Brightness stains Sherlock's vision; he groans faintly as he slits his eyes open enough for the light to hurt. Extremely sensitive to light, not a good sign.
"Wake up, love."
Sherlock's heart aches. He feels like he's been crying for weeks, for months, but he doesn't know how long he's been asleep now.
Ben rips the tape off Sherlock's lips and Sherlock winces. He licks his lips and tastes dry blood.
"I'm sorry for breaking your nose, darling," Ben says. "I just…my temper, you know?"
Ben rubs a warm clothe on Sherlock's face, cleaning the blood from his lips and chin. Sherlock tries not to cry, fearing what Ben will do if he does, but he squeezes his eyes shut.
Ben finishes with cleaning Sherlock up, then he reaches to Sherlock's side and brings a tray in front of Sherlock. The tray looks like a tray surgeons keep their tools on, and on it is a plate of steak, potatoes, peas, and a roll of bread. Ben moves so the tray can take his place.
Sherlock stares at the food. It could be poisoned. However, at this point, Sherlock really can't bring himself to care if it is.
"I promise it's not poisoned," Ben sweetly says. "Please, just eat it."
Sherlock glances at him once, then lifts his hands (still ziptied together) and starts to eat.
"How are you feeling, love?"
Sherlock doesn't say anything. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to know, wants to scream, but he doesn't have the strength to.
"Tired, I'm sure," Ben says. "As soon as you're done eating, you can go back to sleep."
Sherlock, of course, doesn't want that, but he'd rather sleep than talk to Ben any longer.
"I'm done," Sherlock hoarsely whispers. His throat won't let words come out.
"You sure?" Ben asks.
Sherlock nods.
Ben grabs his plate and throws it, food and all, against the wall next to the door. Sherlock winces at the loud crash, his stomach turning in fear.
"Goodnight then, love," Ben says.
Sherlock's out again in less than a minute.
John had never noticed before all of this how much of a dick Mycroft Holmes is. Before, and ever since they were kids, John never minded being with Mycroft. Mycroft was kinder and fairly patient with the two boys, and he was always very supportive of their relationship. But now Mycroft treats John like he's the absolute last person who needs to know anything.
If anyone, Mycroft should be mad at Lestrade. Lestrade could have at least personally made sure Sherlock made it home. They think he got swiped from NSY, that's all on Lestrade.
Either way, John doesn't care to see either of them. He's been trying his best to stay away from Sherlock's house, no matter how much he wants to find out what's going on.
All John does is school, homework, and counseling. He calls Clement any chance he can, and Declan lets John know everything he overhears, but there isn't much.
"Mycroft's staying a while longer," Declan tells John at school in their study hall period. "He and my uncle got in a fight last night and Mycroft quit his job."
"What?!" John cries in complete shock. He can't believe it. He knows Mycroft hates his job, but he never thought Mycroft would quit.
"He said Paris can take over for him now rather than in a few months."
"Wow," John says. "That's…I can't believe that."
Declan shrugs. "It was a pretty intense fight. Lestrade had to step between them."
"Wow. Well, I guess…good for Mycroft."
"He's being a huge arse, though. Can't even stand the sight of me."
"Well…" John looks at Declan, who could pass as Sherlock's twin. "You could get a haircut and we'd all be able to look at you."
Declan laughs and runs a hand through his hair that's grown to be nearly as long as Sherlock's, only straight. "El wants me to get a haircut anyway. I'll do that this afternoon."
"Please, take my mind off of all of this. How is Ellery?"
"She's perfect," Declan says with a huge smile. "She's so great. I love her so much."
John beams at him. The look on Declan's face is a visual representation of how he feels when he thinks about Sherlock.
"You look happy."
"I am happy."
John rubs his face. "I want to be happy again."
"You will be," Declan says. "He'll be back. I just know it."
John looks at him. "How do you know?"
"Sherlock and I are twins. We have twin psychic abilities."
John laughs. "Yeah, right."
"Honest. Twins separated at birth. They put a different date on my birth certificate, a few weeks after his."
John laughs. "Totally possible, sure."
Declan just smiles. "Honest."
John rubs his face again. "I don't know, Dec. Every day, I just…I feel more and more—"
"Stop, John, stop."
John looks at Declan.
"You can't think that way. You have to…you know, you have to have faith. You have to know in your heart that he's okay. I know I do. I know in my heart that he's okay."
"Yeah?"
Declan nods.
John takes a deep breath. "Okay. You're right, I'm sorry."
"I know. I understand."
John nods.
Declan checks his watch and stands. "Hey, I gotta go. I've got a date with our lovely school counselor."
John laughs. "Okay. Have fun."
"Will do," Declan says, grabbing his bag and leaving the library.
Sherlock wakes up what feels like only a minute after he last spoke to Ben. It's still dark, but he's aware that there's someone right in front of him.
"Out the door, go left. Keep going until you find a door and run through it. Any door. Hide or run."
It's not Ben. Sherlock assumes it's the man who has been administering his IV. He smells like cigarettes.
"Just run. You have about twenty minutes before he returns."
Sherlock wants to ask why, but there's tape over his mouth still and everything is happening too fast. The man pulls Sherlock to his weak feet and starts to lead Sherlock out of the room when the door swings open. Sherlock stops immediately and falls to the ground, and Ben just grabs the other man and yanks him out of the room.
A second later, Sherlock hears a gun shot. He doubts he'll ever see that man again.
Ben doesn't return, to which Sherlock is very thankful, so he climbs back up onto the cot and lays on his side. He cries, willing himself back to sleep, wishing he could hear John's voice for a second. But right when he thinks of that, of John's voice and laugh and John saying "I love you," he feels like throwing up. He suddenly feels nauseas and has to rip the tape off to vomit.
Before he falls asleep again, he wonders how he throws anything up. He hasn't eaten anything in what he assumes now to be days. But he doesn't have enough strength to stay awake and figure out what's happening, so he lets his eyes slip closed and lets himself drift to sleep.