A/N: I am sorry for the late updates. I even promised 2 chapters two days ago and I still didn't get them done. I broke a promise and I apologize. I had PSATs on Wednesday and I passed out early Tuesday. Even today my lids are threatening to crash and never open again.

I will admit that this chapter may be a tad confusing to some. I'll explain a bit more in an end note but for now read/fav/follow/review! Enjoy the chapter. :)

EDIT: To LibraryCat9: I apologize for the confusion in this little bit. I admit that I did write that rather poorly. I hoped I fixed the colour issue I wrote earlier. Again, I am sorry for that. Also, thank you for bringing it to my attention as well as the "bounded" to "bound". Stupid errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

Chapter 9: Negative

A very distinct amount of pain on my wrists and ankles was the first to hit me when I awoke. It was like that of having pulled a muscle in your arm except perhaps more potent. Either way, it was definitely uncomfortable and more than a little seething of the skin.

The second aspect that came to my attention was the concussion I was probably suffering from. The big bloke probably plunged that object – whatever it was – on my head rather firmly to knock me out so completely. I would have been surprised if I hadn't woken up with a grieving headache pulsing with my heart beat. The small tributary falling down the side of my head confirmed even more so. I was injured, probably more than a little disorderly in my senses, and definitely restricted onto some sort of object.

Quietly in the background, I could sense the pain in my knee with heady competence. I thought I would be left with a few bruises from the attack, but I might have sustained greater wounds than suspected. It's going to be absolutely lovely explaining this to Mary tomorrow morning.

If I even bother going to work. At this point, I wasn't certain what my situation was and if there even was an certitude that I would leave these bonds intact and breathing.

Multiple emotions flitted through my mind like buzzing bees, each more aggravating than the last. I was annoyed because I was stronger than this and still managed to get caught and by a stealth attack at that. Disbelief trickled in afterwards. I expected Sherlock to be here with me but I haven't heard him and I haven't opened my eyes yet to see if he was unconscious. That was a little miffing. Perhaps Sherlock managed to lie low and not get caught? For me, that seemed rather slim, but maybe, just maybe, he did have some good points in him.

He may possibly be more than a juvenile, egotistical detective who seems to always know more information than he probably should.

Maybe.

That being said, I still haven't opened my eyes to see if he was here or not. I shouldn't praise the man for his skills if I don't know for sure if he has them.

The digression seeped away quickly, leaving me to ponder the last facet of my apparent detainee status.

Curiosity laced thickly with a sheen of apprehension fell like a curtain of foreboding consequences. What will happen to me now that I am clearly a hostage? Is there any way I can manipulate my situation for my beneficial usage? Those sort of questions poured into my head immediately with trepidation only enhancing the urgency. Remaining calm was easy on the outside, but inwardly I was beginning to worry.

Not just for myself, but for Sherlock. He was a magnet, a lure, which all the fish representing danger and disaster loved to fall for. What if he was in a worse situation than I was in?

Too many ifs and not enough certainties were beginning to cloud my mind and I pushed them aside with some difficulty. Now was not the time to react like a passive citizen. Now was the time to let my soldier side present itself to assess the situation before me.

That wasn't very difficult.

"Primarily, I should test my limitations. What I can and cannot move with no leeway about it," I prioritized.

I moved a little, stretching my bones and muscles, but my movement was constrained. Something around my waist and torso was also securing me and keeping me from doing any movement. So I was currently bound, but how strong were those bonds? If they were rope perhaps I could try and fiddle with them.

"If only I was that lucky," I thought sourly. "Look at the mess you are in. Certainly luck is not on your side and I doubt it will ever be." Nonetheless, I still went ahead with hopeful, halfhearted thinking.

Testing my bonds, I shook my wrists a little and heard the clinking of chains. Metal. Lovely. I twisted my wrists slowly and with minuscule precision but another bond – this one like rubber tubes – stopped me from performing anything. Letting my wrists relax, I gritted as the sensitive skin had the metal within contact once more. They rubbed harshly at my wrists and when I jerked a little at the sudden jab I realized my ankles were in much the same predicament.

Oh yes, luck was definitely not on my side.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful. Look what you got yourself in John. This is what you get for chasing childish, over-eccentric detectives in the middle of the night."

Yes. Over-eccentric and entirely reckless detectives that I will gladly haunt if I don't get out of here alive as I planned.

My eyes moved under my lids, wanting to see.

In all this time, I hadn't opened my eyes. I was preparing mentally for the worst for I have seen what The Sepia Order does and I wasn't sure if the same would occur to me. Would I gain the "yellow"scleras that they all have in common? I didn't even know what "yellow" was in my gray spectrum. For all I knew, the gray for someones "blue" may be the actual "yellow". I'm completely vulnerable and it irritated me beyond belief. Would I become mentally damaged? Too many dependents and I felt anxiety course through my veins, sidling with the adrenaline.

"I know you are awake," the voice was clearly American. I quirked my lips a little in disgust at the tone. It was fascinated and too gleeful for one looking at a prisoner. When I opened my eyes, I was met with dark gray ones framed by unruly black hair and an almost mid-gray complexion like that of an overseas tan. His smile was almost maniacal and his clothing was even more absurd. Ripped trousers douses with various shades of black white and gray, shirt untucked on one side and uniform on the other, tie not even in a knot of any sort: he was a mess thorough and thorough.

"You know, you have some brains to actually be able to find this place. Very intelligent indeed. You also must have some sense of strength and stealth since you knocked out both of my experiments quickly and without alarm." He sighed this time, apparently perplexed. "And I worked on them so hard. Oh well, the next batch would surely be better."

He spoke of them like they were experiments on petri dishes and not people with lives and souls to match.

"The next batch?" I probed as I observed the spacious warehouse room.

In every corner were beds, except the mattresses had been removed and only the stiff structure was behind it. I assumed that that was what I was currently attached to.

Behind the crazed man was a row of chemical equipment, each one more complex than the previous machine next to it. Some held flasks that were bubbling with a liquid that kept changing hues of grey and black. Some of them appeared to be straining the previous liquid. They were all for some purpose that I couldn't decipher.

"The next batch of my Sepians of course!" The man cried loudly. He had this grin that screamed he had spent too long on one project that was fruitless. A long experiment with many fiascos and disappointments to show the effort. At least, that is what I assumed. It appeared to be the case. Too many failures and he seemed like he had snapped or was pretty close to it.

"What about the next batch?" I asked further, hoping for him to respond.

He did without hesitation, "Oh, I always need a strong one to lead the others and you, my kind sir, have proved to be an incomparable specimen! You will do nicely if I do say so myself." He snickered to himself and I felt some fear settle in. Just a little. Not enough to make it noticeable but it was definitely there.

"And if I don't comply?" I countered. Damn it. I couldn't have kept my mouth shut. Of course not. That wasn't me.

I wasn't one to follow readily. I was a leader at one point so following isn't my best suit. I engage the enemy, not succumb to their tortures like a begging fool. That was pointless and weak, all of the aspects I despised in whatever mission I portrayed whether rescue or guard.

That being said, I didn't know exactly how to lead myself out of here which made all my previous statements completely irrelevant. I didn't know how to escape. These chains were definitely sturdy and I can't summon some miraculous power to break them. Even if I did escape, the injuries I have would definitely leave me in worst for wear. Overall, I couldn't deliberate a plan that would be successful.

"Sherlock probably would," I added internally, "Then again, I have no clue where he is. He certainly isn't here with me. Hopefully he didn't go get himself caught. Knowing his luck-" I paused my thoughts when I saw a flitting shadow behind the machines. Definitely humanoid or it looked like it. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the spot in hopes to catch a glimpse of the individual.

For once, it seemed luck spared a glance in my direction. The person behind it popped up for a moment and I immediately recognized it.

I would have glowered him down if the extremist hadn't spoken up.

"Well, you don't have to comply. I'm going to do so with or without your consent, but if you prove to be difficult I do have those wonderful wires that are attached to you."

I strained my neck and saw multiple cords wrapped around my ankles and wrists along with a single wire attached to my heart and one to my neck. They seemed to be attached to some metal needle or some sort of conducting wire that was under my skin. Electrocution. Today is just getting better and better.

I glared at him as he smiled innocently, "Yes, well, I do have plenty of electricity in this place. Using some to… well, put you in a soporific state wouldn't be too damaging to my tests. But enough talk, let me give you a little taste of what I could do if you prove to annoy me." With that, he grabbed a board beside him that was decorated with switches and two lights, the darker looking one on. I assumed it was the off button. That meant the other was the…

Flicking his fingers, he flipped the switch and almost instantaneously a vivid shock coursed through me, burning through my clothing to my skin and along my nerves. A million little shocks bit through me like having pirahnas chomping at you from the extremities to the center. It was painful but not like taking a bullet to the shoulder – as I have done – or falling into a trench on accident. This was different and even worse. I clenched my teeth hard to avoid screaming but it wasn't easy when it felt like I had been attached to a battery on high voltage.

When I was on the verge of screaming, the electricity stopped. The man had flipped the switch but I could still feel every single tingle and vibration still reverberating across my skin. Little catalysts waltzed along my hands and feet, gradually and slowly crawling up to my knees and elbows. It was slow and draining. My fingertips were numb and I wasn't so sure if I could walk at the moment even if I wanted to.

"Those were only two switches," he added with a grin, "Now imagine if I flipped the switch on your heart. I'm giving you .01 amps. That's enough to kill a person. Even a tough guy like you!" I knew that. I've seen that. He didn't have to tell me twice.

Or shock me in this case.

Either way, retorting against him was definitely not the way to buy time in this case. I would have to appeal to him, keel to him so-to-speak. I wasn't too thrilled at all, but Sherlock needed time and I would give him that.

"Why… why are you doing this?" I huffed in between breathing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sherlock peek his head up once more to nod at me. If I could, I would have flipped up a few non-descriptive fingers in his direction but I was bounded. Not to mention that would also reveal his location. I still couldn't stop the feeling of annoyance from flushing my mind. He was giving me his bloody approval! That git. Instead of nodding in my direction he should be helping me out of here!

I took a deep breath. Calm down Watson. He's probably got some genius plan to do just that. Certainly he isn't wasting time trying to figure out whatever chemical the man is brewing or even the purpose. Clearly he must be putting his and your safety first.

Obviously.

I chuckled softly, too low for the American to notice. Yeah, I highly doubt it. Sherlock didn't appear the type to actually put somebody's wellbeing before the case, including his own judging from our introductory meeting.

So I would have to wait for him to be ready. Until then, preventing any more damaging shocks are to be my top priority. Along with any other damage or alterations this mad man has set to make his "perfect soldier". I was to act the "Damsel in Distress".

I'm going to end up killing him myself when we get out of this.

"Why…" I tried again for the man clearly didn't hear me the first time, "Are you doing this?" I attempted to convey my voice over to him but all I got was a distant look.

"Hm?" The man questioned. He didn't hear my question.

Third times a charm.

"Why are you doing this?" I repeated, my voice a little stronger now. The small tremors that licked my skin weren't as painful as before.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" His voice became soft. His entire form changed, his laughter now low and sinister, "I'm trying to do you all a favor. I'm trying to restore color! I'm trying to restore balance."

"Balance?" I encouraged. Anything to keep this man talking.

"Freedom from mating! Freedom from a predetermined fate! Freedom. Doesn't that word dance across your tongue with a good flavor? It should for that is what we are meant to have as human beings. As people of this world!"

I watched the man wearily. All the while, I vaguely noticed Sherlock off to the side seemingly pulling a few plugs here and there while following others. The man hadn't noticed. He was too into his own bravado to care.

Sherlock gave me a look to be quiet and I rolled my eyes. I hope he knows what he is doing.

Let me rephrase that: He better know what he is doing for he is the only hope I have for possibly getting out of these chains and wires.

"May I ask what amuses you so?" The voice beckoned me once more and I glanced at him, the fear from before gone and replaced with only an inkling of concern for Sherlock.

"Nothing at all. I just find it intriguing that you haven't explained how you plan to restore color. You have stated what you want, not what you have."

The man paused before mumbling something, the words gradually getting louder, "What I have? What do I have? I have serum, the renouer teinte. It will restore color in the brightness it was!"

"More like a load of rubbish," I wanted to mutter but bit my tongue hard. Experimentally looking in Sherlock's direction, I quirked my brow but he shook his head.

Sherlock motioned for me to continue asking questions as he followed a combination of cords to the back of the warehouse. I decided to question his motives later when I wasn't in danger. Hopefully soon.

"Any results?"

His eyes brightened, "Finally! A specimen taking interest in what their future will be! Yes, oh yes, we have had lots of progress. We have had people regain their yellows and reds but it seems to only be the sepia colors," he paused looking at me with a knowing expression, "Oh, but you don't know what those colors are, do you? You are your monochrome sight. Ah, but don't worry. You will soon. We also seem to have some physical alterations but nothing surgery can fix nowadays."

I abhorred the way he said that. He made it sound like being a Monochrome was completely pitiful even though I had no doubt he was one himself. How did he know what those colors were? "Yellow"? "Red"? Unless he did those... experiments onto himself, I fail to see how he knows more of the limited spectrum than I do.

But something more caught my attention.

I frowned, "We?"

The man nodded vigorously, "Yes! We. J.M is what he calls himself! He never shows himself it seems, but that is beside the point. He provides me funds. He is interested in my work. That's all I need to continue."

J.M? An abbreviation no doubt. This American speaks of him fondly, like J.M. is his master, his leader.

"In fact, he would probably be interested profoundly in how you will react to the tests since you are so strong, mentally and physically! I can just see it now!" The man grabbed a syringe and slithered towards me, his eyes now brightly examining me like a new toy. "Color will splash lively into your vision and you will thank me. You will! You'll see!" He snickered and I cringed against the metal bed frame.

"Ah, I fear that that is where you have to stop, doctor."

With a loud buzz, the lights went out. The moonlight that poured in through the windows was the only source of lighting.

The American scientist nearly screeched, "What have you done?! It has taken me a month to prepare that serum! A month!"

"And it seems you will have to wait yet another. Now, Doctor Watson, how would you clarify this man? In your doctorate terms if you will? Genius? Creative?"

"Mad," I deadpanned as I waited for my eyes to adjust.

"Oh, do you truly think so? I think his methods are rather innovative."

"Of course you would," I sighed, rolling my eyes, "Nonetheless, can you pause your admiration to help me? As strong as you perceive me to be, I doubt I have the miraculous strength to suddenly rip these chains apart."

"All in due time, John."

After Sherlock said this, I suddenly realized the doctor that was previously moaning about preparations was now completely silent. Too silent.

"Sherlock," I called out.

"I know," he responded with no emotion. Almost like a one-eighty, his tone changed to one a twinge full of concern, "Doctor? I wouldn't do that if I were you. You don't know what that could do."

By this time my eyes adjusted and I peered around, trying to find Sherlock and the doctor. I spotted them in the moonlight, the doctor in the direct light (when had he moved?). A reflection caught my gaze and I realized he had the syringe in his hands, seemingly prepared to stick it in himself.

"You took away my only experiment. This is the last of the readily created serum. I can't use it on the specimen because he would turn on me. I don't want to risk such valuable research. No. No, using it on me would be best. This would definitely be best." With that he jabbed the syringe in his heart and plunged the serum.

Everything stilled. The wind was nonexistent. My breaths seemed all but vacant. I couldn't even see Sherlock breathing.

The next murmurs were quiet but they held a distinct amount of madness in its being.

"Color… color…"

"Sherlock," I called again, quieter.

"Hush, John," the detective replied, inching towards me.

I wanted to tell him to hurry up, to either knock the man out or help me, but I knew the dire situation we were in. It wasn't something that could be easily dismissed.

The man in the moonlight stood straight. His posture was fixed. He was perfectly still.

Something was different. The aura around him. Iridescence had a white and the Discoloured had a black. This man's aura malformed constantly. It never remained the same. Black to white to grey and back. Always changing. Always some other shade of white and black. I had a feeling that if I could see color it would be that of a "rainbow" or all of the colors.

I felt something grip my wrist and a spark followed. Flinching automatically, I jerked my wrist from his grasps before relaxing, allowing him to take the chains I assumed he was trying to break. Sherlock paused for a moment, though (hesitance?) I tried to look at him but he was in my blind spot. All I could see was the brief flickers of a silhouette or the spark of our hands brushing every so often.

The mad man was humming in the distance as Sherlock fiddled with the confinements.

A second later I heard the chains snap and one of my wrists were free. A minute more and I was free from all my bonds. I plucked a few stray wires off of me and took a step.

Ah, tried to. I tried to take a step.

My knees buckled immediately. I probably would have landed on my face had Sherlock not caught me, throwing my arm over his neck. Thanking him silently, I struggled to balance my weight on the aching, shocked ankles and injured knee.

"Careful, John. We wouldn't want to have the brute come over here, now would we?"

I nodded, keeping my lips in a thin line to not make the pain I was in known. That wouldn't help our situation. I didn't even know if the American wanted to kill us or experiment on us.

"Color!" The man cried once more, dancing around a little, "Oh, this is glorious!"

"Sherlock," I warned, "Surely we cannot leave him here?"

Sherlock pursed his lips before sighing, "I suppose not. But I can't have you here either since you are certainly injured and might have a few organs and nerves shocked from the previous spark. It would end up ruining any plan I make with taking your dependence into the equation. If only you had kept you tongue still, you probably would have avoided the shock."

"Which one?" I thought with a roll of my eyes, "The mating one or the electricity? Both were rather painful so I can't tell the difference in what you mean."

But I said nothing.

"Maybe we should-" I started but was cut off swiftly with the outcry of the entranced man.

"Oh! Boys, perhaps you should stop bickering over my debacle. I don't think I'm going to linger and test on you now so you can leave if you want. I could kill you, but who knows how long these brilliant hues will last! You have places to be, I know I have places to be! J.M. will certainly be pleased with this!" The man swung around one of the beams holding the warehouse up before hopping up a little ledge to the open window Sherlock came through earlier.

"I suppose it is thanks to you that my success was finally achieved! So for that, you will definitely not die. That being said, you won't die from my hands. I do have a few stray failed Sepians but that is for you to discover. They might have all left by this point. Who knows?" With a giggle, he hopped down and was gone. I cursed under my breath while Sherlock stared after him thoughtfully.

"J.M." He murmured pensively. "He appears to be on everyone's lips. Even the deceased."

"Excuse me?" I turned to him and he shook his head.

"Another time, John. For now, we should get out of here and preferably back to the flat." It was almost a robotic response. Like he was trying to avoid the topic. I didn't try to breach it now. That would involve energy that was beginning to wane.

No, I'll wait until I am stronger and then I'll interrogate him. I'm sure he realizes how many bloody questions he owes me answers to. Too many.

Sherlock turned and led us into the shadows. I was confused where he was leading us until he reached out and gripped something. A moment later a door opened and light from the outside shown in like a sudden reflection. I blinked it away and let Sherlock guide me.

Sparks and shivers danced across my skin and nerves. My heart and brain was crying out that my mate was right here next to me. They were telling me that I was only postponing this. It was painful mentally and physically. I was suffering alone.

"John?" I peered up but Sherlock was looking around, his head facing the direction we came from. I could see from the faint lighting that his jaw was tense as well as his muscles. From what I observed, that was one of the main tell-tale signs that he was thinking.

"Yes?" I huffed.

He paused. "Nothing. Forget I ever said anything."

I laughed though it was strained. "Nothing never pertains to you from what I have come to understand Sherlock. Besides, why would I forget something you said when it is more than likely important?" Sherlock never replied and the adrenaline was ebbing off so I didn't feel like bickering.

On the way back to the flat I considered what that man said. It was a mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and utter disbelief, but I still attempted to remember. I knew that once morning came I would never believe I had gone through this. I would never believe that Sherlock does this for a living nonetheless.

J.M. A name but for who does it belong to?

And why does it seem like that is a name I should be wary of? Even more than the color-crazed scientist?

A/N: I'll explain a few things here that may not have been clarified because my brain is scattered and runs on tangents a lot.

The Sepia Order - They want to restore color by means of scientific experimentation. Many of their tests have, however, been failures resulting in the subjects to have yellow scleras, yellowed nails, multiple mental or sensual issues, and, if they still have their sight, a sepia hue instead of monochrome.

The American Scientist - He does show up later. No, he's not some random character that is slightly on the crazy side. His name isn't mentioned here for good reason. You'll see why later.

J.M. - Don't need to clarify that do I? :)

The other Sepians mentioned - If you must know, all Sepians are not brain dead zombies. They are still human with hearts and souls. They are still them but they look different. That being said, they run away the first chance they get except for the two that John and Sherlock knocked out.

Did I cover any tangents this chapter may have had? If not, PM or review and I'll try to explain to the best of my capability. ^^ Ciao~