The Final Problems of Johnlock

The Worst Form of Torture

Heyo guys, sorry for not updating for almost a week, I've been busy and had some good ideas for oneshots. Thank you all so much for all of the support I've gotten on this, especially since this is my first story I started writing. Thanks again!

(John)

Finally, I woke up again. The world was black for some reason. Also, there was someone screaming in the distance. Wait... I know that voice. I'd know that voice anywhere. It was Sherlock. Where was I? How had I gotten here?

"Ahh, Johnny boy, you're awake! Good, this will be much more fun now." I could barely stop myself from reeling. I had known that this would happen eventually, but I'd figured that by the time it happened that at least I'd have been alone, not here listening to Sherlock's screams of agony. This was worse than anything I'd ever gone through, including Sherlock's "death", since at least then he hadn't suffered beforehand. Finally, the screaming stopped and I could only hope that he had passed out, rather than the alternative.

"Ok then, now we can chat." Jim said as I heard a chair scrape the hard floor. I tested the restraints to see what they were made of. Zipties. This would be painful, but worth it if I even got one swing at Moriarty for what he had done to Sherlock.Just as I was about to break the restraints, Jim interrupted me.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you Johnny boy, especially if you ever want to see lover boy alive again. Shame that you're with him, I was thinking about making you mine." His voice had taken on a lustful aspect, and I flinched away instinctively. Forcefully, the covering was removed from my face, and I opened my eyes to the starch white of a hospital. Scanning the halls, I realized that this was the hospital I had worked at before Sherlock had... jumped.

"What do you want Jim" I asked forcefully, hoping that if he was focused on me, Sherlock would be saved from his assistant's rage, at least for a while. I had to get him out of here, if it is the last thing I did.

"Well Johnny boy, I'm glad you asked. See, since we are in a hospital, I figured I'd get an experiment in. I want to see how long it takes for one of you to break. I'm betting you'll break first, seeing as Sherlock has dealt with worse physical abuse than this before, but I'm guessing you can't handle much more emotional trauma before your body just gives up. Then, I can have Sherlock all to myself as a prize of my achievements." His whole body shook with maniacal laughter. Mustering all the courage I had left, I spit in his face.

"You'll regret that John." He threatened, turning his back to me and speaking into a small device in his ear. "Hello love, I've finished talking, you can resume what you were doing before." He said all of this with such a low voice, I was surprised that he was even making any noise. Then, the screaming returned.

(Sherlock)

After waking up from my "nap" I was faced with a challenge. Seb was facing me, a signature smirk on his face as he listened to something in his earpiece. 

"Of course love. Are we still on for tonight though?" His inquisition turned my stomach as I tried, unsuccessfully to not imagine what he could be talking about. The grin from the response was enough to confirm my suspicions. I shuddered slightly, before he turned, and began hitting me again.

After a while of screaming, my voice became so hoarse I couldn't breathe properly, let alone hold a conversation with anyone. Of course, there was no person here that I wanted to talk to anyways. When Seb had finally left me alone for the night, I curled into a ball and cried until I couldn't cry anymore, the old terrors always in the back of my head. The door clicked, and I heard a very familiar voice whisper, "Sherlock?"

My heart stopped. I was so overjoyed that I didn't even remember by throat issue until it was too late. A small hiss escaped my lips, barely audible but John's sensitive ears must have heard it because he rushed into the room. 

"Oh my God Sherlock, we need to get you out of here immediately." John fussed over every scrape and cut on our way to the door before the lock clicked shut.

"Sorry boys, you can't be allowed to continue." Jim's voice played on the loud speaker. John looked exhausted, so I slowly lowered myself onto the floor, inviting him to sit with me as well. He got down, but instead of relaxing like I wanted him to do, he took off his shirt and began covering all of the cuts with it. I inhaled sharply when he removed his shirt because somehow, even as flatmates, I'd never seen him shirtless. His perfect skin was a pale color currently, and I could easily see where he had been shot. Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over that spot, causing John to shudder slightly.

When he was finally satisfied, he curled up next to me, and we fell asleep clutching each other for warmth and security.