"Fun little trick, isn't it?" Moriarty questions, keeping his hands behind his back.

"What did you do to me…?" he asks firmly but only comes out a hoarse whisper. Jim didn't answer, he just smiles, sitting in a metal chair not to far away.

"Figure it out Holmes." He challenges. Sherlock searched his mind, it didn't take very long, and the answer was obvious.

"Drugs." He says simply, his strength coming back to him. Moriarty's laugh was shrill and rang in Sherlock's ears. It was like an annoying alarm clock you wished you could just shut off.

"Correct! It was quite entertaining to dance around like my little puppet." He drawls. Anger builds up in the consulting detective, he hated being out smarted and used. His eyes dart around, surveying his surroundings, looking for an exit or a distraction. Anxiety builds up in Sherlock as he came up with nothing. He tries to get up but stumbles back down groggily as the world spun around him. Jim continues to laugh and taunt him, making Sherlock infuriated.

"What do you want from me?!" Sherlock nearly screamed at the man who looked taken aback by the harshness in Sherlock's tone, though he recovered quickly.

"Whatever do you mean Sherlock? I think I have won; once and for all the Mighty Sherlock is stuck with no way of escaping. You can't think your way out of this one." Moriarty leans forward with an evil grins planted on his pale lips. Sherlock says nothing but wasn't about to give in, wasn't about to give up.

"Sherlock?" A familiar voice calls from the shadows.

"John?!" Sherlock calls back and finally found the strength to stand.

"Don't move Sherly." Jim giggles as a big bulky man who held John's hands behind his back and held a gun to his head.

"What are you going to do Sherlock?" The maniac calls with a laugh to match.

"Better think fast." He adds as the thug grabs one of John's hands and grabs a finger and starts to bend it back.

"No! Leave him alone! What do you want!?" Sherlock demands, frantic.

"I want you to guess." Jim tells him and leans back contently.

"I can't! Tell me and I'll do it!" Sherlock yells. John lets out a scream as the thug broke his index finger.

"Oopsie! Better hurry Sherlock, poor John only has ten fingers." Moriarty cackles. Sherlock begins to panic, not coming up with anything.

"I-I'll give you all the money I have! I'll give you anything!"

"Wrooonngg!" Moriarty sings and the thug snaps another one of John's fingers. John yells in pain but was clearly trying to keep quiet.

"I-I'll-I'll be with you!" Sherlock tries.

"Tempting, but no." he frowns. Snap, goes another one of John's fingers. Before he could realize, Sherlock's eyes started to tear up and spill over.

"I'll stop solving!"

"Nope, no fun."

Snap.

"I um, I'll… Commit a crime!"

"Hm, no."

Snap.

"Oh no, looks like we have to go to the next hand!" Moriarty laughs. John was whimpering and begging in pain.

"I'll die!"

"We tried that." Moriarty frowns.

Snap.

"I'll work with you!"

"Hm, sounds nice." Moriarty smiles finally.

"I'll do it! Just let him free!" Sherlock begs.

"I can't see why not." Jim shrugs and motions for the thug to let John go. He runs over to Sherlock and Sherlock catches him in a tight embrace, being careful of his broken fingers.

"But wait, how will I know you'll stay true to me?" Jim asks, and points a gun at John's skull.

"I will! I swear!" Sherlock says, putting John behind him.

"That isn't enough. How about a deal?" He proposes.

"Anything."

"Have I said that I enjoy seeing you desperate? I didn't even know you had feeling, dear Holmes." Moriarty marvels.

"Just tell me the deal!" Sherlock says, calm and collectively, but very very angry.

"If you betray me, I kill both of you." He grins.

"Fine." Sherlock spits.

"Sherlock! No!" John speaks up.

"Be quiet John." Sherlock tells him

"It's a deal, you may go." Moriarty smiles and the thug opens the door, revealing the cool English night outside. Sherlock hold John up as they stumble to the door. Sherlock felt nothing but empty. He didn't think, he didn't think what he would have to do. All he could think was John, getting him safe and far away from all this madness. He knew he couldn't see John anymore, and then, the pain started to seep in. He never felt pain before, hurt. He kept his face straight and unreadable. Emotionless. Like always.

Suddenly, John busts out of his grip and swings around with a gun in his hand. Where in the world did he get that from? He shot it, hitting Moriarty in the head and the thug as well. A strange click echoed through the empty building.

"What did you do!" Sherlock yells and grabs John wrist and runs as fast as he could away from the building and down the street. A huge bang shook the floor of Bakers Street as the building they were just in not moments ago, blew to bits. It most likely killed some people but as long as John was safe. That was all that mattered at a moment. They eventually stop running and Sherlock turns to John.

"Are you Mental!" He demands at the doctor.

"I saved us didn't I?" he shrugs, out of breath.

"God you're an idiot…" he sighs and hugs John tightly.