Memories (Sherlock BBC Fanfic)

Chapter 3

John:

It had been sixteen days. Sixteen days of confusion and fear. Of not knowing what was going to happen. It had been HELL. Hot days, cold nights. Little food and water. Absolutely nothing to do but sit here waiting. Why was i here? Was i just a chess piece to lure Sherlock to his enemy? ... No. Sherlock would have found me in sixteen day. Surly the genus could find my trail after two bloody weeks, right? I have been plagued with these doubts since the third day of captivity. I was tearing myself apart with panic attacks. Little doubts of Sherlock giving up, or not knowing, or not even noticing my absence. Thoughts of dying in a place like this. It pained me to know i was helpless.

The door unlocked and was open only wide enough for Sebastian's hand to set the bottle of water and bread down. We made eye contact for a second and the door was closed. I stood up and retrieved the supplies. I set the water aside and separated the bread into several pieces as i sat against the wall. Just enough to last two days. Sebastian came every other day, and the supplies he provided, surly from Moriarty's orders, were only enough to last one day. I was constantly thirsty and my stomach was often pained with hunger. I received little sleep as well, thanks to my hunger. And the bags were heavy under my eyes.

As i ate the small amount of bread, the thoughts returned. I could hear my heartbeat rise as i began to have another panic attack. I leaned against the cold wall and tucked my knees under my chin. Rocking on the floor, I tried to convince myself that the walls weren't coming any closer and Sherlock would come. The attack lasted another fifteen minutes, and i felt no better afterward. The attacks were coming a frequent occurrence. I took a deep breath and diagnosed myself with claustrophobia and severe anxiety for the fifth time. Being in such a small place for so long was wearing on me. I hadn't left the cramped room since i talked to Jim. Well, listened to Jim.

Remembering the chat was the only thing i could think of for the first four days. I swore to myself that i wouldn't change anything if i met him again. There wasn't any way I was going to submit to a manic like him. But... what would happen if i didn't talk to him? He said something bad was going to happen. But what? Take away more food? He has me down to just about nothing anyway. Torture me? I could handle it, probably. He had nothing to take from me. Nothing.

The days dragged on as I sat in my cage. The hope of Sherlock seemed like a childish attempt to keep me sane. It was now day twenty five, and i woke up cold and stiff. I struggled to stand and stretched out my sore muscles. It wasn't too long after i had woke up when the door opened and Sebastian stared down at me. I slowly stood up with caution as Sebastian asked," Can you walk on your own, or do you need help? He would like to see you again."

I shook my head and followed him out the door. We walked down the long hallways again, and i struggled to understand the building. It really seemed like a hospital, but something was different. I couldn't explain it. I shifted my thoughts around as we neared the door. Sebastian knocked and entered and i followed him into the room.

He was sitting there. On the same white couch, drinking the same bloody tea. No, it was coffee this time. He looked up.

"Have a seat John."

I kept my eyes on the ground as i moved towards the opposite white couch. Sebastian stood behind me just in case.

"So, How are you? Are you having a nice time in your room? I know it doesn't have the best of views, but I'm sure you won't mind." Jim said as he took another sip.

I kept quiet. And the silence made Jim frown. He paused and gave me another chance to speak.

"John." He said while his cold eyes glared into mine,"I'm waiting for a response"