John Watson the slave, Sherlock Holmes the master.

Chapter 11

"I love you too John," He said quietly and I knew it was the truth. This was so out of character for Sherlock that I actually laughed. After a few seconds I calmed down and listened out for Sherlock's witty remark but none came. I positioned myself on my back and removed the blindfold. I was so tired I could fall asleep but I needed to see him. With a great effort I sat up and looked around.

The bed was a mess. It was covered in a bit of blood and semen but I didn't care. I smiled a genuine smile for the first time, remembering what just happened, and turned to face Sherlock.

What I saw drained the blood from my face and I was filled with fright. As long as I will live I will never get this horror out of my head.

Sherlock hadn't said anything more because he physically couldn't. His head was thrown back in a silent scream, his back was arched off the bed, and his eyes were tightly closed. He was in agony. It was then I noticed new blood on the bed; new, fresh, blood spreading slowly from where his hands were. His fists were closed so tightly that his nails were cutting into his skin. Suddenly, whatever weariness I had vanished only to be filled with concern and fear. Jumping off the bed I ran around to Sherlock's side so I could reach and examine him better. 

"Sherlock, can you hear me? SHERLOCK!" I said half in panic. He didn't reply, I didn't think he would but from what I could see there was nothing wrong with him, physically anyway. Despite that, I did a thorough check to make sure but I was fairly certain. It was only then I noticed a faint trickle of blood coming out of his ear. There were a number of things this could mean but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving up I left Sherlock's side to find a phone, I had to get help. I had only just reached the door when I heard something change. I turned to look and was relieved to see Sherlock was no longer silently screaming. In fact, it looked as if he was sleeping. Filled with a whole different panic I ran back to Sherlock to check, he couldn't be...

"John," He whispered quietly. I wouldn't have heard it if I was still by the door. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked concerned.

"What a ridiculous question, what do you think?" Sherlock said in his usual I'm smarter than you voice but it was quiet and strained. He didn't elaborate any further but I could guess.

"Do you have any idea what that was?" I asked because I had no clue.

"I have a theory but I not sure yet. Don't call for the doctors, that's an order. Just..." He said but he seemed too tired to continue. I knew what he wanted though. I walked over to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Sherlock. I wanted to call the doctors, I had to call for help, but I couldn't, so I laid next to Sherlock and waited until he was asleep to help him myself. It didn't take long. After a few minutes his breathing became even, I slowly moved off the bed to the bathroom to get supplies and walked quietly back to Sherlock. I wanted to wait a bit before I did anything; I didn't want to wake him. I set the things that were needed on the floor and, as soon as I thought I could do it without waking Sherlock, I started bandaging up his hands. He stirred a few times but other than that remained asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief when I was finished I sat on the floor next to the bed and watched Sherlock. The night dragged on but soon it was morning and I could see Sherlock starting to wake up.

"Sherlock?" I asked tentatively. I still didn't know what happened but I needed to know he was okay.

"Mghhh!" He moaned annoyed but opened his eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed next to me," Sherlock said sounding almost back to his normal self.

"How are you feeling?" I asked ignoring his question completely.