"Alright, so what's his game plan?" Jayden asked. "Give me a little more to go on. I mean, I've never even met the guy."
"You'd almost have to to believe him." John said. "He's twisted."
"We'll make a great match for him then." Jayden said. "Describe him. Goals, motivations, stuff like that. What does he want?"
"He's-" John began, but the ringing of his mobile cut him off.
"You should probably answer that." Jayden said. "Sherlock, go."
John walked out into the hallway and answered the mobile.
"Hello?"
"Ah, John, dear, this is Mrs. Holmes. Could you get Sherlock for me, please? He wasn't answering his phone. I get the feeling he's been ignoring my calls."
John pulled the phone down to his chest, moaning "No, no, no, no, no." After a moment of self pity, he quickly brought the phone back up to his ear, fake smiling involuntarily as he tried to put on a facade of pleasantness.
"I'm afraid he's in the middle of investigating a case right now." John spoke, doing his best to sound convincingly at ease. "I could have him call you back later, if you'd like?"
"That's too bad. There is something that I very much wish to speak to him about."
"I could give him a message, maybe?" John asked, scrambling for purchase in the inwardly awkward conversation with his flatmate's mother.
"That would be most appreciated, thank you John." Mrs. Holmes said. "Could you tell him that I wish to discuss the possibility of his keeping Jayden awhile longer. In our time abroad my husband and I came upon a business opportunity that we wish to take advantage of, but it will require our being away awhile longer."
"Yes, alright." John said. "And if I may ask, how much longer are you thinking of?"
"Oh, don't you worry, just another week or two. I do hope he's not getting in the way."
"No, no, of course not. He's been nothing short of an angel." John said.
"Do you know how his studies are getting along? Has he been doing well in them?"
John froze, We've totally forgotten.
"Uh... Yes, he's been doing fine. Very well, in fact."
"Ah, well I'm glad too hear it. I look forward to seeing the improvement when I return."
John swallowed thickly.
"If there's nothing more to discuss..." He said.
"I won't keep you any longer." Mrs. Holmes said. "Just remember to tell Sherlock to contact me later."
"Yes, of course." John said. "Have a good day, Mrs. Holmes."
"And you as well, John Watson."
John hung up the phone and sighed in relief.
Slowly, dreading the conversation to follow, he walked back into the room where Sherlock, Jayden, and Lestrade were working.
Sherlock felt Jayden staring over his shoulder as he drew out a web map of Moriarty's network, explaining the connections between them as he did his best to ignore the images that flashed past his eyes. Not all bad ones, really, some his time in the web was actually a bit pleasant.
There were times, only a few, but some, when he was calm. When he was at peace, and was willing to accept what ever fate lay before him. When he was done fighting, ready to take what ever was given him.
This peace came at a cost. When he achieved it, that was the price. For it never came when he was done and had no battles left to win, instead, it came when he had no strength left to fight. When this war of life had taken so much of him that he had nothing left to offer. Only when his will was lost did peace come.
He would die.
That's it. Fair and square, no twists, no turns, no way to escape the inevitable. Finally, he was going to be finished. No more fear, no more pain.
And then something happened. The guards would leave him alone for just a few minutes too long or his bonds would loosen and he could escape, or a team would come in and pull him out. When these things happened, when he saw the opportunity to escape or when he watched as one of Mycroft's teams poured in and got him out, he couldn't help but feel the slightest disappointment. I guess it's not my day to die.
"What?"
Sherlock jumped out of his daze and back into the real world. Disorientation leaving a sense of panic behind with it. Not because of the topic of his thoughts, but by the fact that the impossible could seem so real and the after taste so strong. It took him a moment to figure out who had spoken, a moment to confirm what world he was in. He knew it, logically, but the hand that had slowly slid onto his shoulder while obviously there, didn't seem real.
"Sherlock, you alright?"
It was a strange sensation being panicked in one world, yet relaxed in another, causing a more exaggerated response in both.
"Sherlock?"
Should probably answer, real or not.
Another image forced it's way into his mind.
The scent of strong liquor stun his nostrils and fear laced his mind, a panic coming with it. Hands grabbed his shoulders and began to quickly guide him down the hallway, aiming him towards any room but the kitchen where a heated fight was taking place. Words he'd been told that should never be spoken were thrown around as if they were butter on popcorn, not just drizzled, but drenched throughout their screams, with at least a little sliding between every word. The anger wasn't sharp, it wasn't directed. it was blunt, and felt as though it were beating down on your back over and over, and over again. The hands that had been guiding him were suddenly ripped away and he heard a yelp of surprise, then a grunt of pain. The face of his protector was just as angry as it was fearful, and he crumbled in pain when punch after punch assaulted his not only his face, but stomach. When the older boy went down, the younger stared up at their attacker with simple acceptance. Fear in his eyes there was no longer, but neither was there hope. All that was left was acceptance.
"Sherlock, can you hear me?"
A nod, slight, barely noticeable, yet it confirmed that at least a portion of Sherlock's mind was with him.
"John." Sherlock said, his eyes finally glancing slowly away from the spot where they had been fixed for the past several minutes. After a moment, he met John's eyes, his expression there, yet still unreadable.
"You just... stopped talking, stopped moving..." John said. "I told Lestrade and Jayden that you were in your mind palace."
Once again, Sherlock nodded.
A/N: So, how'd you like this one. I'm sorry I haven't posted, I've been busier than expected, as well as procrastinating on my paper. Watching Supernatural on Netflix is much more appealing than the "Socioeconomic Inequalities Throughout the Industrial Revolution." I had a blast (in a depressing, sad, yet peaceful sort of way) and I'd love to know what you guys think of it. Do you think I'm putting Sherlock in his mind a little too much? Any scenes that you'd like to see? I'm always open to ideas.