An Awkward Situation....(a Sherlock story)

The amazing karate skills of John watson

"John...John! Wake up, mate."

John growled as he suddenly became aware of his sore back and neck. He'd fallen asleep on the concrete, which not surprisingly didn't offer much comfort, and had fallen away into his dreams. He'd had a strange dream involving Ms. Hudson, Sherlock, Lestrade and a cow, but it had been a nice distraction.

Now, as Ludovic poked his ear like a five year old might do to their older sibling, John slowly rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. How long had he been out for? Trickles of morning light seeped into his vision, so it must've been a while. But there weren't any windows in the cell, why was he seeing light? Was he dead? 

"Either get him up or he'll stay behind." A dark voice drawled, sending John jumping to his feet. Morning sleepiness clouded his vision, his legs were shaky and his body aching, but slowly the blond man who'd they'd met came into his vision. He wore a new suit, blood red, which stood in intense contrast to his paper white skin and pale hair. His thin lips were pulled in a strained smile, his eyes shadowed and hollow. Why did he have to look like a vampire? Surely he could change into something more normal, a sweater at least.

Ludovic hurriedly prodded John forward, "Come on, I think they're going to dissect us."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because they said, maybe we should dissect them." Ludovic whispered, shriveling back as one of the guards grinned a crooked smile at him.

"I wasn't planning on dissecting you two, but it may be interesting, who knows...maybe it's on your bucket list?" The man laughed, like it was completely normal discussing murder in a joking way.

John clenched his fists, "You know, I can honestly say being dissected is not on my bucket list." he muttered as he was pushed into the hallway.

The hallway was as dreary as he remembered, thin corridors with stark, modern lights above them. Sleekly polished granite floors-which would have been delightful to slide across-were basically mirrors. Everything about it was flawless. But there was also something dreadfully wrong with the place. There were bars instead of blinds, the sound of screaming, each of the scientists that shuffled past them each wore a dark, corrupt expressions.

"Where's Sherlock?" John asked as they passed a rather sinister looking scientist with a mustache so bushy, there were pencils sticking out of it.

The man laughed, "You know, he was asking the same thing about you a few hours ago. Not any more, of course."

"If you've hurt him, I swear I will-"

"Oh relax," He interrupted, "you're a doctor, no? Well, an army doctor. Think of it like this, you wouldn't eliminate a soldier from medical help if he was the kings son, would you? No, you would make him your top priority, work on him day in and out until he regained health. Just like how I won't harm your little friend, it's like throwing away a piece of gold."

"I like gold..." Ludovic muttered, "he's not in your office, is he Jamen?"

Jamen laughed hoarsely, "You really do take me as a fool, Ludo. I'm not going to be like those Disney villains who reveal their plans and life stories just because they have the upper hand. Mystery is much more fun. It plays with the mind." (Yes my main villain is a fan of Disney, he may be evil, but that doesn't mean he's completely inhuman. He also enjoys long morning walks along the coast...in case you were wondering...)

John didn't answer, because it was true. His mind was a torturous chain of images of Sherlock being whipped, stabbed, being thrown off a building. He didn't know why they'd throw Sherlock off of a building, but thoughts like that tended to come to mind when Sherlock was in danger.

After arriving at the end of the hallway, they walked into a large open area. A small library connected to a spiraling staircase, which led to a large area covered in desks and computers. It looked like a small business had crammed themselves in a luxurious mansion.

"What are you going to do to us?" John asked, clutching his sweater nervously.

Jamen's thin eyes narrowed, so they were merely slits on his long face, "If you'd really like to know, I think I'm going to kill you. I thought I'd need you, but as it turns out Sherlock's mind is not as strong as he lets on. I could let you go, but then you'd tell all your little proper British friends and you know how bad that would be for my...reputation."

"Bro," Ludovic breathed, "you are British."

"As I was saying," Jamen continued, giving Ludovic a questioning glance before facing his mob of guards, "Take them to the room."

John protested, but was cut off guard as he was hit forcefully with one of the guards padded elbows and began to be pushed forward. What was he going to do? He couldn't die here, not when Sherlock needed him. If he could stall until Mycroft came...

"Nancy!" Ludovic called suddenly, waving frantically to a red headed woman as he was prodded across the room, "Nancy! Hi! How's the pet chinchilla?"

Nancy, who looked like she'd never been spoken to by another human being before squinted her eyes, "Erm...Ludo, why are there guards taking you away? You didn't explode something again, did you?"

"No, I simply shared information, I'm being killed right now, actually." Ludovic explained casually, this time John gave him the questionable stare.

"Oh. How unfortunate. Well, have a lovely whatever you have left of your life day, and please don't talk to me again." Nancy called, rolling her eyes.

Ludovic smiled as they were marched across to a hallway, "Lovely lady."

"I hate you..." John muttered.

As the sound of the chattering workers was silenced by the long narrow hallway they entered, John acted. He turned around and kicked away the man behind him with all the force he could. Already, another man was reaching out for him, but he ducked under the mans grasp and grabbed his arm, twisting it backwards until he heard a regrettably satisfying pop as his arm broke.

The remaining guards charged, and as Ludovic stood and watched stupidly, his hands at his side, John took each of them down, one by one. One man got a good punch at John's left eye, another got a good cut on his arm, but besides that, he received few fatalities.

Once he had brought the last man down, he turned around, breathing heavily as he faced Ludovic.

"You are terrifying," Ludovic chattered, "You know, I've always liked you. I knew from the moment I saw you that you weren't just some old flatmate Sherlock shared his flat with."

"I'm sorry, how old do you think I am?" John asked as he retrieved one of the guns the guards had.

Ludovic shrugged, "Dunno...fifty six?"

"We need to get out of here before I kill you."