Jayden leaned John up against the wall, checking him over for injuries.

"Bruises and scrapes, but nothing too bad." Jayden muttered to himself. "Good."

John continued mumbling weakly, saying something about how it was all his fault.

"Stop saying that, it's not like you chose to get kidnapped." Jayden said. "It's not your fault."

"You... don't understand..."

"I'm pretty sure they gave you a sedative of some sort. Don't bother talking. I probably won't understand you. Just rest." Jayden said. "Sherlock and Lestrade will take care of the men out there..."

Jayden trailed off after hearing the click of the gun. Cold metal pressed against his neck.

Mycroft sat at his desk watching the happenings through several well placed security cameras.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion and surprise as the gun was pointed towards Jayden.

That wasn't supposed to happen. They're taking too much of a risk. No one is supposed to actually get hurt.

Mycroft made a grab for his mobile, quickly dialing a number.

"This is Mycroft Holmes, I demand that you have your men remove the gun from the back of my brother's neck, or else you'll find it comfortably pressed against yours." Mycroft's voice was sharp and hard, clearly furious about his previous orders being disobeyed.

Mycroft listened for a moment before cutting them off.

"I don't care if you're testing your newer men, do not hurt them."

They- they were faking it. They weren't actually unconscious, dazed maybe, but not unconscious. Apparently those goons were smarter than I thought they were. Ugh! I should have known that I wouldn't be strong enough to knock them out! How stupid can I be? They didn't even act well!

Jayden slowly raised his arms to either side of his head, displaying that he had no weapon.

"Back away from him." The first guard prompted.

Jayden hesitantly stood, not wanting to comply, but not wanting to get his head blown off either.

The first guard nodded to his companion, who then reached down and pulled John into a standing position. A gun was pressed to his head as well.

"Cooperate," The guard said, "and you won't die. Probably."

"So reassuring." Jayden muttered.

Lestrade rammed his elbows into the ribs of the man behind him repeatedly. He doubled over coughing when the man's grip left his neck.

"You alright?" Sherlock called out.

Lestrade nodded, giving him a quick thumbs up, before connecting another assailant's head with the stock of his gun.

Sherlock looked as though he were about to say something, but when his gaze turned towards the back of the building, the words died in his mouth. Following Sherlock's actions, Lestrade looked towards the same area.

All went quiet.

Pushing Jayden and John along in front of them, the two guards came out.

Sherlock's eyes rolled over both of their faces; Jayden's was showing a look of stubbornness, but hidden well beneath it was the undeniable undertone of fear.

The doctor's was more one of resignation, as well as one of... What was that? Guilt? Anger? A mix of the two?

Not important. Sherlock tried to drill into his mind.

"Drop the weapons, or we'll shoot them." The man, who seemed to be the leader of the rest, said.

It was then Sherlock and Lestrade came to the realization that they had been surrounded in the time that they had stared at the captives. Several guns were now pointed at the both of them.

Seeing no other way out of it, Sherlock and Lestrade slowly set their guns on the floor, keeping their eyes on the men. Sherlock's hand twitched as Lestrade kicked the guns away.

"Good. Now get onto the floor, hands behind your head."

Sherlock and Lestrade did as they were told, kneeling on the concrete.

"Alright, now stay there."

Sherlock closed his eyes hoping to help curb outside sensations. He needed to think.

Deja vu struck him like lightening.

A huge person with dark hair and wild electric blue eyes held a gun to his head, and arm snaked around his waist, holding him tightly. There were screams, three people fighting, yelling at each other. He could feel tears starting to snake their way down his cheeks, and he tried to rub them off on his shirt before anyone saw them. Before he could, he felt a large hand roughly wipe them away. The gun pressed harder into his head. He heard some blurred words, but he was unable to make out the meaning of them. However, the harsh and unforgiving tone was clear. Fear welled up inside of him, and it was that fear that he used to staunch the tears. He silently repeated the words that had been drilled into him since the day he was born.

'My name is Sherlock. I am a locket, and someday, my chains will break.'

There was more to it he knew, but that was all he could remember.

He closed his eyes, locking his whimpers fear inside of his mind. He promised himself that what was inside the metal of his mental locket would never come out again.

Cold metal brushed past curly brown locks, crashing against his head.

All went dark.

Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock, who was mumbling something just barely audible.

"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock's head snapped over, and he stared at Lestrade confused for a moment.

"What?" He asked.

"You said, 'More to it.' just a few seconds ago." Lestrade clarified. "What did you-"

"No talking!" The guard demanded.

Lestrade mentally rolled his eyes.

Apparently the men hadn't planned quite this far, and were having difficulty deciding what to do with them.

"I said, let them go!" Mycroft said. "You promised me that no one would be hurt, and you have failed. Release them, or I will go down there and release them myself!"

Mycroft rarely got so worked up over the disobedience of his men, but that was partially because it didn't happen often. He knew he had run a risk when using men from a newer, more unreliable source, but he had thought the difference in cost would make it worth it. Though the world didn't seem to think it, Mycroft did make a monthly budget for his own spending. His parents were still living, it wasn't their money that got him here. He had worked to gain for his position, and only a minuscule amount of it had been pleasurable.

A switch flipped in Mycroft's mind, and his rage quickly turned to a calm.

"Alright then, if you're not going to cooperate, I'll come down there myself." Mycroft said. His voice dripped with venom. Mycroft's anger was like a poison. Invisible to begin with, but in the end, all those affected die in agony.

"I'll be there in less than twenty minutes. Expect me," Mycroft said. "I won't be alone."

A/N: I probably should have taken this chapter a bit further, written a bit more, but I wanted to give you something to read. I know I've been a tad slow lately, so here you go. I've been dragging my feet on this part, primarily because I've just had a lot of fun imagining the aftermath of all of this. If I'd just stay more focused I might actually get there some day.

Thank you for all of the awesome reviews!