When Windows Shatter Part II
Mar. 12th, 2012 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anomoly_fetishA/N: this twoshot is locked to only my access list.
And this is about as graphic as I get when I write.
“Sherrrrrrrly. Sherrrrrrrrly.”
And this is about as graphic as I get when I write.
“Sherrrrrrrly. Sherrrrrrrrly.”
A voice sounded out of the darkness, echoing in his cell.
Strange that his name should be called, this was quite rare. Usually His Majesty just sauntered in and commanded attention.
The tug on the chains pulled him to his feet, not that he went willingly, but the grunt he uttered almost caused him to lose what little food he had in his system.
The tiny light from the hallway behind his captor made him want to shiver.
“You know, we found John. Do you want to see him?”
He nearly choked on a firm no but he kept his mouth shut. It was better if he didn’t protest. It only made things worse.
“I know you do.”
He winced at the bright halogens that flashed on, his eyes adjusted to complete darkness.
He winced at the bright halogens that flashed on, his eyes adjusted to complete darkness.
“Of course, he is a little unrecognizable because of his rather unfortunate head wound and the fight he put up. He was brave, you should be proud of your little pet.”
A body was carelessly tossed on the floor and Sherlock made a move for it, but he was yanked back.
“Ah, ah, not til I say you can touch it.”
Him. John. Would he know for sure if John was dead?
The body was facedown, there was a bloody mass for the back of his head. The back was littered with cigarette burns and signs of other abuse.
He was going to be sick, but he swallowed it down, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it was. His throat was burning with the acid. His body protested for water, but he didn't bother asking, knowing quite well the answer.
There was no reason to bother to.
“A little different when it’s your pet isn’t it?”
The body was rolled over and he winced.
His brain told him in rapid fire what had been done, but tried not to let it process.
Pretend he knew it was John, when he really didn’t know - the face.
The face was an unrecognizable mass, the nose was broken, the mouth with broken teeth, the lips curled back.
The pain was sharp, his emotions surely betrayed him, and the response from Moriarity confirmed that.
“Oh. Oh.“ He breathed in delight. “You finally feel something, don’t you, pretty-boy with the ugly name?”
His eye twitched as he fought to restrain the emotion that welled up. He hadn’t been injected … this wasn’t the fear toxin…
Moriarty displeased was painful.
Moriarty pleased in this way was dangerous.
And his moods were so unpredictable; Sherlock had nothing to go on.
A click. Screaming in pain, though what from he didn't discern.
“No! Stop!”
“He died because he hated you, John. He couldn’t stand to be around you with your tidy little ways, and…”
Sobbing. “Please. You didn’t - you didn’t know, you didn’t…”
“What? Did you think you were special? Should have seen his last experiment. There wasn’t anything left when he was finished with her. Except for the skull, of course.”
“You’re lying!”
A sickening smack against tender flesh. “Don’t. Shut. Up. Just shut up. Don’t you know that’s what annoyed him? You babbling about this, you babbling about that, you going on about your girlfriend.” The voice dropped to a low, imitation, mocking. “Soo. Borinng.” Then laughter, horrible laughter - and there were more people in the room….not just Moriarty and John. The henchmen. And the woman.
Sherlock didn’t need to hear the rest of the tape to know what happened next, the body had told him that wretched story, but it continued anyway, and his heart wrenched at the terrible sounds that emaniated from Moriarty's hand.
Sobbing, gasping for a shred of humanity when there was none left.
“It’s all up to you, John - is it really worth living, pretending he’ll come back, when he’s DEAD?” The word echoed in the room.
A click. The safety was off.
No John… please. I -
A bang.
Then silence.
The tape clicks off, and he didn’t realize that his eyes were too bright, watery even.
“Did you like that, hmm?”
He swallowed, the words caught.
“N-no. Y-your Highness.” It was all he could do to attempt to not spit the word in revulsion.
“And now you’re just what you always wanted, aren’t you Sherly? Friendless.”
“Yes, your Highness. Exactly as it should be.” His voice was flat, the emotion gone, even though every fibre of him wrenched in protest.
“Thank me for my kindness, for showing you the proper way.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
They left so quickly he didn’t realize he was alone. With the body.
He couldn’t believe that was John, how could he go -…
He could go back to 221B. Where he had been safe in the first place.
The door unlocked, and the horrible little man in the lab coat glinted at him, with his needle dripping.
He cringed, knowing what came next as he seized his still-throbbing elbow and injected the poison.
The drug coursed strongly through his bloodstream, made rapid by his starved system.
He convulsed from the agony that ripped through his brain, unsure of reality. When he woke up on the floor, covered in his own sick, he dimly noted that his head hurt and his wrists stung at the touch.
He must have tried to pull loose during the ordeal, likely had inflicted pain on himself.
Fear tugged at him.
He hadn’t asked permission.
Is that it?
on 2013-09-21 07:57 pm (UTC)There's somewhat of a rewrite
on 2013-09-21 08:13 pm (UTC)But yeah, I have no further plans with it at present. Although I should.
Re: There's somewhat of a rewrite
on 2013-09-21 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-21 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-21 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-21 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-21 09:28 pm (UTC)