John walks in, looking greatly concerned. "John, you have to get Mycroft to do something about Sherlock. He was threatening to kill himself and he really meant it and he was being fucking tortured-" "Yeah well, that doesn't seem to matter anymore. Moriarty has offered Sherlock a job and he's accepted. Not to mention snogging the hell out of his high class sniper..." "Moran?" John nods. "Jesus Sherlock. No wonder Jim was mad with him." Greg shook his head and put his head in his hands. John attempts to keep his tone calm despite the anger welling up at Sherlock. Maybe it's unfair, considering what he can guess the detective had gone through, but he's hurt and angry and he knows damn well that the fucking kiss wasn't forced. What can you tell us about Sherlock's current mental state?" "Taking into account that one minute he's ready to kill himself but the next he's accepting a job from London's most wanted criminal. I'm guessing not good." Greg shakes his head again. "He's changed John. More than you think He's not the man we know anymore." John lets out a wry laugh. "Yeah, kind of noticed, considering even bloody Mycroft is worried." He sighs, looking over at Greg. "Who shot you?" "Moriarty actually. He was beating the hell out of Moran when I went out to help him. But now, I come to think of it, if it wasn't for Moran, I'd be dead. He managed to calm him down enough that he only shot me twice." The inspector gave a shaky laugh. "I heard Moran is here too." John nodded "Along with another man known as Severin Moran? You know him?" "I didn't hear much but I think he's related to Moriarty's Moran." John walks over to the side of the bed, glancing over the bullet wound with a soft frown. "The bastard," he huffs, giving Lestrade a sympathetic look. "Are you feeling alright?" He'd hate for Greg to have to quit the force because the smug Irishman got an itchy finger."I've had worse. I'd rather have this than be dead. And anyway, you need to speak to the Morans. They'll help you get inside the building but once you get in there I guess you're on your own."
Greg smiles weakly at John before lying down. He shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
John smiles a bit as Greg drift off into sleep, glancing at his monitors before slipping out quietly. He gets directions to the Moran's' room, and walks in without preamble, feeling rather upset with Sebastian though he's determined to keep it firmly corked.
"Which of you worked for the fucking asshole?"
Good job, John.
Sebastian sighs. "That would be me. And guessing from your posture and tone of voice you somehow know what happened between me and your flatmate, Doctor Watson." Sebastian tilts his head allowing Severin to shuffle closer to him. He notes John's stance. Alert, tense. He knew. And it looked like he was ready to kill him. "Brilliant observation," he deadpans, blood boiling at the nonchalant tone of voice the sniper has taken on. Unapologetic. Not that it should bother him- Sherlock's a grown man. He can make his own decisions. If he's going to decide to fuck the two most wanted men in England, well, that's his decision. That doesn't mean John has to like it. "I'm not here for that, though," he says icily. For now, at least. "I need to know how to get into the headquarters." Sebastian just laughs harshly but then stops and thinks. "If it were just you on your own trying to get in for your own gain, I'd laugh in your face but because Sherlock is in there and whether you like it or not what happened, /happened/ and because of that I don't want to see my friend get hurt." That was John's breaking point. "FRIEND? You're the bloody reason he's being hurt!" Sebastian stood in front of him, challenging him. "And you're the reason he kissed me. He's given up on you John. And from what I can tell he doesn't want anything to do with you." John's fist flies forwards, colliding with Moran's cheek with enough force to make the strong man take a step back. Moran may be stronger, and taller, but John is far quicker, and dodges the returning blow. He goes for a low shot, kneeing the man in the groin and driving him to the floor with an angry snarl. "You've been with him for a day," he hisses, "and the first part of that day you were helping to torture him. I've been with him for years. He might not care, but don't you DARE insult me by calling yourself his friend," he hisses. Even though the world was a odd shade of green, Sebastian stood up and brushed off his clothes. "If it wasn't for me, he'd be dead. I only left a scratch. And yes, I may have only known him for a day, but I've protected him and, unless you haven't noticed, I've given up my entire career to save him. Which is more than what you've done. You led him to believe that he wasn't wanted and so he threatened to take his own life. Now you tell me that I wasn't a friend." His jaw tightens. He feels sick. He can't- won't- deal with this. "If you care about him, then tell me how to get in." He doesn't trust himself enough not to say something stupid and ruin any chance of getting Sherlock out. "Only if I can come with you." Sebastian looks at John dead in the eyes and doesn't leave his line of sight. John was wrong. He did care about Sherlock. It had just taken him a while to see that. Jim's harsh training had caused him to lose all emotion as he believed it would interfere with his line of duty. But not now. Now, all Sebastian cared about was getting Sherlock out of Jim's reach. Even if he was killed in the process. He has to take a few calming breaths before he can answer without snapping. "Fine." He's already formulating a plan. He tells himself this is no different than rescue operations he'd done in Afghanistan. Working with people he didn't like to save someone else. That both he and Moran seem to care deeply for Sherlock is irrelevant. Sherlock had already chosen anyways."There's two main ways of getting into the building but both are guarded highly at all time. One is usually patrolled by me but for obvious reasons Jim will have to find a replacement. That may take days, so I we want to get in, we got to do it soon."
Sebastian looks at his little brother.
"You stay here. The fewer of us there are the better. More than two and we'll be spotted."
"So what is the actual plan? Break in and bust him out? What if he doesn't want to leave?"
"Why would he do that?"
John gulped. In his anger he hadn't told Moran that Jim had offered Sherlock a job.
John frowns, shifting a bit.
"Jim has offered Sherlock a job. He's accepted." He feels a vicious sort of satisfaction, at Sebastian's sudden change in expression at his words.
"That's quick even for Jim and that messes up our entire plan. If we can get inside, Sherlock may shoot us where we stand. God knows what he could potentially do." Sebastian sits down and rubs his forehead. "This is going to sound bad John but you're going to have to trust me." Sebastian's lip curls back. "As much I hate to have to trust you,we're going to wait until another crime or murder pops up somewhere because then we'll know the real extent of the damage Jim's done to him."
John scrubs a hand through his hair.
"What? So we're just going to wait here and give the bastard more time to fuck around with Sherlock?" he snaps, scowling. "Waiting isn't going to make it any better. For God's sake, you and I were both soldiers at some point!"
"Then you should know when to attack and you should know when to lay low." Sebastian said darkly, under his breath. "Jim's confused me. He originally wanted Sherlock for nothing more than being a sex slave for him but now he's employed him? Neither of them seem to be thinking straight."
Sebastian's blond hair fell over his eyes again and he rubbed his shoulder where he'd been stabbed by Jim.
John's gaze is withering as he glares back at Sebastian.
"You say that as if your previous employer is actually sane," he replies in just as dark of a tone. "Makes sense for Sherlock to accept, all things considered, but not for James to offer."
Sebastian nods.
"I think we need to be thinking about what has made James, as we seem to be calling him, offer Sherlock the job. And what job, he has hundreds." He groans as he pulls on the stab wound when he moved. Severin scuttled forward, trying to stay as close to Sebastian as possible.
"Just who are you?" John snaps, glaring at the younger Moran.
Severin seems to shrink under John's gaze, curling up closer to his brother.
"S-Severin. Sebastian's twin," he manages to get out.
Sebastian glares at John, as if daring him to say something.
"Twin?" John's head snaps around to Sebastian. "Since when did you have a twin? Especially one that seems so-"
He was cut off by Sebastian knuckles cracking together.
"Since I was born," he deadpans, "And I suggest you refrain from allowing any more ill-considered comments to leave your mouth."
"He just seem so timid. So...different. How did that happen?" The comment accidently rolled off John's tongue before he could stop it.
Sebastian stood up angrily pulling his arm away from Severin's grip. He grabbed John by his wrist, twisted and pinned him to the wall.
John grimaces, resting his head against the wall and not bothering to try and get out of the painful hold on his arm.
Sebastian presses further forward.
"Anything else you want to say, Watson?" he growls.
John holds his tongue and shakes his head. Sebastian let go of his wrist and walked back over to his twin, who quickly huddled back against him, wrapping his thin arms around Sebastian's middle. His eyes met John's for a second before they screwed shut in fright. Severin was a whole lot thinner than Sebastian and he seemed terrified of just being here.
"What happened to you?" John murmured quietly.
Sebastian turns a sharp gaze on him, but does deign to answer the question this time in a tone that suggests that further discussion will not end well beyond his answer.
"Jim decided to use him as leverage to get me to work for him."
"Can't speak for himself?" Switching his gaze back to Severin, John could tell that this discussion wasn't going to end well.
Sebastian glowers, nearly ready to rip off the man's head. He stands, ruffling Severin's hair before standing and without further preamble grabbing Watson by the throat with his good arm and carrying him unceremoniously out of the hospital room and slamming him against the wall bodily.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" he snarls as John struggles, clawing at the hand around his throat.
"Your own little brother seems to be terrified of you? Why is that? Maybe it's not what Jim did, but what did you do?" John couldn't help but let a tiny smirk play on his lips, driving the sniper over the edge.
The resulting punch is enough to knock John's vision black for a moment, his cheek throbbing.
"You ignorant fucking prat. Of all people, Doctor, you should know the signs of PTSD. It didn't start with Jim. It started with our drunken ass of a father, who I killed after he beat Severin one too many times, and continued for the three years he spent on the street, while I was away fighting trying to support Severin. Another two and Jim found us, once I'd come back from the army, upon which we spent nine months being tortured every single day nonstop. He had me do it to Severin several times, to which I obliged because I was the kinder between the two of us," he hisses.
"You think that still justifies torturing your little brother because you claim to be kinder?" John laughed harshly. "And where were you when Severin was apparently being beaten by your dad, if you really cared, would you have done something sooner?"
He tightens his grip on John's throat, leaving him unable to breathe. He doesn't let up.
"I was protecting my mother as best I could," he snaps, driving a fist into John's stomach and leaving him without any oxygen at all. "How about when we go get Sherlock, I'll leave you with Jim and let you see just how kind I was?" he growls, watching John's struggles become slower as he doesn't let up.
John desperately groped at Sebastian's arm trying to loosen the grip but to no avail. Black patches started forming in front of his eyes. His legs kicked out automatically, trying to push up and get a breath in but he couldn't quite reach the floor.
He watches impassively for several moments before unceremoniously dropping him onto the floor.
"You have an astonishing lack of empathy, for a doctor. No wonder he left," he says coldly, turning and walking back into the hospital room with Severin.
The thinner man was huddled up on the bed arms around his knees.
"Basher? You...alright? What did..."
"It's alright," Sebastian hugged his twin and kissed the top of his head. "I promised I'd protect you and that's what I plan to do. Do you remember when I went to fight? What I told you?"
"Until the end?" Severin looked up at his brother.
"Until the end. Sebastian repeated, eyeing the door and making sure that that so called 'Doctor' didn't come storming in.
John doesn't go back in straight away. He's currently braced against the floor, panting heavily as oxygen rushes back into his lungs. After that he just sits against the wall for almost ten minutes. He knows Moran is right. What he'd just said wasn't right, wasn't okay, not even to a serial killer. He doesn't even know where that had come from. Was that what being jealous made him?
When he finally does renter, it's without the cocky and almost cruel air of before.
"I am sorry for what I said," he says quietly, gaze cast low.
Sebastian tilts his head. He thinks if they should take the talk outside but for some reason decides against it. He whispers something to Severin who lies down on Sebastian's bed and shuts his eyes.
"I'm sorry to; it's just...after everything's that's happened it's made me extremely protectiveover him. I've learned to be. It can mean a difference between life and death. It's hard to believe he's only an hour younger than me." Sebastian smiles sadly, all the violence and hatred had vanished from his eyes and now been replaced with hurt and pain, thinking back.
"It's just when Sherlock and I started talking a bit more, I saw how similar we were in a way. We both had been hurt some way in the past by someone we thought cared about us. Mine was my father, his was Victor Trevor."
John stops. Victor Trevor. The man Mycroft had mentioned earlier.
He sees John's expression and frowns a bit.
"Iceman didn't tell you, did he? Why Sherlock tries to keep his distance from most people?" He leans back, sighing a bit. "Victor Trevor was, as you most likely know, Sherlock's dealer. Cocaine. Sherlock, considering him a friend- his first friend for 18 years- moved rather quickly into a relationship, though he wasn't interested in sex. Victor eventually got tired of that and laced his drugs with a relaxant one night and took advantage while Sherlock couldn't fight back."
John stood back, shocked.
"Victor...he..."
"Oh yeah, slimy son of a bitch. Now works on Moriarty's retrieval team. Never liked the bastard."
Sebastian groans again and moves his arm stiffly.
"You alright there?" John looks at him concerned.
"Stab wound, tried to stop Sherlock from being beaten but ended up getting a knife thrown at me instead. The pain will pass soon."
Sebastian laughs, though it's not very convincing, and carries on with the story.
"Sherlock, being an addict and entirely inexperienced with relationships, was easily convinced that it was a show of caring as well as a new way to accept 'payment' when Mycroft cut him off in an attempt to stop his addiction. So of course, this kept happening, with Victor getting more and more violent for Sherlock's 'own good.' That is, until Mycroft found out and had Sherlock kicked out of University. A stupid move on his part. Sherlock disappeared for 4 months until Inspector Lestrade found him in a drug house, very nearly dead. Mycroft forced him into rehab, which I imagine is part of why they don't get along. He was a year clean when he met you."
"How come you know all of this?"
"Jim's a brilliant hacker. Iceman hasn't seemed to realize that." He closes his eyes, looking suddenly very tired. "The problem is, of course, that Sherlock is a masochist and still seems to have the propensity to be... addicted, to Victor."
John looks over at Sebastian, who still looks tired.
"We'll talk about this in the morning. You get some sleep," He peeks around him. "Looks like your twin is way ahead of you."
Sebastian turns around and sees Severin still curled up on his bed fast asleep, snoring gently. Despite everything, Sebastian finds himself nodding. He pulls his shirt off but leaves his trousers on and lies down on the bed besides Severin automatically wrapping one arm around him and pulling the blanket up to his chin. John is about turn and leave when he turns back to Sebastian.
"I really am sorry; I don't know what I was thinking. I'm just stressed and worried, that's all."
Sebastian says nothing; he just focuses on Severin like he always has and how he always will. Because in the end, he was all that mattered.
Hope everyone enjoyed that! I'll try and update tomorrow but most likely it'll be on Wednesday I upload! :3 Until then!
Read and Review :3