DISCLAIMER: I still don't own this!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Had a bit of writer's block but I'm over it now! Hope you enjoy the chapter! WARNINGS: RAPE, TORTURE, ANGST, ec. Honestly if my past chapters are anything to go by, you know what to expect!
Chapter Five: Losing Hope and a Rescue
In the Greek myth of Pandora and her jar, Pandora is said to have released everything from her little jar, everything, that is, except Hope. It was said that as long as a person still had hope, all was not lost. All you need is a little hope and you can make it through even the most difficult of situations. However, once hope was lost, you have nothing. No light to guide you in the dark. And you lose the will to fight; to live.
John didn't know how much more he could take before he completely cracked. Since the original rape, three days ago, Seb had taken his pleasure from John's body at least once every day, sometimes twice. The sadistic man made sure that John was thoroughly humiliated each time. The last time he had taken the doctor on his hands and knees, while forcing the man to look at his best friend the entire session. And if that wasn't enough, he had to tell Sherlock that he enjoyed every second of it, because he was a whore. Immediately after the session, the window to Sherlock's room closed, meaning he wasn't even allowed to speak to his detective.
After every encounter with Seb, John wept. He wished desperately that he was strong enough not to, but he couldn't hold back the broken sobs that wracked his body every time. He felt weak, pathetic, worthless. He was a soldier. How could he let Moran use him this way? He should be able to fight back. I am such a coward. He couldn't even defend himself, and he hated it. He hated Moran, but he hated himself more.
"Hello!" Seb sang out as he strutted into the room, wearing that horrid robe. "How are we today, love?"
John shivered in disgust, but said nothing.
"Aw! Don't want to chat?" Seb mocked in his sickening sweet voice. "Alright then, we'll get straight to business!" He snatched John up by his hair and tossed him onto his belly. And then, like a cat, Seb stretched out along the contours of John's back side, grinding his hips into the naked doctor beneath him. "I'm going to mark you as mine today," Moran hissed in his ear.
Just then, Sherlock's window was revealed and Sherlock, who was sitting against a wall, sprang to his feet and rushed to the glass. A panicked, worried expression passed over the sleuth's face as he gazed at his helpless friend and cursed Mycroft for the umpth time. John looked at his friend desperately for a moment before his head was wrenched back toward his captor.
"Okay, Johnny," Seb growled. "Time for some pain."
A sharp knife was suddenly piercing into the doctor's upper back, carving. John let out a yelp of surprised pain. He gritted his teeth as he felt blood beginning to ooze out of the cuts and slide down his shoulders to the mattress beneath him. On and on it went. John gave up his silence for screams as the blade dug into his flesh. Finally, when the ex-soldier thought he might actually die from the pain, Seb stopped.
"Mmm," he purred. "Delicious. Would you like to see what I've marked you as?" Seb brought John's weakened body toward the glass of Sherlock's window and procured a hand mirror from the pocket of his robe. He angled the looking glass toward John's abused shoulders. In the reflection of the glass, John saw the despicable word that was carved in his flesh in angry red letters. That one word made him choke on a sob of ultimate humiliation. He was to be branded henceforth with this word. Bile rose in his throat and he dry heaved at the ugly sight before him. That horridly ugly word.
He looked away and Seb laughed at him. "You can't deny that's what you are, Dr. Watson. At least to me. You are nothing but a dirty little whore. A toy. A play thing. Nothing else! Just a worthless, pathetic whore."
A bang on the glass turned John's attention toward Sherlock. The man looked murderous. His eyes alone said, quite plainly, "If I ever get out of here I will take great pleasure in ripping you to shreds!"
"Let's have some fun," Moran muttered seductively in John's ear, before slamming body against the window, face pressed violently against the only thing keeping him from Sherlock's horrified gaze. "Mmm… I like having you on display."
With that, Sebastian spread the doctor's legs and fucked him roughly into the glass. And again John Watson yelled, screamed, begged, and eventually wept. His mind was slipping from him. His bleeding back was stinging painfully, but it was numbed by the excruciating pain of the hard cock that was violently shoving into him. Tears streamed down his face as he clawed desperately at the glass. With nothing to brace himself on, he was losing hope, fast. Franticly seeking some sort of anchor, he looked up at his flat mate.
Sherlock had tears leaking from his eyes as well. "I will get us out of this! I promise!" the detective mouthed. He had told John this before, in their after torture meetings. The last thing he saw before giving into the darkness and passing out from the pain, was Sherlock mouthing, "I'm sorry."
Sherlock watched as his doctor lost consciousness. Moran continued to pound into him mercilessly, regardless. Seb had kept his eyes trained on Sherlock the entire time, something the detective had not failed to notice. The sick bastard got off on the fact that he was doing all of this in front of the detective. Finally, Sebastian climaxed and pulled out of John, dropping the man in a heap on the floor.
"You shouldn't lie to him like that, Sherlock," Seb said, wiping himself off on his robe. "You aren't going to be able to save him, and to tell him otherwise is just giving him false hope."
Sherlock merely glared as the window John's room began to close. In frustration, he reared back and punched the glass before it disappeared behind it sheath. He howled in both rage and pain as his hand throbbed.
H e began to pace. It was something he did fairly regularly in the god forsaken cell. He couldn't get the horrible sight of that terrible word carved in his friend's back or the look of lost hope in his doctor's eyes as Seb had fucked him against the window. He paced for hours thinking up ways to escape. John didn't have much time before he gave up on fighting completely. He was reaching his limit, and Sherlock could see it. He paced until he couldn't pace any longer. He sat down, heavily, against the wall and tried to think. But his mind had gone numb and it wasn't long before he started to doze.
Sherlock jerked out of his comatose state and jumped to his feet. Gunshots. He stayed quiet and still for a moment, simply listening. Suddenly, the door to his cell was kicked in and in came Detective Inspector Lestraude.
"Sherlock!" the man cried. "Thank God! Are you alright?"
"Where's John?" Sherlock demanded. It was all he could think to say.
"John? John Watson?"Lestraude asked, confused. "Well, I don't really know, Sherlock. Home I expect…"
"No," Sherlock muttered, rushing passed the DI.
"Sherlock!" Lestraude called after him, before following.
Sherlock came to the door next to his. John's door. It was locked. He set about breaking it down. He slammed his body into the door, adrenaline dictating his actions. He vaguely heard Lestraude calling his name as he slammed into the door again and again, until finally he broke through. There on a soiled mattress lay his John; his battered, abused, used, and bleeding John. He rushed forward.
"Jesus Christ!" he heard Lestaude cry from the doorway. "It's John. Shit. Get the paramedics in here!"
But Sherlock only had eyes for the ex-army doctor. He took off his blazer jacket and wrapped it around the shivering figure as he gathered the man into his arms. It was not a very characteristic thing for him to do, he was aware, but at the present time he couldn't bear to not have John as close to him as possible, assuring that he was safe and alive.
"S-Sherlock?"John croaked, his eyelids fluttering open blearily.
"Sh…" Sherlock soothed. "It's okay. We're okay. It's over. I told you I'd get us out. I promised. I promised I'd get you out." He gripped the doctor tighter to him.
"You're r-real," John murmured.
"Yes," Sherlock confirmed. "I'm real. I'm here and you're safe. We're going home. It's over."
A/N: Well I hope you guys liked it! Next chapter will be the start of the healing… it will be full of angst and hurt/comfort! Until next time! R&E Please! :3