Together at Last

Threat

Sherlock hasnt moved for the past two days, he just lies on the couch. Mycroft and I have taken turns sleeping and staying up with him, though he dosent sleep. I cant get him to say anything, neither can Mycroft. We need to go back to work soon, Mycroft more so than me, but we dont want to leave Sherlock alone all day.

"He needs to get up soon, you know that."

Mycrofts voice snaps me out of my thoughts suddenly.

"I know."

"Has he moved at all?"

"Not to do more than hide."

"Damn it. He cant keep on like this, we need to get him up."

A crash from the sitting room catches our attention quickly, Sherlock is actualy up. I run in, Mycroft close behind, to see Sherlock sitting up on the couch. He has shattered another vase, threw his cell across the room again. I reach down to pull it from the mound of glass, cursing when I cut my finger on a shard. My cell buzzes, though I ignore it until I check Sherlocks. Moriarty is screwing with him, he has sent another picture of me. My cell is much of the same, a picture of Sherlock. They are both from when he had us drugged up and hidden, though the ones of Sherlock are becoming increasingly disturbing.

"What is it?"

I hand Mycroft both cells, the first time he has seen the pictures. He inhales sharply when he sees Sherlock, pain flashing across his features. Another picture comes in suddenly, Mycroft almost drops the cell. I take it back from him, wincing when I see what it is. The picture is Sherlock lying on the ground, half naked and bloodied up. He gets up when I fall back onto the couch, shakily taking the cell from me.

"FUCK YOU!"

Sherlock is going crazy again, screaming at the cell. He grabs something off the table and shatters it against the wall, still screaming. I manage wrestle him back down to the couch before he can smash anything else, pinning him under me. Mycroft jumps towards us, helping me keep Sherlock against the couch.

"GET OFF OF ME!"

We dont let him go, instead tightening our hands around his limbs. Tears are steaming down his face now, still screaming at us.

"Do you have him?"

"What?"

"He needs to calm down, we still have his sedatives in the kitchen."

Mycroft nods and I let go, running into the kitchen to find what we need. When I come back, Mycroft is struggling to hold him down. We switch places and I sit on top of his legs, trying to keep him still enough for Mycroft to make the injection.

"You need to pin his arms better John!"

"I'm trying to! Hurry up."

Mycroft presses his arm across Sherlocks chest, struggling to keep him still.

"GET OFF OF ME! I DONT WANT IT!"

"Sherlock, you need to calm down. Please."

He doesn't respond to me, instead continuing to try and throw us off of him. Mycroft pins his head against the couch finally, setting off another round of screaming.

"LET GO MYCROFT!"

I feel him struggle harder against us as Mycroft manages to inject him. It takes another ten minutes for him to relax, and another five for Mycroft to let him go. Mycroft pulls me off of Sherlock, making me sit back against the couch. Sherlock ignores us for the rest of the time before Mycroft sends me to bed. He carries Sherlock in about an hour later, lying him in my arms when I reach out. Sherlock is passed out, unmoving. He wakes me up when he opens a window, sitting on the ledge.

"Sherlock? What are you doing?"

He doesn't respond, instead turning away from me. I jump up and pull him off of the ledge, yelling for Mycroft.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. He just opened the window and sat on the ledge."

Mycroft takes Sherlock from me, lying him back in the bed.

"Lock the windows, dont let him open them again."

I turn back to the window, shutting it and turning the latch. Sherlock lets Mycroft hold him against the bed, still silently crying. I come back over, surprised when he lies against me suddenly. He is starting to hyperventalate again, struggling to keep himself calm. Mycrofts cell buzzes and he checks it quickly, immediately standing and cursing.

"What is it?"

He tosses the cell to me, his hands are shaking badly. I look down and instantly wish I hadn't. This is the worst picture Moriarty has sent us so far, one of Sherlock. He is clearly high, eyes bloodshot and a layer of sweat glistening on his pale skin. I realize in horror what I am looking at. Sherlock is lying on the ground, all but his underwear missing. His eyes are terror filled and he is bound at the wrists, long cuts running across his body. The cell buzzes again and a new picture pops up. Mycroft yells when he sees it, looking over my shoulder, and walks out of the room.

Enjoying the story?- JM

Fuck you! Leave us alone.- JW

But you are enjoying it, otherwise you wouldnt be waiting for new ones.- JM

He sends a video this time, camera propped up on a stand. I watch, unable to tear my eyes away as he drags a knife through Sherlocks chest. Sherlock slams his head into the ground a few times, being stopped by Moriartys hand against his head.

"Dont do that, you need to be awake."

I continue watching, though I don't want to. Moriarty kisses Sherlock along his neck, starting at his ear and continuing down to his stomach. He is whimpering, a sound that twists my heart in the worst way. This is everything he has never told me, why Moriarty scares him so badly. I start crying when Sherlock does in the video, a sharp pain running through my body. Sherlock slams his head on the ground again, finally knocking himself out. The video cuts out after Moriarty curses, humming as he switches off the camera. I dont get anything else from him tonight, apparently this was enough.

"Mycroft?"

He comes back into the room, eyes red-rimmed.

"What was it?"

"A video."

"Damn it."

Sherlock is sleeping, still pressed against me. Mycroft takes his cell back, still struggling not to cry.

"Hold him close tonight. Please."

"I will."

He leans down and hugs both of us, kissing Sherlocks forehead before leaving. The door shuts quietly behind him, drowning the room in darkness again.