Little Consulting Detective

1

Sherlock opened his eyes for the first time in hours. Something was wrong, right off the bat... but what?

Sherlock sniffed the air and smelled... talcum powder? How odd. He looked up at the ceiling and    was greeted by a pale blue hue. That wasn't right, not at all.

Sherlock tried to sit up to better observe but was unable to move, no matter how hard he tried. He nearly strained to move, but it was no use.

"John? John, what's going on?" Sherlock called, hoping that wherever he was, John might be there with a suitable explanation. The door creaked and footsteps approached Sherlock. He was able to turn his head just a bit to catch a glimpse of the legs nearing him. It wasn't John.

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm not John, Sherlock. Don't worry, daddy's here." Moriarty said soothingly, reaching his hand down to stroke sherlock's hair. The detective jerked his head away and turned his gaze up at his arch foe.

"What have you done to me? Where am I?" He questioned. Moriarty smiled down at him.

"Don't you worry about that. All you need to know is that you're going to be well taken care of." The criminal said. Sherlock's eyebrows drooped. What did Moriarty mean?

Moriarty reached down onto the mattress where Sherlock lay and picked up a small plastic object. 

"Did you drop your soother?" He cooed, sticking his bottom lip out dramatically. Sherlock's brows furrowed deeply as he wondered what the other meant. A second later, the detective found a vaguely familiar object in his mouth. It was a dummy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sherlock grumbled through the soother, sounding ridiculous, looking even more so. Moriarty smirked.

"Can't you see, Sherlock? You're no longer going to need to solve any nasty crimes or worry about anything ever again. From now on, you're my baby, and I'm your daddy. Everything that you need will be taken care of by yours truly. You'll see, it won't be so bad. Who knows, you might even like it." Moriarty said. He reached down and hoisted Sherlock with little effort. Bloody hell? How was that possible?

Sherlock looked around the room as much as his limited range of motion allowed. It was a nursery, everything fitted to sherlocks size. There was a small bookshelf, a colorful toy chest, a rocking chair... Moriarty turned to leave the room and that's when Sherlock saw it. A moment before, he'd been lying in a crib. A damn crib.

"Alright little one, let's say we get you some breakfast. The drug in your system is powerful, so it may not be time for solid food just yet. Fear not, we have plenty of formula in the meantime." Moriarty said in a chipper voice, just how one would talk to an actual infant. He carried the detective downstairs to a lovely decorated kitchen, with black cabinets and dark green tiles.

Sherlock looked around and tried to map out possible escape routes for when he could move again, but heard moriarty chuckle.

"Oh Sherlock, you amuse me so. I already told you, you won't be leaving. Where we are is so tucked away that no one will ever find you. Eventually, nobody will even bother, and by that point, you'll be a mindless little baby who's too afraid to leave his daddy's side, even for a little while." Moriarty crooned. Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. He's outwitted moriarty before, he's easily be able to do it again.

Moriarty prepared a bottle of formula and heated it up. When it was warm, it was back upstairs to the nursery. Moriarty sat in the rocking chair and cradled Sherlock in his arms. He removed the soother from the detectives mouth and set it on the shelf for the time. 

Sherlock thought about the flat and his friends. Friends. Sherlock grinned at the thought. Never in a million years would he have thought he would ever have any of those, but he did. He had a few wonderful friends, and he was grateful for them. Suddenly, sherlocks eyes filled with tears at the thought of never being able to see them again. He let out a cry and broke down, reduced to tears. 

Moriarty shifted Sherlock and held him against his shoulder, rubbing his back and shushing him softly.

"Shh. There there Sherlock, it's alright. Daddy's here, and he will always be here." Moriarty cooed, his low voice and the vibrations of his chest comforting Sherlock. When he stopped crying, moriarty brought him back to his original position, cradled in his arms. 

Sherlock was astonished with himself. How had he, a grown man who did not have the strongest grasp of ordinary peoples emotions, just have an outburst like that? And what's more, how could he let his arch foe soothe him? He scolded himself mentally, but was sidetracked when he felt the bottle's nip in his mouth. He looked up at moriarty questioningly.

"It's alright. Drink up, Sherlock. It'll help you feel better." Moriarty encouraged. Sherlock weighed the consequences of complying in his head. Unable to find too poor of an outcome, Sherlock drank the warm milk, feeling better with each sip. He slowly began to melt into unconsciousness as moriarty rocked gently back and forth, humming a sweet tune.

"N-no." Sherlock uttered around the bottle. He couldn't give in like this. He needed to get out of here. Moriarty simply shushed him again, continuing to rock. Sherlock felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier, until he couldn't stay up any longer.

Moriarty smiled and removed the half drunk bottle from the baby's mouth, setting it on the shelf. He grabbed the dummy and placed it where the bottle had just been. Sherlock sucked rhythmically on the soother as moriarty stood and walked back to the crib, placing a soft kiss on the detectives temple before setting Sherlock down on his back. He turned on the mobile and baby monitor and looked at his little one once more.

"Sweet dreams." He whispered, exiting the nursery and turning off the light, closing and locking the door behind him.