Chains (Johnlock)

Chapter 7

*~*~* So @iamjohnlocked221b inspired this chapter, so a big thanks to their brilliance. Also, you a probably have either stopped reading or hate me for not updating, and I am so sorry. I've had a lot going on and was unable to focus or think straight with the kind of stuff going on. But, enjoy this chapter!!!! (Also, I saw Thor: The Dark World and The Day of the Doctor in theatres. BOTH ARE AMAZING!!)*~*~*

Sherlock's P.O.V. (3 Months Later)

Finally. He had gotten rid of every single person standing in his way of getting to John. Of course, it was quite easy. Whoever was at the top of the chain now wasn't nearly as interesting as Moriarty.

Getting a cab, Sherlock immediately phoned his big brother. "Hello, brother dear."

"What do you want Sherlock? I have other things to do than deal with my baby brother, contrary to what you may believe." Mycroft said.

Ignoring his brothers later statement, Sherlock mused, "They are all dealt with. Be a dear and send in your clean up dogs or whatever you wish to call them. I'm going back to Baker Street."

"Ah, but you should be careful little brother. John isn't the same man. I'm afraid to say that he seems to have gone as cold as you were. Nearly worse." He said with his know-it-all tone.

"I thought I told you to watch after him. It shouldn't been all that hard for you!" Sherlock shouted.

"No need to be so dramatic. I was merely giving you a fair warning." Without a goodbye, Mycroft hung up on Sherlock.

The cabbie chuckled, "Rough times, eh? Things are only bound to get worse for you."

"Says the man who's getting a divorce, loosing custody of his children, and has a drinking issue." Sherlock muttered, apparently a bit to loudly.

"Blimey, you are as good as they say Mr. Holmes."

"Everyone thinks I'm a fake. And how do you know who I am?" Sherlock inquired, keeping a calm, bored façade.

"Always so modest." The cabbie took a sharp turn, which Sherlock noticed was going the wrong way.

"Tell me what I want to know." He growled, a fire lighting in his eyes.

"How about I don't tell you anything, and you be a good little bugger and just take a nap." With this the cabbie put on a gas mask and set off a gas, knocking out Sherlock. The last thing Sherlock thought before blacking out was, Just wait a while more John.

John's P.O.V

The cold wind bit at any bit of John's exposed flesh, but he didn't care. He could hardly even notice. The army doctor's only focus was to get to the cemetery.

"Hello again." Greeted the flower girl. "Yellow again, am I correct?"

He knew her intentions were friendly, but John found her joy annoying. John merely nodded his head, and muttered, "A red too, please."

"Ah good, a nice change up. 'Ere you go, one red, one yellow. No charge, I'm going away soon anyways." The girl gave him the two roses and John politely thanked her. He limped over to Sherlock's grave and gently lay the two roses.

"Yellow for friendship, red for love. It has taken me forever to realise the obvious. I...Sherlock I- I love you Sherlock. You are the only thing I can love, and you're dead." John groaned. "You were right. Caring is no help. All it does is hurt you further." John said bitterly. "Of course you were right Sherlock. Of course you were."

With that John left abruptly, going straight back to his flat, ignoring the stares from the people around him. They all wondered about the army doctor. People wondered what he did, all locked up inside, rarely coming out.

Truth is, he wasn't the same man anymore. No, John wasn't cruel, but he was cold, indifferent even. He only cared about a dead man.

Sarah's P.O.V.

3 months of the constant drilling . 3 months of the blasted training. Though, she was a fast learner so she got through it rather fast.

Sarah was ready, ready to kill the man who stole John Watson from her. Ready to kill the dark haired man who caused all of her heart break.

So when her 'boss' told her she was to go eliminate Sherlock Holmes, lets just say she was more than pleased. The twisted woman could already see the look of life slowly draining from his cool green eyes.

"Hurt him in every way you can," The Shadow Man grinned, "But leave him alive, just barely. I must speak to him before he dies."

"Yes, sir." Sarah said clearly, for he had a temper so it was rather annoying to him when someone was disrespectful or mumbling. With that she turned on her heel and strutted confidently to the chambers where Sherlock was being held. A dagger suddenly clanked to the floor by her feet.

"That may come in handy." Her boss smirked.

"Yes, sir." She picked it up and walked down the damp stairway to the dungeon like rooms below.

Sucking in a deep breath, she placed her worn hand on the rough door knob. With a creaking push Sarah entered to room.

She saw the pale skinned man tied to a splintering wooden chair, awake and not at all shocked to see Sarah, merely interested. He had a bloodstained dirty gag shoved down his throat, and his slender hands knotted together securely behind the back of the chair.

"Hello Sherlock. Lovely to see you here. How is John doing?" Sarah snickered, looking amused at the flash of worry rush through Sherlock's normally confident eyes.

"Ah yes, he's doing terrible. Can't stand a single day without you, Sherlock. I tried to help him, but I guess you turned him into an emotionless freak. Broke my heart, he did. Know you get to pay." Sarah sneered as she loosely dragged the sharp blade across his cheek, watching the bright warm blood trickle down his white face.

Sherlock didn't show any signs of pain as she created a line of red across the left side of his face. He starred at her, carefully deducing her next moves, intentions, and what she had done since he last saw he last saw her.

Sarah had forgotten about his abilities, blinded by her anger and heart break. She then sliced open his shirt and plunged the dagger a quarter into his side, slowly twisting its sharp edges.

The detective winced, clenching his jaw slightly. "Oh honey, we are not even beginning yet." She laughed, thinking of all the pain she would deliver to him.
"You should have just jumped for real."

The torture continued for weeks, until eventually Sherlock was on the border line of death. Sarah had his clothing in bloodied shreds, and his skin was clad in caked dried blood and painful wounds that Sarah kept re-opening.

His hair was no longer the bouncy brown curls he once had. It was now blooded down and sticking out in every which way. Yet Sarah wanted him to scream, but Sherlock never would. Sherlock never would.