Liar, Liar

The Cell

John was shivering.

It was a freezing cold car ride, but John was too terrified and hurt to complain. So he just sat there with a blindfold over his eyes, a rope around his wrists, and a gag in his mouth (another reason he didn't complain). Sherlock, who- from the sounds of it- was to Johns left, spoke to the unknown driver.

"Take this exit, if you would" John felt the car turn sharply and his stomach ached from all of this turning directly after his tea. "Thank you, dear brother"

Mycroft then. What on Earth was going on?!

John gasped as Mycroft suddenly braked and Sherlock caught John's head from swinging to far, saving him from whiplash.*

No wonder Anthea always drove.

"We're almost there," John could feel Sherlock warm breath against his ear and wasn't sure whether to move away uncomfortably or scoot closer for warmth. He decided to do neither, seeing as Sherlock had been rather... unpredictable lately.

~~~~~

John wasn't sure where they were but they were out of the car. The air was hot and very moist. The soldier was pushed onto some sort of wall and held there as his blindfold was removed by a man he had never seen before.

"Sherlock?" His mouth was covered by the same man as he was told to hush. He obeyed.

John was walked down a long hallway in what seemed to be some sort of prison.  

Once inside his cell, the rope was removed and Sherlock sat outside the bars peering as if John was his specimen.

Maybe John was his specimen.

Sherlock took a breath as if he were about to speak, but closed his mouth again, stood up, and left quietly.

"No," John croaked. He tried harder to raise his voice before he began again. "Sherlock!" There was no reply. So John was alone in a cell located who knows were for who knows what. It was quite a terrifying thought. But the soldier part of John told him it was okay for now. He could make it through this. At least he wasn't being interrogated.

Yet.

Well, John thought. if I'm gonna be stuck here I might as well look around.

Utilizing the skills taught to him by the one and only, John scanned the room throughly (or at least as through as John could get). The cell was mostly empty, save a bed and a toilet. On the bed there was nothing but a sheet and a shitty pillow that was sure to give him cramps. The floor was old, but clean. The toilet was clean as well. So his room had probably never been used before. Of course Sherlock would give a brand new cell. Knowing the living condition Sherlock had probably went through the past three years, he had most likely considered this luxurious.

John sighed and sat down on his bed, hoping to see someone he knew walk past the bars that separated him from the world.

*****

For now, Sherlock had no idea where to start explaining John situation to him. It was complicated to say the least.

But what John had did had been wrong and whether John knew it or not was irrelevant.

*dunno if that's possible, but I don't really care, lol